#but its so easy to draw him sexy

[jkaart]

Sexi plas ;)))

[ironmanstan]

you know that thing where like men will wear dresses or be feminine for a gimmick or as a trend etc which is all well and good but then theres people who can only handle seeing a man in a dress as a gimmick or as like a Thing where it's not casual or an everyday thing like they can only handle it when its specifically for a Bit bc they could never take a man just casually in a dress as anything casual, it'd be an affront to them for you to think a man in a dress can be anything but a gimmick so if you try to do it casually you're insane, and if you do it as a bit you are agreeing with them (youre not but they think you are). anyway this is how people are with genderfluid characters they can never just exist and casually be genderfluid they Have to be some sort of shapeshifting or weird over the top mystical being and it has to be a gimmick or it has to fit their persona or something for you to even consider them genderfluid because nobody could possibly casually be that without it being some sort of set piece for a punchline. how often do u see people even hc characters as genderfluid just cus. yknow.

[tteokdoroki]

tw ! slight age gap, reader is older, cheating, fingering, smut.

hello going on a business trip or to a conference, escaping your mundane life and the marriage that brings you nothing.

you’ve really gone on this trip to get away from your dead bedroom and the spouse that treats you like nothing more than a money maker.

which leads you to having a chance encounter with bakugou at the bar of the hotel your conference is at. you remember him from one of the panels — he’s young for this field of work but incredibly handsome, has brilliant red eyes that draw you in like magnetising poles, he makes you laugh and from your belly too. he’s everything your current spouse is not, there’s a spark inside you that you haven’t felt in years and bakugou knows it too. he makes you feel beautiful and seen and all he’s done is buy you a drink with a sour olive in it.

you find yourself stumbling behind him after one too many drinks, katsuki guiding you back to your hotel room — the good man that he is. you’ve both got panels to attend tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. it wouldn’t be wise to spend the rest of the night basking in booze and one another’s company. but when you get the door, failing to slip your key card into the slot — the blonde’s hand touches yours to help you get it in and all sense of logic is lost.

you no longer feel drained by mundane life waiting for you back home, you no longer think of your boring spouse in currently sleeping in your marital bed where they fail to make you feel loved. from the moment katsuki’s hand had touched yours, all you could feel was electricity, the longing and the wanting you’ve been desperately craving.

his lips drag sweep across your skin in heated motions and they find pleasure spots you’re not sure you even knew existed. bakugou’s fingers map out every inch of your body as though he may never touch you again, they dip past the forbidden band of your a-line skirt and write secret promises of pleasure against your clit because you’re married and the both of you know this is wrong.

one touch turns into another, dull and thick fingers stretch you open and graze your g-spot with an ease your spouse could never find. you e never felt this good, your lashes flutter against katsuki’s neck as he holds you to his chest and finger fucks you to the high heavens…because you’re just a hardworking woman who hasn’t had her pussy ruined in a long time, not like you deserve. he grins when you cream on just two of his fingers, such a good girl, so easy to please.

“such a pretty girl… such a hard worker ‘n no one to take care of you,” the blonde purrs into your ear before pushing you into the plush pillows and blankets below. there’s a gravel in his voice that raises at the heartbeat between your legs, not to mention the perfect view of him loosening his shirt and tie above you. “s’that why you’ve fallen into bed with the youngest guy here. ‘cause i got what it takes t’keep up with ya, yeah? make you feel better than that poor excuse of a fuck you got back home?”

bakugou grins slow and sexy when your hips rise from the bed on instinct at his words and he kisses you just to reward you, a poor touch starved little thing. its hungry and sloppy and messy and somewhere in the mix of his tongue wrapped around yours and your hands in his hair — the blonde has ripped through your stockings and slipped his aching, dripping slick cock past your quivering entrance.

he feels like home inside you, feels you up to the brim and sends your eyes rolling back into the depths of your skull. every stroke is calculated, every piston of katsuki’s meaty girth purposive and intentional — crafted to make you see stars with every jolt of your body up the bed. you can’t go back to regular old life after tonight, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were without picturing bakugou’s tie hanging loosely above you and hearing his deep moans echo throughout your mind.

that night you leave marks on one another that you’ll be hiding for weeks, smiling at when no one is looking, reminiscing the sinful experience shared in this very hotel room. there’s too much passion in the room for this to just remain a one time thing, too much emotion behind the act saliva swept lip lock or love bite left below the line of future clothes to be worn.

you know that you won’t give katsuki up especially when he kisses you as you cum together, thick white seeping between your swollen and ravaged folds.

you’ll do anything to be underneath bakugou like this again, even if it means planning fake business trips every other weekend to get away from your spouse and get fucked to the high heavens by your young hot colleague.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[poppy-metal]

ok so i feel like pat would be a pro at positioning his fleshlight between pillows so it’s perfect for him to hump into

he’d record himself desperately humping the fleshlight, while whimpering and moaning ur name (getting borderline subby….)

hissing and clawing at my enclosure.....

cause why does he fuck exactly how he fucks you - you never see it from the behind angle though, you can see everything. the flexing of his ass, the muscles in his thighs put to work as he fucks down into the silicone pussy. you're most mesmerized by the fat swing of his balls, though. you've had them in your mouth, caressed them with your tongue, you know how they feel thumping against you when you're fucked deep. but seeing them in motion, the way they bounce off the toy with everytime patrick bears down, like a swinging pendulum. makes your thighs clench as you touch yourself to the video. this doesn't even account for his moans - patricks never been shy about his pleasure. and it never fails to make you wet - fingers sliding into your cunt quick and easy as you imagine yourself in place of the toy. "fuck, i miss your pussy -" you hear him grunt through the video, he hunches lower and you see him burry his face in the comforter, losing himself completely in the pounding hes giving - you wonder if hes imagining its you, visualizing its your swollen walls milking his cock instead of the plastic pocket pussy. "wanna fuck you so bad, baby. know you want this - this fat fucking dick." and you do, you do, you're nodding along as you pump yourself steadily, nearly unable to keep your eyes open to watch the rest - but you have to see him cum, have to see his balls when they empty.

"fuck, fuck, fuck - m'gonna fucking nut - shit -" you're rubbing your clit furiously as you watch his hips stutter, his ass clenching as his balls draw up and fuck. its so hot. watching the way his sack pulses and twitches - and knowing that means hes filling the toy with his thick load. you wish you could taste it down your throat. feel it spilling into your cunt.

because hes a mind reader, or probably just because he knows you're just as much a freak as he is when he pulls out he zooms in on the lips of the toy as his head pops free, so you can see the thick globs of white that drip free. he always cums so fucking much its insane.

he spreads the lips of the toy lewdly to help the rest of his cum flood out - "shit." you breathe, pussy clenching like it knows what you're watching - wants to be fed that fluid. sticky hot and creamy and it belongs inside you. fuck fuck fuck.

he squeezes the end of the toy and you groan when a waterfall of his cum pours out in a loud squelch that shouldn't sound sexy but the lewdness of the sound is what makes it so hot, he lets it all pour over his slowly softening dick. rubs it all in as he strokes himself. "came so fucking much thinking about you. look at this shit -" he pumps his fist over his wet cock to show you how fucking messy he is. "need to cum again. its not enough." he grips his head as he starts to swell up again. "its never enough when its not the real thing. you make me so hard, baby. wanna be in you - filling you up with this load."

fucking.

you need to hurry home.

[hwangism143]

euphonia

synopsis in which hyunjin craves you and your voice and distance only made the heart grow fonder

pairing idol!hyunjin x gn!reader

genre fluff, comfort, established relationship

warnings mentions of food and eating, hyunjin is sickeningly in love with reader's voice

word count 2.2k words

requested by 🍓 anon (ily for requesting this mwah)

now playing all of the girls you loved before - taylor swift

a/n sexy voice syndrome is real!! (@calypsohan this one's for you max)

"i wanna teach you how forever feels"

Loneliness loved reminding you of its presence, looming over everything you did. It was like a relative you knew but rarely conversed with, one who sat silently in the corner of your apartment until it broke something made of glass before it left and left you reeling in it's wake.

And it's effect was profound, weighing down on you invisibly. It created ripples that bled into your everyday life until you were pulled under by it's current. Loneliness did that too you; but love always did one on loneliness.

To love was the most beautiful thing you had ever felt. You sometimes imagined life to be easier without love, without a heart that was breakable and a mind that was so easily manipulated. But when you stripped away all the physical aspects of you could define as you, the only intangible thing that you concretely had was the love you felt and the love you could give.

Sharing that same love with Hyunjin only made it more beautiful.

You fell in love in the winter. Back then, you didn't know who Hyunjin was. All you knew was that he would frequent the bookshop that you grew up loving whenever he came to your town, which was becoming often in the past few months.

He would run his fingers along the spines of the books and when one would catch his eye, he would hold it in the crook of his finger and slide it out. Hyunjin read for hours, sketched for what seemed to you like an eternity and only drank a standard Americano.

He felt familiar somehow, as if you had seen him somewhere but couldn't quite place it. But the black cotton mask that covered his face and the baseball cap that hung low only left his eyes visible to you. Even his eyes were beautiful though, glowing with wonder as his eyes darted around the room.

You used to work the counter back then. It wasn't because of a lack of funds, or even a job really. But this bookstore had been the place where you had taken your love, dismantled it into pieces and stored safely to put back together afterwards.

It was very fitting that you fell in love in that very bookstore, among falling snow and the smell of books.

When you finally mustered the courage to ask him his name and what he was reading, the first thing that left Hyunjin's lips were, "You have a pretty voice."

You blushed, biting your lip and drawing the tiniest drop of blood. "Pretty people recognize pretty things," you mustered at an attempt to flirt with him. You laughed off your poor attempt, flushed with embarrassment.

There was nobody in the bookstore except for him and you. He took of his mask and gave you a devastating smile. Suddenly, it all clicked. The billboards, the occasional YouTube recommendations and Instagram advertisements that adorned his face.

You had always found Hyunjin beautiful.

"I'm Hyunjin," he told you, and you noticed the his hands that were resting beside his body slightly trembling.

It couldn't have been easy, talking to a complete stranger considering the profession he was in. You recognized him, but didn't let on, although he had seen the glint of recognition in your eyes as clear as the glass windows of the bookshop in the summer.

"And I'm reading your face, since I recognize pretty things very easily," he laughed, and you thought it impossible to ever fall in love at first sight, but here you were, flying and falling all at once.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You always thought that Hyunjin had a thing for you voice. "I'm in love with your voice," he would tell you, between stolen nights and lazy mornings.

"What do you love most about me?" you asked him one Sunday while you both were in bed, his arms covered around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Your voice," he mumbled into your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to it while you mockingly as ked him why.

Hyunjin propped up his chin on the blade of your shoulder, looking up at you with the most pleading eyes. "Listening to you makes me feel like I'm sinking in a dream I never want to wake up from but also reminds me that all of this, us, is real."

You didn't know that complete extent of how much Hyunjin loved your voice.

When he finally left on tour and was separated from you, Hyunjin would call you every day. He would close his eyes while talking to you, trying to scorch every inflection your voice had, every dip and octave it reached into his memory.

Every laugh you let out, every I love you that you whispered to him resulted in a pitiful attempt of him trying to grasp the harmony of it in his hands, as if he had the power to turn it into something tangible.

To Hyunjin, your voice was the consequence of if the universe conspired to take every euphonic melody in the world and bestowed it upon one person.

Hyunjin didn't only love your voice. He loved every part of you, your bright eyes and wide smile, your sharp mind and rapid fire tongue ready with a response to anything. But your voice was just addictive, something that he was forever biased towards.

If Hyunjin could bottle up the sound of your voice and drink it every day, he would gladly drown himself in it during his every waking moment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You lunged for your phone when it rang, knocking over an empty glass of water sitting on your coffee table and throwing your blanket aside. Your bowl of macaroni and cheese lay forgotten, your hands in pursuit for the phone with it's customized ring tone that only belonged to one person.

Hyunjin hated the Baby Shark song. It only made sense to keep that as his ring tone.

Hyunjin was voice calling you instead of FaceTime, which could only mean one thing: he was travelling and the internet connection was spotty, or he had re-watched Pride and Prejudice (the Keira Knightly version of course) and was currently a sobbing mess. The unmistakable sound of the whizzing of cars told you that it was the former.

"Hello?" came Hyunjin's drawn out voice. You heard rustling in the background and the crumpling of what sounded like plastic.

"Hi Hyune," you giggled, "What's that I hear in the background?"

Hyunjin snorted and his voice was coated with distaste, "That, my love, is a plastic fart balloon that Jisung got me. But that isn't important. How are you?"

You rolled your eyes despite yourself and flopped down on your sofa. "Hyunjin, there are much more covert ways to ask me if I started watching Bridgerton without you. I'm not heartless, you know."

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh. "Hyunjin? I don't know Hyunjin. I only answer to love, baby, Hyune, Jinnie or other miscellaneous terms of endearment."

You let out a chuckle. You loved him so much that you felt like you would burst into a million tiny atoms, except those atoms would always be in constant searching for the pieces that made Hyunjin because those atoms were the only home they had ever known.

Talking to Hyunjin stretched on for hours. Somehow, only he understood what you were truly trying to say. It was as if your brains were hard wired to interpret what the other person was saying with the utmost ease.

It was poetic, how you could always translate Hyunjin's words into the emotions that he poured into them.

"I read a very beautiful book today. It was about love. Then again, everything I read is about love. The characters were very messed up, but that somehow drew me in. Oh, and do not get me started on the shit show that was them falling in love. At least they ended up together but-"

The line on the other end was silent. All you could hear were Hyunjin's soft puffs of breath. You felt guilt engulf you. Here you were again, going on and on without a care of whether or not Hyunjin had an input in the conversation.

"Why'd you stop?" came Hyunjin's voice.

"Because I'm rambling, aren't I?" you replied quietly.

"No, you aren't," said Hyunjin firmly, "I could listen to you all day."

Relief washed over you, although it was borderline pointless. Hyunjin's love kept you so safe and secure that there rarely ever came a time where you felt insecure about yourself or doubted your capability to do anything. If someone like Hyunjin could love someone like you, as self-depreciating as it sounds, you believed that anything was possible.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that love is in constant contradiction of itself."

Hyunjin was silent. You could practically feel him turn over the words in his head, the cogs inside his mind dissecting the inner meaning of the phrase.

"Love is contradictory. It's contradictory in it's every aspect," he finally said, "But it's that imperfection, that flawed baggage it comes with that makes beings as flawed as us experience it on a deeper and more visceral level."

"Maybe that's why they call it falling in love," Hyunjin told you thoughtfully, "It isn't supposed to be easy at all. Maybe the journey towards attaining it should be as rudimentary as us."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sleep was more than willing to pull you into it's grasp, whispers of the feeling crawling thorough your bones like wisps of phantoms past dragging you into an unbreakable state of stagnancy.

When another yawn slipped through your lips, Hyunjin finally made you hang up the phone. Despite your protests, he insisted on you going to bed.

To back up his argument, Hyunjin cited several reference of his sleep paralysis demon. You decided not to tell him that it was, in fact, Kkami dressed in a tutu and fairy wings.

That night as you slept, you dreamt of Hyunjin and love and how when you woke up, it would all be there waiting for you again.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your shrill doorbell. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you felt for your slippers and checked the time on your alarm clock. Which devil had decided that five in the morning on a Sunday was a good time to come knocking on your door?

You brushed you teeth with superhuman speed, having absolutely no intention to meet whoever it was with stinky breath. Lazily heading towards the front door of your quaint apartment, you bellowed an "I'm coming!" when the doorbell rang again.

You swung open the door, ready to curse at whoever was on the other side, just to find Hyunjin with a tired smile and bright eyes looking down at you.

"Hi. I've missed you so much," came his melodious voice. You blinked in wonder. This dream was very enjoyable and worryingly realistic.

You took a trembling hand and reached for his face, cupping his soft skin at the curve of his cheek with your palm. It all felt very, very real.

Oh.

Hyunjin closed the door behind him with his leg, inviting himself inside. His hands wrapped around your waist like a primal instinct and his forehead found it's place against yours. He slightly bumped his nose against yours.

With a teasing smile, he said, "This is all actually happening, by the way."

The tears started streaming down your face before you even knew what was happening. Hyunjin's expression morphed into one of concern and then affection. Your hand wrapped around the middle of his back and you buried your face into his chest.

Hyunjin still smelled like coffee and old books, like citrus shampoo and chocolate cake.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I missed you so much," you sobbed.

Hyunjin soothingly stroked your hair, nestling his own face into the crook of your neck. You felt tears that weren't your own seep into your shirt and Hyunjin sniffing beside you. Your boy was sweet as spring and as obvious as the autumn.

"Why are you crying?" you questioned.

Hyunjin pulled away to look at you, his eyes red and puffy like yours. You had never seen him in a more ethereal state, face full of emotion and eyes swirling with fondness.

"My love for you spills over me so greatly that I'm compelled to share in everything with you," he swooped down to kiss you, "And that includes everything sweet that you eat."

He pecked you again near the corner of your mouth.

You laughed. "Hwang Hyunjin, you're set on making me fall in love with you again, aren't you?"

Hyunjin's chuckle reverberated deep within your bones as he offered you a dazzling smile. You laid your head against his neck again while Hyunjin rested his chin on top of it. His warm breath fanned over your hair.

"I fall in love with you all over again when I even think of you, the anxiety and thrill of it flooding me everyday," Hyunjin murmured in confession against your hair, "But that's a small price to pay when I have the rest of forever to spend by you in return."

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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[katz-chow]

nsfw headcanons with the 141 + graves

warnings: nsfw 18+, gn!reader (amab & afab versions), past sexual trauma in ghost's part, bondage, edging, denial, teasing, dom & sub dynamics,

a/n: i really thought about this mostly because i don't like it when the fandom has like these takes that are i guess...expected from these men when they're literal soldiers...some are just takes that i deem unrealistic so here i'm trying to humanize them. hope y'all enjoy!

john price

6 in hard, cut, trimmed but is not really maintained as well as his beard, around med thick, a bit darker than his skin tone, curves up pretty straight i feel he's the type to like it really slow and gentle with you. like he takes his time, cigar in his mouth, and just his hand on you constantly. he loves to just relax after an action packed day, so having this as his peace of mind is something he'll really appreciate. he has the oldest, cheesiest playlist that he'll sometimes puts on whenever there'll be a day where he has a whole date planned. like this mf really thinks "rock your body" by justin timberlake something he can get down too. you make fun of him but he feels so good so it's ok. surprisingly has really good stamina for a 37 y/o dude. is very vanilla but he loves body worshipping. loves you like a divine being and to him you really are. he'll rather take you on the kitchen counter whenever you two are too impatient, maybe even on the bathroom vanity when you looks so cute after brushing your teeth that he just can't help it before he goes to work. would rather be on top of you, not really a dom & sub dynamic, just him taking over to make sure you're taken care of. a real good ol' fashion lover boy. after a long day at work and he just wants to relax, he'll just either ask you to blow him while he manspreads on the couch or he'll make you ride him on your bed. this man talks you through, never degrades you unless you ask for it. he'll prefers to baby you like the pillow princess you are...but he also expects the same when he's lazy he also loves it when you tug his hair when he goes down on you, grinding against his face or whatever. won't whine or whimper, but will pant like a dog in heat (he is) tits/chest kind of guy, loves to have his hands on your chest and squeeze them, so squishy! aftercare with him is like heaven because as soon as you two are finished, he immediately cleans you up and draws a bath for you both, or just you, to enjoy. good ol' fashion lover boy

simon "ghost" riley

6.5 in, uncut, doesn't really shave or trim, pink, warm undertones, i'd say pretty girthy, curves left so, so gentle with you. just like really soft with you, always making sure you're okay and that you're comfy the type to lay you down and just slowly press in, making sure your face is full of pleasure and not pain. because of his past experience, getting him to have sex in the first place took a long time, actually it was like year. so now that he's comfortable with you, he makes sure, for sure, that you're comfortable with him. consent is sexy. likes positions where he can sees your face, just to check up (and because he thinks you looks so angelic when you o) i feel like he wouldn't listen to any music while going at it, he doesn't want to be distracted from you. you love seeing his face too so its okay. incredibly hesitant and will not push your boundaries, also hard for him if you do end up doing something you haven't really talked about, even if it was accidental. his fav positions are anything that allows him to see your face and is easy for you to speak, that means no doggy, no pressing your face into the pillows etc etc. is not into bondage or tying you up, hates the fact that it feels like he's interrogating you and he hates the feeling of himself being tied up. always make sure you know what the safe word is, even if he's never going to push your boundaries or even go near it. once he finds a safe zone, he stays there unless you ask and he considers it (the safe word is pineapple) very vanilla and i feel like he wouldn't sub until there is a detailed talk beforehand and really, really trusts you. even then he still makes sure that you're in his view and you both know the safe word. once he does subs and lets you take full control, he's pretty vocal with you, talking to you, groaning and moaning, but he's still pretty quiet actually first time you introduced aftercare to him, he cried. he didn't know how loved he could feel while in the topic of sex, thought it was all hot and rough and not this soft. his favorite thing to do with you is to just wipe you both clean with a baby wipe from a packet you two keep in the nightstand. then he'll put on some clothes for you and him and just cuddle and kiss. he likes when you get him food afterwards when he subs someone please hug this man

kyle "gaz" garrick

7 in, cut, def trimmed, sometimes he'll even shave, darker than his skin tone, med thickness, doesn't curve but kinda rises straight up and hits his stomach, very cute he's 10000% down to do it any time whenever you two are at home. such a good balance between degradation and praise, only if you're okay with it. have you heard this man? he's a giggler, he'll giggle and tickle you and make funny jokes. one time, one of you farted (you two are still denying who it was to this day) and he couldn't stop laughing and mimicking the little toot sound i have a big feeling that he's into choking, but only you choking him. otherwise, he likes having his hand on your throat but not actually squeezing, just to keep you in place and for you to claw at speaking of your claws, he likes when you push him away and scratch at his forearms whenever he's overstimulating you. he just thinks it's so cute. definitely has a few playlists he shuffles through depending on the mood, one for a serious, hot and dirty mood and another for when you two are just chilling and being silly goofy, no kinky stuff. also into handcuffs, especially the fluffy ones. he thinks they just feel so soft and nice, a perfect balance between vanilla and kinky stuff. also because he feels like hes being pampered when he wears them attached to the headboard. lets out such cute and pretty moans no matter if he's domming or subbing. when he is subbing though, he lets out these really nice, low whines and pouts followed by a little giggle if it was silly your safeword is definitely something really funny and an inside joke that instantly ruins the mood (it's toots) he will actually ruin you if he's upset; def the type to have angry sex with you if two end up being really upset with each other. frustration sex? yes definitely. loves when you fuck him really rough, deny him, edge him, make him blabbering. he'll thank you afterwards too. if he's domming, he'll make sure you shower first and foremost, then orders take out and watch some stupid romcom. he loves romcoms (10 things i hate about you, will sing along with heath ledger) if he's subbing, depending on the intensity, he'll either just roll over after you wipe him down and immediately sleep as you pet his hair or he'll cling onto you and you two play minecraft together with him between your legs. 10/10 he's very adaptable

johnny "soap" mactavish

5.6 in, uncut, trimmed and maintained constantly, pretty pink but not much different from his skin tone, vvy girthy, leans a bit left but pretty straight this man is so damn funny. listen this mf has fell, cut himself, slipped, had a cramp, and hit his head too many times. he's so fucking clumsy but he's also so curious! but also...why does he want to have sex upside?!?! ughhhh!!! definitely a switch and definitely a power bottom...for a good 5 minutes. yes he will bite you and act like a brat whenever you dom him and mess with him, but as soon as you tie him up and edge him once, he's a goner definitely makes fun of you to see your flushed face, but also makes fun of himself. he uses his cock like a puppet and it has its own personality and voice. you laugh so hard and honestly that's better than hearing your moans. he loves your laugh makes his cock salute you before you two go down, it's so fucking funny. his "little buddy" jumping up when he calls attention and in parade rest. god it makes you laugh every time. his favorite position when he's subbing is cowgirl and reverse cowgirl. he's such an ass man, loves him some ass, will bite you like its actual cake. reverse cowgirl is reserved for when you're feeling mean though, because sometimes you just pull off of him to jerk him off and sit on his stomach. he has a nice view of your ass but can't see what you're about to do to him :( a big tease when he's domming, will have the most randomest patterns ever just to get you to whine and beg for him to go at certain pace. give him a few pouts and glossy tears and he'll do whatever you want, he's a big softie behind all the tease and bratiness. also a fan of doggy if you two are doing it quickly, he loves bending you over a surface and just going ham at it. good position for him to reach and jerk you off at the same time too. immediately cuddles as aftercare and not cleaning up right away, when he's subbing though, you def clean him up while he clings to you because he's so touchy feely but you want him to feel clean too, esp when he leaks so much (so much). when he's domming though, you two would just lay in bed (maybe even go for another round if you feel like it). gives you kisses and asks what you like and didn't like, a full debrief. plays mario kart afterwards with you and you let him win because you're tired. such a silly man

phillip graves

5.6 in, cut, not really trimmed or maintained, a pretty pink almost red tip, med girth, he curves UP like UP this man is a big tease, and super egotistical. he'll make you beg, whine, pout, and grind against him before he will even touch you. he likes cockwarning a lot while he's on a business call or doing paperwork. he's patient. makes you cum first, doesn't matter if he's domming or subbing, he wants you to use him like a toy for your own pleasure until you're satisfied enough that he'll even think about cumming. when he's domming, he loves to call you the nastiest things (if you allow him), absolutely ruins you and coats you with his cum. he's a southern gentlemen though and will make your mind go numb with pleasure, def a pleasure dom now that i'm using my noggin his fav positions are cowgirl, missionary, and doggy. lotus mostly so he can wrap his arms around you. makes you wear his cowboy hat when you ride him. and will use the hat rule in public to get you to suck him off in the car LOLOL i feel like he's big into gags, not really on you, but def on him. wants to be drooling and leaking all over himself while he whines and begs you to touch him, he's cute. likes being manhandled. grabbing his jaw, digging your nails into his back, biting him, even if he's on top, he'll enjoy it. he likes the scratch marks you give him and wears them like a trophy for his shadows to see. very vocal with you and loves to be a pillow princess when he bottoms. likes to be tied up with a vibe on his cock and edged and overstimulated will whimper and whine and moan and pout, like a little puppy. would probably grind up against your leg when he feels extra needy. aftercare with him is kinda shitty whenever he doms ngl. he'll make you something to eat and probably take you shopping afterwards. not a big cuddler but would hold you if you curl up into him. if he was subbing, he would probably take a nap after you pester him to take a shower. he'll just nap and finally wake up when he smells food that you get him for being so good lol saved by the grace of southerner charm

[puck-luck]

Ooh omg congrats on the 1K!!

I would like to request 5 of clubs with Jack Hughes please. (Maybe with an exhibition kink 🙈)

This isn't quite as clubs-like or exhibitionist, but I've been feeling slightly out of the mood today (I think because I had to make a lesson about the American relationship with Native Americans during colonization... not the most uplifting topic). Hoping for something better tomorrow!

Also I'm watching a 2.5 hour video essay about One Direction's history right now. I love that people can make whatever content they want, and they usually give it their all :)

after typing that i'm realizing that statement is really meta since i'm writing nhl fanfic. sigh. ok fine i guess i enjoy my own content whatever

Warnings: fingering, exhibition, Paul Mescal in Gladiator II WC: 592

You’ve never been one to keep trivial secrets from Jack. He’s your boyfriend and you are thoroughly against miscommunication. Your openness has resulted in plenty of fun jokes for Jack, the latest of which has landed you in your current predicament. You’re in the bougie movie theater that Jack always splurges on, sitting in a plush recliner and watching Gladiator II. Jack thought this would be a fun date night, because– well– you love Paul Mescal. 

It’s something about his nose. It’s very Roman, which you find sexy. Jack knows this, and knows that you’ve particularly enjoyed the costume design of the film, even joking with you about dressing up like a gladiator for Halloween. 

He hadn’t mentioned it again until this morning, which is when he told you that he’d bought some tickets for the film. It had actually been out for a while now, so the theater is relatively empty, but you’d never had the time to see the movie. Jack, after all, had wanted to see it with you… probably because he wanted to pull something like this.

He knows that Paul Mescal is your celebrity crush. You’ve been repeating that to yourself since you realized that it’s the motivation behind Jack’s movements. His touch had been casual at first, just tapping his fingers against your thigh. He’d convinced you to wear a skirt by claiming you’d be going to dinner afterward. You expect that his real reason is that he wanted easy access.

His fingers are inside of you now, petting over your walls. He’s teasing you, moving slowly when Paul Mescal isn’t on screen and thrusting into you at a quicker pace when your crush graces your vision with his presence. Jack also particularly likes drawing circles over your clit as he moves inside you, constantly keeping you on the edge.

“Jack,” you hiss, ready to try and convince him to stop, even though you only half-want his movements to cease. You’re flushing a bit, eyes darting around the theater to make sure no one is watching you. There are only a few other groups in the theater: another couple two rows ahead, a group of university-aged girls near the middle of the theater, two middle aged women in the front row. All in all, there are less than fifteen people in this theater. 

“Be quiet, baby. I can’t have everyone hearing you,” Jack murmurs. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, continuing his movements. He’s acting completely normal, even as your cunt squeezes him tight. 

You bring your hand down and clutch his wrist, trying to halt his movements. 

Jack turns to you. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asks quietly. Paul Mescal starts speaking on the screen and Jack’s eyes flicker away from you to check the screen. His thumb increases its pace against your clit and his fingers flex rapidly inside of you. 

You whimper a bit, clenching down involuntarily. Your knuckles turn white while your fingers grip his arm. Your hips jolt.

Jack quirks an eyebrow. 

“No,” you admit, loosening your grip and allowing him to continue. 

“Just pay attention to Paul,” Jack encourages, smirking at you and brushing a kiss against your cheek. “I’m just here to help you along, baby.”

You scoff quietly, cringing a bit at his words. 

Jack clocks your reaction, his face breaking out in a tiny smile. He giggles to himself, tracing the line of your jaw before mouthing against your throat. “Don’t laugh. We’re having fun. You, me, and your other boyfriend.”

[lunicho]

౨ৎ FUMA NSFW ALPHABET A-Z

| kei | fuma | nicho | juju | yuma | jo | harua | taki |

warnings: spanking, breeding kink, and crying.

A - aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

fuma is big on physical touch, after cleaning up a bit he loves to just lay own and draw circles on your body or play with your fingers or something like that. he just thinks you’re so so cute and he loves to just admire you for a bit before he starts the shower for you both. showering together after sex happens often and he loves to hold you close while the water runs down your bodies. he’s also big on cuddling after sex in general, like his hugs are amazing i just know it.

B - boobs or ass (are they a boob man or an ass man?) 

he’s an ass guy, the type to kiss your ass before slapping it. he just loves having handfuls of your ass to hold onto while he moves u along the length of his cock. his grip on you is always super firm, he doesn’t slap your ass a whole lot but he always squeezes it.

C - cum (anything to do with cum) 

fuma has breeder balls,,, hear me out y’all.. he loves to fill u with his cum and see how messy it gets. he always rubs your belly as well,, he just loves it sm. loves it even more when he keeps  fucking you after and it spills out and makes an even bigger mess <3

D - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) 

he secretly likes when you’re more dominant, he thinks you’re so sexy when you demand him and boss him around. he also gets off on the thought of it because the thought of him being able to fully let go just excites him. also,,, sometimes he feels like crying when he cums but he holds it back,, but y’all ain’t hear that from me.

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) 

fuma is fairly experienced, he hasn’t had a lot of casual sexual partners but i feel like he’s been in 1-2 long term relationships in the past. he’s pretty experienced because of this but is always willing to learn more as he goes.

F - favorite position (what is their favorite sex position?) 

113 / 101

he likes to be on the bottom, he loves when he can see you bouncing on him. his hands would run all over your body, mostly resting firmly on your hips. he also enjoys this position because its easy for him to kiss you. he finds it so sexy how you bounce on him and also grind your hips against him, its just overall so sexy to him. another reason he loves these positions is because he's able to thrust up into you easily when you get tired and he can see the way you crumble on top of him.

G - goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) 

sometimes he full on bursts out laughing during sex like it's just something that happens from time to time but he's pretty focused and serious for the most part. he can be really silly, usually when you’re cockwarming him or when you guys are spooning and having conversation. he loves talking to you during sex so so much so its a huge possibility for him to crack little jokes.

H - hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) 

i feel like he’s pretty hairy, i think that’s more just his preference. he may trim himself up just to do a little something but other than that he likes having hair there. overall he keeps it very natural and nobody asks but he likes when you’re natural too.

I - intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

he’s usually very very intimate, especially considering how protective and possessive he is on a regular basis. he’s romantic and loves feeling your skin against his. he’s always touching you so so lovingly as well and he treats you like his little princess.

J - jack off (masturbation headcanon) 

i feel like when he jerks off he more likes to thrust into his fist instead of stroking his length, i don’t know why i feel that way but i do. he also moans while he masturbates, like he doesn’t ever wanna hold back.

K - kink (one or more of their kinks) 

spanking - whether it’s a small tap on your ass or enough for him to leave you sore he just loves this so much. like i said he’s an ass guy so if needed he’ll lay you across his lap so he can lovingly bruise your ass :( he just loves how you jolt and moan and how pretty it sounds when you’re super reactive to him.

mutual masturbation - he loves the intimacy of seeing the way you pleasure yourself. he loves to be close by and just watch as you touch yourself. he also really likes when you get each other odd, arms crossed over one another as you both try to make the other cum. this is his favorite after a really long and tiring day as well <3

L - location (favorite places to have sex) 

he's a traditional guy, he loves sex in the bedroom. he just finds it easier and more intimate to be in the comfort of your own home and in the comfort of your own bed, he just likes it a little better that way. 

M - motivation (what turns them on?) 

a lot of things about you overall turn him on but i think one thing that stands out is your innocence and obedience. when he asks you to do something and you follow him so willingly and blindly he loves that so much. like if he’s like, “hey can you do something for me.” and you eagerly agree and just are so attentive to him and so interested in what he’s gonna ask he just finds it so cute.

N - no (Something they wouldn’t do) 

he’s not the degrading type, he may tease a bit but he never wants to talk down on you. i feel like he doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting you even slightly (other than when he spanks you,, or when he squeezes ur ass), even when it comes to your feelings so i feel like he’d rather just not degrade you at all.

O - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) 

he’s very focused on your pleasure and he loves giving you head BUT,, he really really loves receiving head. he loves when he can push himself down your throat and he loves when he can see you struggle to take him a little bit. when little tears prick at your eyes he swipes his thumb on your face to wipe them away. its just something about having you be so determined to take him and allowing him to go as far down your throat as he can.

P - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

on a regular basis i feel like fuma is slightly rougher, just with how harsh he is with his thrusts and the strength that he has behind them. it’s just what he naturally does but he can definitely be very very gentle and soft if you vocalize that you want him to be <3.

Q - quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) 

he loves them sm, loves to quickly fuck you before you guys finish getting ready. he loves to make you cum 20 minutes before you need to be at work, like he just has so much fun with it and he loves the rush and pace of the situation.

R - risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) 

like i mentioned before, he likes to learn along with you and in order to learn you kinda have to experiment. he's a huge fan of experimenting and trying new things out with you. it keeps things fun and he loves trying new fresh things so he's very willing to take risks. nothing that can harm you though! 

S - stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) 

he can go for as many rounds as you need him to go for. he doesn't run out of energy quickly, especially considering how athletic he is. he knows the amount of time he needs to properly recover between orgasms and he knows how to occupy the time accordingly by doing other things with you as well. he's pretty good for going however many times as you want. 

T - toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

i feel like he owns a fleshlight or one of those sleeve things with the texture on the inside if anything, he likes something to thrust into when he masturbates sometimes. i feel like he may get some toys for you, but only if you ask him to cuz he's skilled with his own hands and he's confident in his abilities. but he's definitely not opposed to toys, he just doesn't think to get them (but if u ask him to he'll find that he really enjoys bringing toys into the bedroom). 

U - unfair (how much they like to tease) 

only a little bit here and there, he loves to treat you like royalty and he loves to give you everything you could ever ask for. sometimes he’ll feel silly goofy and may tease a little bit but he gives in the moment you beg or whine.

V - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make) 

he’s not necessarily loud but he is vocal, always praising you and letting out moans and groans. he makes sure that you’re able to tell that you’re doing good and that he’s enjoying the sex. he doesn’t hold anything back and he doesn’t want you to hold anything back either <3

W - wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) 

fuma will call you and talk you through your orgasms when he’s away. he’ll just guide you and tell you how much he wishes you were there with him so he could care for you himself. especially if he knows you love his voice he’ll call you late at night to help you sleep as well. he’ll just ramble randomly, knowing it soothes you. 

X - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants) 

he’s closer to average size when it comes to length but he’s pretty thick. he provides a nice stretch when he presses into you.

Y - yearning (yow high is their sex drive?) 

his sex drive is very in between but its likely that you’ll be needier than he is. you guys most likely have sex very regularly but not every day unless you’re that needy. he can go a little while without sex though.

Z - zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

if im so fr he’s kinda like a grandpa so he falls asleep kinda fast after. he just likes getting all cleaned up and cuddling up with you after sex, he just feels extra cozy and warm so he holds you insanely close and dozes off like that.

a/n - i honestly don't know how i feel about this but lmk what u guys think!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 3

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of... Sex..aftercare..limits..NDA..discomfort...virginity..masturbation..anxity, Dom and Sub dynamics, Drinking , food, kissing, making out, Joel starts to get a little obsessive or toxic, Partying THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: Finally 21 its time to celebrate in more ways than one.

WC: 6.8K

A/n: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, In a week I've become an aunt and had crazy work shifts but I'm here and ready to deliver greatness my loves

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

It had been a week since you last saw Joel. He kept you up to date with messages and calls every so often, but he and Tommy had been super busy with a job site. You were still at your desk in your dorm, drawing in your sketchbook, when Faith burst in dramatically with balloons and a gift bag.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU, HAPPYYYYY BIRTHDAY!” Faith sang in a deep, raspy voice, pretending to be a jazz singer, making you laugh. “HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY!” She put the stuff down and got down on her knees, taking your hand and making you laugh even harder. “My lovely hot best friend, 21 and as sexy as ever!” She dragged you up out of your chair. “A bar full of hot men is needed to celebrate now that you can drink legally.”

You couldn't help but smile at her infectious energy. “Faith, you’re crazy,” you said, but you let her pull you to your feet.

"Crazy about celebrating my best friend’s birthday!" Faith declared, grabbing your coat and practically shoving it into your hands with a gleeful urgency. "Come on, we’re hitting up the best dive bar in town. Drinks, dancing, and maybe a little bit of trouble!"

There was no way you could say no to Faith, especially not on your birthday. You hurried to get ready, slipping on your favorite dress—a deep blue number that hugged your curves in all the right places—and a pair of heels that gave you just the right amount of height. You quickly did your makeup, adding a touch of shimmer to your eyelids and a bold swipe of red lipstick.

As you both stepped out into the cool night air, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. It was your first time celebrating your birthday since you and Joel had started seeing each other, and the thought of him not knowing it was your birthday left a strange feeling in your chest. But tonight, you decided to focus on having fun with Faith.

The dive bar Faith chose was lively and buzzing with energy. Neon lights flickered, casting colorful glows across the room. The sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and upbeat music filled the air, creating an atmosphere that was both intoxicating and inviting.

“To the birthday girl!” Faith cheered, raising her glass.

“To a night of fun!” you replied, clinking your glass against hers before downing the shot. The burn of the alcohol was invigorating, and you felt yourself loosening up as the evening progressed.

As you sipped on your cocktail, Faith leaned in with a mischievous grin. “So, how’s it really going with Joel? Is he keeping up with your needs?”

You blushed, looking down at your drink. “It’s been... interesting. He’s supportive and kind, but sometimes it feels overwhelming. Like, I don’t know if I can keep up with everything he wants.”

Faith raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is it the sex?”

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “No, it’s more than that. It’s just everything happening so fast. I’m trying to adjust, but it’s not easy.”

Faith nodded understandingly. “I get it. It’s a lot to take in. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you. Just take it one day at a time.”

You smiled, feeling grateful for her support. “Thanks, Faith. I needed to hear that.”

Faith took a sip of her drink and gave you a probing look. “So, what are the rules with you and Joel? Like, are you exclusive or...?”

You hesitated, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “We don’t really have any rules. We never talked about it, so I don’t know what’s okay and what’s not. It’s confusing.”

Faith’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you’re seeing this guy, and you don’t even know if you can flirt with other guys or not? That’s... kind of messed up.”

You bit your lip, feeling even more unsure. “I know. It’s just... everything’s been moving so fast, and with him being so busy, we haven’t had a chance to sit down and talk about it.”

Faith shook her head, a hint of frustration in her voice. “Girl, you need to get this sorted. You can’t just be in limbo, not knowing where you stand. It’s not fair to you.”

You sighed, swirling your drink. “I know. I just don’t want to pressure him, especially with everything going on. But at the same time, I need to know what’s okay and what’s not.”

Faith leaned in closer, her tone a mix of concern and determination. “You have to talk to him. Otherwise, you’re just going to drive yourself crazy. And if he can’t give you a straight answer, then maybe he’s not the right guy for you.”

You nodded, appreciating her honesty. “You’re right. I need to talk to him.”

Later, as you both sat at the bar, catching your breath, Faith nudged you playfully. “You know, Joel might be busy now, but he’ll come around. And when he does, he better make it up to you for missing your birthday.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “He didn’t even know it was my birthday, Faith.”

Faith’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Seriously? Oh man, we have to make sure he makes it up to you big time.”

You shrugged, trying to hide the small pang of disappointment. “It’s okay. He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Well, tonight is about you,” Faith declared, raising her glass once more. “To you, and to the best year yet!” 

“To the best year yet,” you echoed, clinking your glass with hers. As you looked around the bar, filled with laughter and life, a renewed sense of determination welled up inside you. You would figure things out with Joel, one step at a time. But for now, you were going to enjoy your birthday, surrounded by the love and support of your best friend.

The night continued in a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and drinks. The dive bar, with its pulsating music and dim neon lights, became a haven of freedom. Faith, ever the life of the party, had you dancing on tables and belting out karaoke songs with a fervor that had the entire bar cheering.

You laughed until your sides ached, twirling around the dance floor with Faith as your partner in crime. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the vibrant, intoxicating atmosphere of the bar. Faith's infectious energy kept you going, her enthusiasm pushing you to let loose and embrace the moment.

“Another round!” Faith shouted, her voice slurring slightly as she ordered more shots. You both downed the fiery liquid, the alcohol coursing through your veins and amplifying the sense of reckless abandon.

Somewhere between the third and fourth shot, you found yourself on the dance floor, the music a throbbing backdrop to your blurry vision. Faith was right beside you, her arm around your shoulder as you both swayed to the rhythm.

“You know,” Faith said, her voice loud in your ear over the music, “we should call Joel. Get him down here to celebrate properly!”

You blinked, the thought swirling in your foggy mind. “Faith, he’s busy,” you managed to say, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

Faith waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense! He needs to be here! It’s your birthday, after all!” She fumbled for her phone, her fingers slipping on the screen.

“You sure?” you asked, the idea of Joel seeing you in such a state making you both nervous and excited. 

“Absolutely!” Faith declared, her determination unwavering despite her drunken state. She tapped away on her phone, her face illuminated by the screen. “There, message sent. Now we wait!”

As the minutes ticked by, you both continued to drink and laugh, the world around you becoming a blur of colors and sounds. Faith convinced you to join her in another round of shots, and you lost track of how many you had consumed.

The bar seemed to spin around you, and you clung to Faith, giggling uncontrollably. “I love you, Faith,” you slurred, the words coming out in a jumbled mess. “You’re the best friend ever.”

Faith grinned, her eyes equally glazed. “And I love you, birthday girl. This is the best night ever!” She raised her glass, though it wobbled in her grip. “To us!”

“To us!” you echoed, though your coordination was failing. The glasses clinked precariously, spilling some of the contents onto the bar.

Time became a haze, and the last thing you remembered was Faith’s voice, insistent and a bit more serious. “Okay, maybe we should... we should call Joel again. Make sure he knows... knows we need him.”

You nodded, though the movement made the room tilt. “Yeah, good idea.”

Faith tried to dial his number, her hands barely cooperating. After a few attempts, she thrust the phone into your hands. “You do it. I can’t... can’t see straight.”

With some effort, you managed to find Joel’s contact and hit call. The phone rang and rang, and just as you were about to give up, his voice came through, sounding distant and concerned.

“Hey?”

“Joel!” you practically shouted, your words slurring together. “We’re... we’re at the bar. You should come... come here.”

There was a pause on the other end, then Joel’s voice, a mixture of confusion and worry. “Are you okay? Where exactly are you?”

You turned to Faith, trying to remember the name of the bar. She mumbled something incoherent, and you relayed the message as best as you could. “We’re at... at the Dive Shack. Come celebrate... my birthday.”

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice firm. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.”

The call ended, and you handed the phone back to Faith, a triumphant smile on your face. “He’s coming.”

Faith cheered, though it came out as more of a drunken squeal. “Joel to the rescue!”

As the night wore on, you and Faith continued your wild celebration, oblivious to the time or the curious glances from the other patrons. The bar seemed to tilt and spin, the neon lights blurring into streaks of color.

Eventually, you felt a pair of strong hands on your shoulders, steadying you. You turned to see Joel’s familiar face, his expression a mix of relief and mild exasperation.

“Alright, ladies,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Time to get you both home.”

Faith giggled, leaning heavily against him. “Joel! You made it! We were just... just talking about you.”

Joel shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “I can see that. Let’s get you both out of here.”

Joel managed to steer you and Faith out of the bar, his strong arms supporting both of you as you stumbled along the sidewalk. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the bar, and it helped clear your head a little. 

Joel’s truck was parked nearby, and he carefully helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were buckled in before turning his attention to Faith. She was swaying slightly, a goofy grin on her face as she leaned against the side of the truck.

“Faith, come on, let’s get you in the back seat,” Joel said, his voice gentle but firm.

Faith giggled, clumsily climbing into the back of the truck. “Joel, you’re such a hero,” she said, her words slurring together.

Joel sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “Just doing what I can.”

Once you were both secured, Joel climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional murmurs from Faith the only sounds breaking the silence. You leaned your head against the window, the cool glass soothing your throbbing head.

When you arrived at Joel’s place, he carefully helped you both out of the truck and into the house. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of comfort, and you felt your body relax a little as Joel guided you inside.

“Alright, you two sit tight for a minute,” Joel said, helping you and Faith onto the couch. “I’m going to call Tommy to come pick up Faith.”

You nodded, your head feeling heavy as you leaned back against the cushions. Faith, however, had other ideas. As soon as Joel stepped into the other room to make the call, she quietly got up and made her way over to Joel’s mini bar.

“Faith, what are you doing?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.

Faith grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Just one more drink to celebrate, okay? Joel’s got some good stuff here.”

You groaned, knowing this was a bad idea. “Faith, we’ve had enough.”

Faith ignored you, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. She poured a generous amount into each glass and handed one to you. “Come on, just one more. For your birthday.”

You hesitated, but Faith’s infectious energy and the lingering effects of the alcohol made it hard to resist. You took the glass, clinking it against hers. “Just one more,” you agreed, taking a sip.

The burn of the whiskey was both familiar and comforting, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Faith giggled, taking another sip of her drink. “See? This is how you celebrate.”

Joel returned just as you were finishing your drink, his eyes widening in surprise. “Faith, seriously? More drinks?”

Faith shrugged, a playful smile on her face. “Just one more for the birthday girl.”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, enough. Tommy’s on his way. Let’s just sit down and wait for him.”

He guided you both back to the couch, sitting down next to you and taking the glass from your hand. “You alright?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Joel.”

Joel gave you a reassuring smile, his hand gently squeezing yours. “Good. We’ll get Faith home, and then you can get some rest.”

A few minutes later, Tommy arrived, his expression a mix of amusement and concern as he took in the scene. “Looks like you two had quite the night,” he said, shaking his head with a grin.

Joel helped Faith up, guiding her towards Tommy. “She’s all yours. Thanks for coming to get her.”

Tommy chuckled, taking Faith’s arm. “No problem. You two get some rest.”

As Tommy and Faith left, Joel turned to you, his expression softening. Joel gently guided you to the couch, but the alcohol coursing through your veins made it difficult to stay quiet. As he pulled the covers up around you, the frustration and confusion of the past few weeks bubbled to the surface.

“Joel,” you began, your voice slurred but laced with bitterness. “Why are you so busy all the time?”

Joel paused, his hand lingering on the edge of the blanket. “You know how it is, the job site’s been hectic. But I’m here now.”

You shook your head, the room spinning slightly with the motion. “It’s not just tonight, Joel. It feels like you’re always too busy. I barely see you, and when I do, it’s like I’m just an afterthought.”

Joel’s expression tightened, his patience wearing thin. “I’m doing my best to make this work. Maybe you could try understanding that.”

You sat up suddenly, the alcohol making you bold and reckless. “It's not just that. It’s... it’s the contract. I can’t stop thinking about it. We never even talked about it.”

Joel’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The contract? What do you mean?”

You felt a surge of anger, your words spilling out in a rush. “I don’t know where I stand with you, Joel. Are we exclusive? Am I allowed to go out and flirt with other guys? I don’t even know the rules!”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought we were on the same page. Do you really need everything spelled out for you?”

“How could we be on the same page when we haven’t even read the same book?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I need to know what’s okay and what’s not. I need to know where I stand with you.”

Joel’s face tightened with frustration. “We’re together, aren’t we? I thought that was clear. Do I really need to put it in writing for you?”

Your anger flared again, the alcohol amplifying your emotions. “You know what else I can’t stop thinking about? How you ate me out but haven’t even taken my virginity yet. What the hell is that about?”

Joel’s eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled over his words. “I... I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted to make sure you were ready.”

“Ready?” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “We’ve been dancing around this for a month, Joel. Do you even want me, or am I just some project to you?”

Joel moved closer, his expression hardening. “Of course I want you. But you can’t have it both ways. One minute you’re saying I’m rushing you, the next you’re saying I’m not moving fast enough. Make up your mind.”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, and you struggled to form coherent thoughts. “I don’t know what I want! I just know this... this isn’t working. I feel lost, Joel.”

Joel’s tone turned cold. “Maybe if you stopped overthinking everything and just let things happen, you’d be happier. But no, you have to question everything, complicate everything.”

You pulled away, feeling a mixture of anger and hurt. “I need clarity, Joel. I need to know what this is.”

“Fine,” Joel said, his voice flat. “We’re together. We’re exclusive. Happy now?”

You shook your head, feeling the room spin again. “It’s not that simple. I need to feel secure, to know you’re committed.”

Joel’s patience snapped. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve been trying to balance everything—work, you, my own life. But it’s never enough for you, is it?”

You bit your lip, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “We need to figure this out, Joel. I need to know where I stand with you.”

Joel nodded curtly. “We will. But for now, get some rest. Maybe things will look different in the morning.”

You lay back down, the exhaustion and emotions finally overtaking you. Joel stayed by your side, but his presence felt more like a reminder of the tension between you than a comfort. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were far from resolved.

The sunlight streamed through the window, intensifying the pounding in your head. You groaned, trying to bury yourself deeper into the couch cushions, but it was no use. The hangover had its grip on you, and there was no escaping it.

Joel walked in, a smug grin on his face. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

You squinted up at him, your head feeling like it was being squeezed in a vise. “What time is it?” you mumbled.

“Almost noon,” Joel replied, handing you a glass of water and some painkillers. “Thought you might need these.”

You took them gratefully, gulping down the water. “Thanks. I feel like death.”

Joel chuckled, sitting down next to you. “I’m not surprised. You drank enough to knock out a linebacker last night. I didn’t know you had such a high tolerance.”

You winced, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. “Yeah, well, I don’t usually drink like that. Guess I found my limit.”

Joel’s grin widened. “You found it alright. But hey, at least you can finally drink legally now. No more sneaking around.”

You managed a weak smile, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly. “True. One perk of turning 21.”

Joel’s expression turned more serious, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “So, how much do you remember about last night?”

You frowned, trying to sift through the hazy memories. “Bits and pieces. I remember Faith dragging me to a bar and us having a few too many drinks. After that, it’s kind of a blur.”

Joel leaned back, crossing his arms. “Interesting. You were pretty chatty last night. Said some things you might not remember.”

Your heart sank, a sense of dread creeping in. “Like what?”

Joel’s grin returned, a bit too gleeful for your liking. “Oh, you know, just some deep, heartfelt confessions about our relationship. But don’t worry, nothing too serious.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his expression. “What do you mean?”

Joel shrugged, still grinning. “You were just really honest about how you’ve been feeling. But it’s fine, we can talk about it later when you’re feeling better.”

You felt a surge of anxiety. “Joel, please, just tell me what I said.”

Joel laughed softly, patting your hand. “Relax, it’s nothing bad. You were just a bit emotional, that’s all. It was actually kind of cute. I’ll tell you all about it once you’ve recovered.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never drinking that much again.”

Joel leaned in, his tone turning teasing. “Well, now you know your limit. And hey, at least you got all those feelings out in the open. Maybe it’s a good thing.”

You peered up at him through your fingers, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. “I guess so. But can we just pretend last night didn’t happen?”

Joel smirked, shaking his head. “No can do. But don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Just try to remember next time that you’re a lightweight.”

You managed a weak laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Deal. And thanks for taking care of me last night.”

Joel’s expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. “Anytime. Now, let’s get you something to eat. You’ll feel better with some food in your system.”

It had been a few days since the night out with Faith and the unexpected, blurry encounter with Joel. Life resumed its usual pace, filled with classes, assignments, and late-night study sessions. Despite trying to focus, your mind often drifted back to that night. You hadn’t seen Joel since then, but he had been texting sporadically, his messages lacking their usual warmth and enthusiasm. Something felt off, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted between you.

You were at your desk, working on a school assignment, when Faith barged into your dorm room with her usual energy. “Hey, birthday girl! How’s it going?”

You looked up from your laptop, managing a small smile. “Hey, Faith. Just drowning in work as usual.”

Faith flopped onto your bed, propping herself up on her elbows. “Well, I’m here to rescue you. We need to talk about your birthday night and what’s been going on since then.”

You sighed, setting aside your laptop. “Honestly, it’s been weird. Joel’s been acting kind of distant. I don’t know if it’s because of something I did or what.”

Faith’s eyes widened with interest. “Spill the details. What happened after we called him to pick us up?”

You frowned, trying to piece together the foggy memories. “I remember arguing with him, but it’s all a blur. I was pretty drunk, and I don’t remember everything I said.”

Faith sat up, a serious expression on her face. “Do you think you said something that upset him?”

You shrugged, feeling a knot of worry in your stomach. “Maybe. But he hasn’t mentioned it. He’s just been... odd. Like, he’s texting me, but it feels different. Distant.”

Faith pursed her lips, thinking. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“No,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t even know where to start. I’m not sure if he’s mad at me or if something else is going on.”

Faith stood up, determination in her eyes. “Well, let’s get you out of this funk. How about we go out for a coffee or something? Clear your head?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

As you both grabbed your coats and headed out, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety. What if things were changing with Joel? You pushed the thought aside, focusing on Faith’s chatter as you walked to the nearby café.

The café was cozy, with the comforting aroma of coffee beans and soft background music. You and Faith found a corner table, and she immediately launched into a story about her latest class project, making you laugh and momentarily forget your worries.

Midway through your latte, your phone buzzed with a message. You glanced at the screen and saw it was from Joel.

“Finished the big project. Want to celebrate tonight? Dinner at 7?”

You stared at the message, a mix of relief and apprehension washing over you. Before you could respond, Faith leaned over to read the screen.

“Ooh, dinner date! Looks like he wants to make things right,” she said, winking.

You bit your lip, unsure. “I don’t know. What if it’s awkward?”

Faith waved her hand dismissively. “Just go. Talk things out. And if he’s being weird, call him out on it. You deserve to know what’s going on.”

With Faith’s encouragement, you texted back.

“Sure. 7 sounds good. See you then.”

Joel responded quickly.

“Great. I’ll pick you up”.

You spent the rest of the afternoon working on your assignment, though your mind kept drifting to the upcoming dinner. As the clock ticked closer to 7, Faith took charge, helping you pick out an outfit and doing your hair.

“You look amazing,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “Joel’s going to kick himself for acting weird.”

You smiled, though the nerves in your stomach hadn’t eased. “Thanks, Faith. I just hope we can clear the air tonight.”

When Joel arrived, he was dressed sharply, holding a bouquet of flowers that added a touch of elegance to the evening. You felt a flicker of hope at the sight, though the cautious tension between you was hard to ignore.

The restaurant he chose was upscale, with dim lighting and a sophisticated ambiance. As you both settled into a corner table, Joel ordered a bottle of red wine. The waiter asked for your ID, and you fumbled slightly before handing it over. Joel, of course, wasn’t IDed, which made you feel a bit self-conscious.

Once the waiter left, Joel leaned back in his chair, giving you a warm smile. “You look amazing tonight,” he said, his tone light and flirtatious.

“Thanks,” you replied, returning the smile. “You look pretty good yourself.”

The wine arrived, and the waiter poured two glasses. Joel raised his glass. “To finishing projects and new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” you echoed, clinking your glass against his. The wine was rich and smooth, and the warmth spread through you as you took a sip.

Joel’s demeanor was celebratory, almost too much so. He didn’t mention the argument from your birthday, acting as if nothing had happened. His eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and charm, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in despite the lingering tension.

The conversation meandered through light topics—work, mutual friends, plans for the summer. You found yourself relaxing slightly, the wine helping to ease your nerves. Joel was attentive and flirty, his hand occasionally brushing yours, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer than usual.

Halfway through the meal, Joel reached into his wallet and pulled out a check, casually placing it on the table. Your eyes widened as you saw the amount—$300,000, the payment from the auction. You almost choked on your wine.

“Joel, what’s this?” you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and confusion.

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s the payment from the auction. I thought you should see it.”

You stared at the check, feeling a mix of awe and uncertainty. “That’s a lot of money.”

“It is,” he agreed, taking another sip of his wine. “But it’s for us. To help us start something new. I didn’t want it to be about the money. I wanted it to be about us.”

You nodded, still processing the magnitude of the situation. “This is... overwhelming.”

Joel reached across the table, taking your hand. “I know. But we’ll figure it out together.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of delicious food and comfortable conversation. Joel’s attentiveness and charm made it easy to forget the argument from your birthday, though a part of you still felt a lingering unease.

As dessert arrived, Joel leaned in, his expression turning more serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he began, his eyes searching yours. “I know things have been intense, and I’ve been busy, but I want you to know that I’m serious about this. About us.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. “I’ve been thinking a lot too.”

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze steady. “I want you to move in with me. I think it’s the next step for us.”

The proposition hung in the air between you. Your mind raced with thoughts and feelings. “Move in with you?” you echoed, trying to process the idea.

“Yeah,” Joel said, his tone earnest. “I know it’s a big step, but I want to build a life with you. I want to come home to you.”

You looked down at your hands, your mind spinning. “Joel, we’ve only known each other for a month. This is all so fast.”

He nodded, understanding. “I know it’s fast, but sometimes you just know, you know? And I know I want this. I want you.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “I don’t know, Joel. It’s a lot to take in.”

He squeezed your hand gently. “Take your time to think about it. There’s no rush. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

You nodded, appreciating his patience. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

As Joel walked you back to your dorm room door after dinner, the air between you was charged with a mix of anticipation and lingering tension. When you reached your door, you turned to him with a playful grin.

"You know, Joel, you've seen your home, but you haven't seen mine yet."

Joel chuckled softly. "True enough. Lead the way."

Entering your dorm, you gestured around the cozy space filled with art supplies, books, and posters of your favorite artists. "Sorry for the mess," you said, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"It's not a mess," Joel reassured you, looking around with interest. "It's... lived-in."

You chuckled. "Lived-in, exactly."

Joel wandered over to your desk, where your sketchbook lay open with various drawings scattered across the pages. He picked up the sketchbook and flipped through it, admiring your talent.

"I didn't know you were this talented," he remarked, his voice soft with genuine admiration.

Blushing slightly, you replied, "Thanks. Drawing helps me unwind."

Joel nodded, setting the sketchbook down and turning to face you. "I meant what I said earlier. I want us to figure things out together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a rush of emotions. "I want that too."

Taking a deep breath, you moved to your dresser, grabbing a comfortable T-shirt and leggings to change into. "I'll be right back," you said, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment.

When you returned, Joel was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding your sketchbook. He had ripped a blank page from it, now studying it with a thoughtful expression.

"What's that?" you asked, stepping closer.

Joel looked up, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I found a blank page and thought I'd leave you a note."

You smiled warmly, touched by the gesture. "Thank you," you murmured.

Joel set the sketchbook aside and patted the space beside him on the bed. "Come here."

You joined him, sitting close enough that your shoulders brushed. There was a comfortable silence between you, a sense of closeness and understanding that felt reassuring.

As Joel sat on your bed, he looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, there are a few things I've been thinking about," he began, his tone light and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, curious and a bit apprehensive. "Oh?"

Joel grinned and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of paper. "I made a little list," he confessed, handing it to you.

You took the paper, unfolding it to reveal Joel's neat handwriting. It listed a few bullet points, clearly meant as a mini contract, to outline your relationship's next steps and boundaries without overwhelming you :

1. Take your virginity – When you're ready, we'll take this step together.

2. Try a new restaurant every month – To explore and enjoy new experiences together.

3. Teach you how to play guitar – Sharing a passion and learning something new.

4. Move in with me – Start our life together in my place.

5. Exclusivity – We are committed to each other, no dating or flirting with others.

You looked up at Joel, feeling a mix of emotions. He smiled warmly, his voice soft but firm. "I thought this might help us both know where we stand and what we're looking forward to. No pressure, just a guideline."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief mixed with anticipation. "I appreciate this, Joel. It makes things clearer."

Joel leaned in, his tone becoming more playful. "And remember, these are just starting points. We can add or adjust as we go along. The important thing is that we communicate and take things at our own pace."

You felt a smile spread across your face, the tension easing as you considered the list. "I like that," you said, feeling more confident about your future together.

You looked up at Joel, feeling a mix of emotions. He smiled warmly, his voice soft but firm. "I thought this might help us both know where we stand and what we're looking forward to. No pressure, just a guideline."

As you processed his words, Joel's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "You look stunning tonight," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you smiled shyly. "Thanks, Joel."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your lips. "I can't stop thinking about you," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and affection. "Every moment we're apart feels like an eternity."

Your heart raced as Joel's lips hovered just inches from yours. You could feel the magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer together. Unable to resist any longer, you closed the gap, your lips meeting in a tender, passionate kiss.

Joel's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. His hand tangled in your hair, while his other hand trailed down your back, sending shivers through your body. You responded eagerly, your hands exploring his broad shoulders and strong back.

As the kiss grew more intense, Joel's playful side emerged. He nipped at your lower lip, making you gasp. "You're driving me crazy, you know that?" he said with a grin, his voice husky with desire.

You laughed softly, feeling emboldened by his flirty demeanor. "Good," you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Because you're driving me crazy too."

Joel's eyes sparkled with mischief as he captured your lips again, this time with more urgency. The room seemed to fade away as you lost yourselves in each other, the connection between you growing stronger with every passing second.

The air between you and Joel grew thick with anticipation, his eyes darkening with desire. His hands roamed your body, fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he pulled you closer. Your breaths mingled, the heat building between you with every passing second.

Joel's lips moved from your mouth to your neck, planting a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling with both excitement and need. His response was a low growl, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly to expose more of your skin.

Just as things were about to escalate further, the door suddenly swung open, and Faith barged in. "Hey, I was just—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. A mischievous giggle escaped her lips, and she quickly shut the door. "Oops, sorry!" she called out from the hallway.

The interruption brought you both back to reality. Joel sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Seems like we have terrible timing," he said with a chuckle, though his eyes still burned with unfulfilled desire.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement. "Yeah, you could say that."

Joel pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist. "We’ll have our moment, don’t worry," he reassured you, his voice tender. "But I should probably get going now. We don’t want to give Faith any more reason to gossip."

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment but understanding the situation. Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before stepping back. "Text me later, okay?" he said, giving you one last lingering look before he left.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Faith burst back into the room, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Oh my God, what did I just walk in on?" she exclaimed, flopping onto your bed with a dramatic sigh.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment. "Nothing, Faith. Just... a moment."

"Just a moment?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Looked like a pretty steamy moment to me. Come on, spill. What were you two up to?"

You sighed, sitting down next to her. "We were just talking, and things got a little... heated."

Faith's eyes widened with excitement. "Heated, huh? So, did you two...?"

"No!" you interrupted quickly, blushing furiously. "It didn’t go that far. You interrupted us, remember?"

Faith giggled, not looking the least bit sorry. "Well, you’re welcome for saving you from potential awkwardness. But seriously, how was it? Joel seems like he’d be a great kisser."

You couldn't help but smile at the memory. "He is," you admitted softly. "He’s... amazing."

Faith smirked, nudging you playfully. "Sounds like you’re really falling for him. But just be careful, okay? He’s got that whole mysterious, brooding thing going on. Make sure you know what you’re getting into."

You nodded, appreciating her concern. "I will, Faith. Thanks."

Faith leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. "So, what’s next? You two planning another hot makeout session?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don’t know. We’re taking things one step at a time."

Faith grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, just make sure to give me a heads-up next time. I’d hate to walk in on another 'moment.'"

You laughed again, feeling a sense of relief and camaraderie. "I’ll do my best," you promised, grateful for her nosy but well-meaning presence.

As you and Faith continued to chat, your phone buzzed with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you saw Joel's name and felt a flutter of excitement and curiosity.

“Hey, I wanted to make it up to you for missing your birthday. How about a trip next weekend? Don’t worry about the details, just clear your schedule.”

You felt a rush of emotions, a mix of anticipation and relief. Joel was always full of surprises, and this gesture felt particularly significant after the rocky patch you’d been navigating.

"Who’s that?" Faith asked, peering over your shoulder with a grin.

"It’s Joel," you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. "He wants to take me on a trip next weekend. He said not to worry about the details and just clear my schedule."

Faith’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Ooh, a romantic getaway! Sounds like he’s trying to make up for missing your birthday. That’s so sweet!"

You nodded, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "Yeah, it is. I guess he really does want to make things right."

Faith nudged you playfully. "So, where do you think he’s taking you? Somewhere exotic? A cozy cabin in the woods?"

You shrugged, a dreamy look in your eyes. "I have no idea. Knowing Joel, it could be anywhere. He loves surprises."

Faith grinned, clearly enjoying your excitement. "Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be amazing. Just make sure to take lots of pictures and tell me all about it when you get back."

You laughed, feeling a sense of gratitude for her enthusiasm. "I will. Thanks for always being so supportive, Faith."

"Anytime, girl," she said, giving you a reassuring hug. "Now, let’s get you ready for this trip. We need to pick out the perfect outfits and make sure you’re prepared for anything."

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

Chapter 002: Long Live the King

Isabelle is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile at the club, you gather up the courage to buy a Handsome Stranger a drink.

↳ 001 (PROLOGUE) // 002 // 003 // 004 // 005 // 006 // 007 EPILOGUE

CW: slight age gap (steve is 31, sweets is 23) , homoerotic steddie workout scene (just guys bein dudes) 😵‍💫🚨 drinking, smoking, gambling, drugs mentioned, shy girl makes one (1) unaliving joke, weight discussed briefly, this chapter contains scene/POV splits, each chapter will have its own warnings

card suits divider by @cafekitsune 🃏🧡

a/n: the hargroves own 'rock you like hurricane', do not try to change my mind.

“SHUT UP & PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS.”

word count: 5.6k words

♛

12:03 PM - Sweets and Isabelle

“There he goes again,” Isabelle sighs. “Long Live the King…”

It’s the sixth Elvis impersonator you’ve seen so far. Further down the strip of Old Vegas there was Jailhouse Rock Elvis, Unchained Melody Elvis, Elvis-If-You-Tried-To-Draw-Him-By-Memory, and Donuts-On-The-Toilet Elvis.

“I feel like I’ve seen every variant of The King possible,” you remark. “All that’s missing now is ShowGirl Elvis or Stripper Elvis.”

The statement alone piques your curiosity while you and Isabelle continue to walk. Suddenly, you find yourself asking your BFF a very interesting question.

“Would you ever wanna be a stripper?”

Isabelle stiffens abruptly.

It’s a pause you’ve never seen before in your life. But given that Isabelle has been an extreme empath for as long as you’ve known her, women in sex work may be a very sensitive topic.

“No,” Elle says to you, flatly. “They go through entirely too much.”

It’s the response you expected. It’s very easy for Isabelle to put herself in other people’s shoes — or heels in this sense. Even easier if they’re women at the hands of a man who holds a fair amount of power over them. It’s no wonder it seems triggering.

“It’s an admirable job though,” she manages to add. “Strippers don’t get enough credit. If I had a stripper in my life I would treat her like a queen.”

“Well, you'll have the chance to tonight," you smirk. "Given where we're going..."

Tonight you two are headed to Jackpot Gentlemen's Club, a strip joint on the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester.

It's more of a business endeavor than anything. The plan is to support all the beautiful dancers, all while promoting Isabelle's lingerie line, Bright & Belle.

For as long as you've known Isabelle, she's always been money-driven.

But in the best way. After divorcing from her ex-husband — Eddie, you believe his name was — Isabelle had been hyper-fixated on the hustle. And after seeing that ‘Girl-Boss’ mindset of hers flourish throughout the years, you wanted to be there for her in anyway you can.

What you haven't told Isabelle though, is that you wanted to feel sexy too. You’ve been deficient in Vitamin A(ttention) as of late, and a non-committal hook up in a "What Happens Here, Stays Here" type city sounded pretty enticing. A graduation reward and all.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Isabelle abruptly pries.

Piggybacking off your thoughts. How on-brand for the two of you.

You mask your thoughts further with a scoff of annoyance.

"Elle."

"Don't Elle me," she bumps you with her hip. "When was the last time you got a proper dicking down? Like really."

"I'm celibate," you lie snarkily.

"Oh come on!" she groans. "I know that's a lie. You know that's a lie. I mean, have you read the room? We are in Vegas."

You indeed have read the room. But that was besides the point. Isabelle has been so focused on creating a better life for herself, and she's done so much for you as well that you felt as if your presence at all times was mandated.

"I just don't wanna be all lovey-dovey in your face," you shamefully admit. "Especially since you're still healing from your own losses with love. Given your divorce from Eddie and all."

Isabelle rolls her eyes.

"Oh you mean the divorce that happened four years ago?!" she demands. "Almost five now, I think. Just because you're more likely to have a night to be celebrated and adored as a goddess, doesn't mean any of that is taken away from me."

You smile sheepishly at the floor, hooking your arms with Isabelle's as you two continue on your walk.

"Besides, I'm much older than you," she points out. "I've had my glory days. Now it's time for you to be selfish. Enjoy the rest of your 20s. What other place to do it than Vegas?"

She flashes a charming grin your way. "And I've got your back through and through."

"I love you," you beam at Isabelle tear-eyed. "You're the sister I never had."

“I love you too," she coos. "More than anything in the world. I'd be your non-biological sister in every lifetime if I could."

You two take a moment to fully admire each other, doing your little handshake you came up with when you met her in the early years of college, to honor your established sisterhood.

You and Isabelle against the world. No matter what.

Afterwards, Isabelle wraps you up in her arms as you two walk.

"Onwards, sweetheart. Let's go find you a King of your own.”

“I WANNA SEE YOU WORK OUT FOR ME. WORK OUT FOR ME.”

12:03 PM - Steve and Eddie

“Mmmh…fuck…shit.”

The room echoes with Steve’s strained grunts as sweat pools at his forehead.

It’s the workout of his life. But of course anyone would feel that way, running solely on coffee and a single scoop of creatine, right at peak lunchtime.

“Shit,” The King pants. "Don’t know how much left I got in me, Eds."

His pumps? Weaker. His reps? Gradually more incomplete. And with enough intensity to draw blood, Steve bites his lower lip in concentration, the grunting inevitably summoning Eddie over to his struggling friend.

The rugged metalhead leaps from the bar he was doing pull-ups from and strides towards the retired jock.

“You can handle it, Big Boy.”

Situating himself over Steve, Eddie floats his chalky palms over The King’s protruding chest, feet shoulder width apart and ready to spot.

“I…UGH— I…can’t!”

“Quit whining. I know you can.”

“I CAN’T! It’s too much…m literally shaking, Eds.”

“If you aren’t shaking you’re not doing it right,” Eddie Munson smirks. “Finish for me, Stevie, let’s go.”

The bulk of Steve’s arms relax and contract as The King pushes upwards, face scrunching in euphoric agony with every pump.

SLAM! CLINK!

Eddie's quick to swoop down to the base of the machine with one hand, reach extending to Steve with the other. Meanwhile Steve scrunches himself upwards, leaning forward on the bench as he wipes his forehead that was dripping with sweat. He's tapped out.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

“Yeah..." Steve pants as he collects himself. "Yeah. I am. Thanks."

Steve takes a moment to look at himself in the high-rise glass mirror.

Naturally the arms come into sight first. There's a foreign roundness to them, and an undeniable softening of Steve's chest that the girls at Hellfire call "broad and beefy", but he can only categorize it as "fluffy". His gaze then dips down to his tummy, an avenue once firm and washboard-like now presenting with a soft, undeniable curve. No abs. Just flesh... a sobering manifestation of what too many nights of dry gin and "The Eddie Special": Spice Level Unforgiven can do to a guy. And while others might call it a “Certified Dad Bod,” Steve never found the compliment flattering. It just reminds him—he's getting older. Living on borrowed time.

"Holy shit," Steve breaks the silence. "I need to lay off the margaritas.”

“Well now isn’t the time to do it!” Eddie exclaims, clearly doing pirouettes on the opposite side of the pendulum. "Have you read the room? We're in Vegas, baby! We need to be excretion-less, out, and ready to party by tonight!"

Finding it nearly impossible to match his energy levels, Steve studies ‘Sweaty Eddie’ as he downs his water, the protrusion of his razor-burnt Adam’s Apple bobbing with every large gulp, the B.O. radiating off his hairy armpits being enough to wipe out the entire state of Nevada with just one brisk movement.

“Man, how did you manage to get married before me?” Steve huffs. “Twice!”

Eddie laughs, keeping the water contained in his mouth with a swipe of his fingers.

“Was that supposed to be a dig?”

“Well you weren’t exactly hot shit in high school.”

“There’s your answer then," Eddie clicks his tongue as-a-matter-of-factly. He does a boisterous dance around his burnt-out buddy. "Ladies love the freaks.”

Eddie studies Steve as he continues to ponder in a tone-deaf abyss.

“That's another thing I've been meaning to talk to you about," Eddie emphasizes. "We’ve gotta get you out of that high school mindset, dude."

Steve looks up again. "Huh?"

Eddie shakes his head. “It's beginning to look like you peaked when you were 18..." He takes a minute to playfully check him out. "Which obviously isn't the truth. But operating from that headspace is what’s stopping you from getting a good lay. I guarantee you."

"That or I just don't have rizz..." Steve grimaces. "Or whatever Dustin always says."

Eddie grimaces with him. He really wished Steve would quit saying that. Or anything from Dustin's vocab bank for the matter. "Yeah. Right. Let's keep that shit a Dustin thing."

He sets his water bottle down.

"Alright Harrington, here's the plan," Eds scoffs. "Tonight we'll put on our best Gatsy cosplays, get some drinks to loosen ya up, and then meander around Jackpot so you can talk up some babes. Work on the confidence...w-"

"Yeah, I think I'll pass," Steve shrugs. "I've got some emails I gotta reply to anyway."

“Oh come on. Think of all the honeys you’ll attract post-pump!” Eddie incentivizes. “Look at them ARMS, baby. Them ARMS!"

Eddie issues himself a seat next to Steve. Steve allows him the space, but doesn't appear to be sold on the plans Eddie had for tonight.

"Look, I'm sorry the girl of your dreams ended up with my bartender," Eddie begins. "And that I unintentionally stole your other dream girl when you guys began hitting it off pretty well... and that her best friend that you were madly in love with ended up being a lesbian and you didn't find out until after the two platonic outings. And that..."

"Are you trying to make me feel like absolute dog shit?"

"No, I'm turning this into an inspirational Ted Talk if you'd let me," Eddie scorns. "Fact of the matter is, Hawkins? Is Lover's Lake. WE..."

Eddie points in the opposite direction, south of The Strip.

"...have arrived at Treasure Island, baby! Lots of fish in the sea. Lots of beautiful women looking to have a good time. You can't make any progress in the same environment that drained you. You gotta lean into new beginnings. And maybe that means finding love in a city outside your comfort zone."

"Yeah, yeah. Just cuz I spawned into a new city doesn't guarantee complete past erasure," Steve mutters. "13 years later, but I'm still that same asshole ASB kid who gave others a hard time for validation. Maybe that's my karma. Maybe I don't deserve love."

"That's where you're wrong," Eddie snaps. "You ARE deserving of love."

It is that moment the two friends' eyes meet. It hurts Eddie to see Steve self-sabotage himself. He was so excited to come to Vegas with him and Shy Girl. Imposter Syndrome will ruthlessly make someone their bitch if they let it. Not today, though. Not under Eddie's watch.

"Your life is just beginning, Steve," Eddie emphasizes. "It pains me to see that you haven't seen your full potential yet. And just because this gentleman got his happy ending... doesn't mean there isn't one for you out there."

"Why do I always run?" Steve sighs. "Why do I always run away from good opportunities knowing full well I deserve to be happy too?"

"Because you're so used to rejection," Eddie snorts. "Believe me. Takes one to know one. You'll miss out on a lot of opportunity doing that. Which is something I'm not gonna let you do. For as long as you're under my wing."

The two friends then share an affectionate, and sweaty, hug. It took a lot of hashing out for these two to get to this point. They weren't exactly the best of friends in high school. But over time, when life reared its ugly head and all they had left was each other, the two gentlemen realized they were more alike than they thought. And that was a whole 'nother avenue of self-love they had to discover; and of course they did it side by side. Steve and Eddie forever.

“Whew, let’s go!” Steve whistles, getting out of his feelings for real this time. “We earned ourselves a Fat Tuesday!”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Eddie smirks. “Can't wait to hit the clubs and find you a hottie.”

"HERE I AM! ROCKED YOU LIKE A HURRICANE."

12:30 PM - Shy Girl and Nina

"If I can't find anything to wear, I'm gonna kill myself."

Shy Girl and Nina are found anxiously strutting around Fashion Show Mall, attempting to find some cute lingerie sets before their guest performances tonight.

"Bold of you to say for someone who looks good in everything," Nina scoffs.

The club they're performing at tonight is called Jackpot, a strip joint in the outskirts of Vegas right outside Winchester. It's no Hellfire, but the name of the game remains constant: CAPITALIZE OFF OF MEN'S DESIRES.

"I need something dramatic and sexy,” Shy Girl prowls. “Something Vegas has never seen before. Something to make me stand out for the tips. Something that screams... here I am."

"We can check Victoria's..." Nina suggests.

"Tried that. Eddie pretty much bought me every set from there."

"How about Love Loft on the second floor?"

"Their sets fit me weird. And I would like their wires to hold my titties up. Not puncture my lungs, thank you very much."

Spoiled with every piece of lingerie she could ever ask for, Shy Girl still had nothing to wear tonight.

It's expected coming from a dancer who has worn and done it all. Having rocked the city of Hawkins like a hurricane straight out of California, Shy Girl was just aching for some action elsewhere. And in light of her friend Steve's booming business over the past couple of years — and in celebration of her husband's early retirement from CEO-ism — why not bring the goodies to Vegas?

"What about this, Hargrove?"

"Ew. Too much glitter."

"Okay... this then?"

"Too little glitter."

"Bitch, if you don't just DECIDE!"

It's taken ages for Shy Girl to take up the amount of space that she does. And with this newfound confidence, there was no going back. During her time at Hellfire, Shy Girl had learned to become a goddess in her own skin, the baddest bitch who was deserving of the softest life; and there wasn't anything her controlling twin brother could ever do to change her mind. And even if he wanted to, he would have to get past those steel, metal bars first. Something that's remained unsuccessful for the past year and a half.

"It can't be too sparkly, but it also can't be too basic," Shy Girl notes aloud. “Something that hugs the girls just right, but isn’t too snug in the crotch area.”

Nina nods absentmindedly as they continue to patrol.

“Something that won’t cost an arm and a leg,” Shy Girl adds. “But also not something made by a child in a sweatshop.”

“Totally,” Nina hums.

They tread onward, having probably met their steps for the day, Shy Girl growing increasingly more agitated with every stride.

“I just want something that makes me look pretty, ethereal, and soul-snatching!" she grunts again. "Is that too much to ask?!”

“Something like that?”

Shy Girl turns in the direction of Nina's pointing finger. And in her field of view is the prettiest set she's ever seen.

"Are you kidding me?!" Shy Girl squeals in excitement.

Seductive and scarlet red. Tight, satin material embellished with extravagant-looking faux diamonds. The star of the set is the heart shape neckline, with showgirl-like frills at the hips that resemble an eternal flame.

Running to the display now, Shy Girl reaches over to fondle the set while Nina desperately sets off after her.

The set is more stunning the closer they got, with so much attention to detail, it was surely crafted by a girl's girl. Someone who knows what the people want and exactly how to get it. And also a woman who is calculated.

Lady in Red.

"It's even called Lady in Red, dude," Shy Girl beams, a prominent twinkle in her eyes. "This set is made for me. WHO IS THE MASTERMIND BEHIND THIS MONEY-MAKER? I could just kiss her."

“Hmm... Elle Warren," Nina reads. "CEO of Bright & Belle.”

Beside the set is a podium that show-cases the set's creator. She's smiling in her headshot, with a pink suit and her arms crossed, showing off her radiant smile, and even more radiant ocean eyes and Barbie-blonde locks.

"Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, bold, and UNSTOPPABLE. My mission is to empower women by turning pain into power. Bright & Belle is designed to celebrate all body types, all shades, and all sizes, offering a collection that makes every woman feel confident and comfortable in her own skin. I hope to become the rainbow after someone's storm, one sexy set at a time."

“Wow," Shy Girl coos. "She’s so pretty... and inspirational.”

“Biased much?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wh- look at her! Blonde curly hair? Piercing blue eyes, she looks just like you.”

“Maybe Billy and I have a triplet we just don’t know about,” Shy Girl theorizes, the conniving pearly-white Hargrove smirk reappearing on her face.

“Girl with the life you live, y’all might as well," Nina rolls her eyes. "Now c'mon. Let's go see what this club's all about. Bet it can't beat Hellfire."

9:00 pm - Sweets

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH A NIGHT OF SIN?"

“Now this… this is heaven.”

It appears that Jackpot is where the party is at. Isabelle's eyes light up with dollar signs when she observes the booths filled with patrons, stage badazzled with the sexiest dancers you both have ever seen, and a bar so full that there was hardly any room in the corners to wall-sit.

"Looks like we've got some impressions to make," Isabelle remarks. "That being said, I'll be in the powder room, if you'll excuse me."

You watch in disapproval as she issues a joking tap atop the tip of her nose. When she sees you scowling at her, Isabelle shrinks herself back down immediately.

"I'm joking, Sweets," she says. "I'm just going to the bathroom. You know that."

"With every joke there is a little truth," you mutter. "And you've been making a lot of blow jokes lately."

Isabelle was hooked on benzos and cocaine her first year of college. Granted, you both went to school in PULLMAN, the "hippie haven" of Washington State, so it didn't make her that much of an outlier.

But the abuse was heavy, most of it correlating with the abuse she endured in her marriage.

"Are you using again?" you accuse.

"No, honey."

"Then why'd you make a joke?"

"Because I thought it was funny. Stop looking so much into it."

You take a second to issue yourself some deep breaths. Noticing your distress, Isabelle gives you a consoling rub on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that joke," she frowns. "I know how much you worry for me. But I'm clean. I promise."

"Okay," you mumble.

Friends don’t lie. And Isabelle has never given you any reason to doubt her. So why should you?

"I'll be back," she excuses herself again. "Just gonna go use the lil Big Sisters’ room. We'll be shaking ass with the strippers before you know it."

You snort to yourself as she scampers out of your sight. Now it’s just you alone with your thoughts and yearning.

Isabelle's speech from earlier echoes through your ears once again. It's time for you to enjoy your 20s. College is over and you can finally let loose. So why did you feel guilty, wanting to roam free during Isabelle’s most pivotal moment instead of supporting her? You two have been joined at the hip for so long, it felt unnatural to exclude her from things. You wanted to do everything with your “big sister”.

"Alriiiight, ladies and gentlemen," the DJ announces as he transitions his performance track to a familiar 80s song. "Thank you so much for coming and supporting all of these beautiful dancers!”

The crowd erupts in rampant cheers and whistles. You clap along too, while scanning the room for a nice guy to talk up.

“We have a special treat for you tonight,” the DJ continues. “We’ve got some dancers from out of state, so give them a warm Las Vegas welcome…”

Your gaze piques in curiosity as the R&B track fades into a guitar riff, soon to be melted into a very familiar song from the 80s, critically acclaimed by people who lived on the edge of Sexy and Wild.

“…All the way from Hawkins, Indiana…” says the DJ. “…from the HELLFIRE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB...GIVE IT UP... FOR SHYYYY GIRLLLLL!"

The music now blares through the speakers as one of the dancers makes her grand entrance. And soon a specific corner of the room erupts in a frenzy the moment she fully emerges onto the stage.

"Here I am! Rocked you like a hurricane."

And she is a smokin' hot hurricane if you ever did see one.

You fawn over the stripper’s captivating eye make-up. Her bouncy, golden blonde hair with just as bouncy, perky, tits. And the ass on this chick? That thing’s got a zip code and a mind of its own. Just look at it go.

Everyone cheers, specifically two people in the corner, presumably her hometown peeps who flew out to see her perform. There's a girl with long, dark hair, and given her attire, you presume she's a performer too. There's also a man next to her, also with long hair and is most likely her partner, hooting and hollering as if he wasn't even allowed to hoot and holler at home, handing everyone around him some shots while he praised every move she made.

“What a fucking badass,” you say to yourself. "She's got the crowd by the horns."

And that captivating red set. It suits this ‘Shy Girl’ so well it almost makes you tear up. It is then not too long after that you realize you’ve seen this set before.

It’s one of Isabelle’s sets. One of your best friend’s creations. The Lady in Red.

"That's my wife!" the Van Halen-looking guy boasts proudly. "THAT'S MY WIFE! Doing amazing, baby!"

Your suspicions were correct. Shy Girl is that man’s wife. And what a lucky man he is. Urgently grabbing your phone, you go to shoot Isabelle a text about the dancer wearing her set.

to: Isabelle Warren

Girl come quick! A dancer on stage is wearing Lady in Red! She's really good!

Enamored, you watch as Shy Girl swoops down to her knees on the left side of the tip rail. She blows the bar a kiss. When your eyes follow in that direction, you see a — very attractive — man who seems to be part of that same group, judging by how they interacted with one another from across the room.

There's a glimmer, a familiar pining in his fiery, molten eyes as he leans back against the barstool, admiring the dancer from head to toe. When they meet gazes, Shy Girl winks at him and struts away.

The exchange draws you to reach two conclusions: the man is either secretly in love with this chick, or they've been friends for a really long time.

Suits was about to be deeply infatuated with you, though. With your sudden boost of confidence to want to approach him tonight.

Without another lingering thought, you strut over to the bar to greet the older piece of eye candy with your signature, warm grin.

"Hi there.”

But his reaction is the least of what you expected.

"Oh god," the gentleman sighs. "Did he send you to me?"

Confused, you take a look around.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh cut the crap, kid, I've seen it all before,” the man scoffs pessimistically. “What'd he promise you? Huh? Tickets to see Adele or Blue Boys? Free rounds of shots?”

"He didn't promise me anything," you huff in protest. "God forbid I actually wanna talk to somebody on a night out. Is this a trauma response because if so, this needs to be visited. In therapy, perhaps. Not a bar."

The ego — or lack of — of the guy seemingly deflates, a flushed red color appearing at the heat of his cheekbones before radiating to his ears.

"You mean you willingly came up to me?" he continues to stare in disbelief.

"Yes..." you narrow your eyes at the Pick-Me-Nice-Guy in front of you. "But something tells me I shouldn't have."

His gaze softens even more. It's apologetic now.

"It's not every day I get approached anymore," he says. "Usually I'm the one that does the chasing."

"Well, why not?" you shrug, deflating your ego along with him as well. "You're handsome, young, look like a fun time... How can the ladies not?"

It catches him off guard.

"Young," he laughs at this. "How old are you anyways?"

"23," you gaze at him through your eyelashes. "How old are you?"

"I'm 31, cutie."

You can feel your heart beating in more places than one. And when your eyes travel down to his lap, you're greeted by a warm and open manspread, the base of his knees angled towards your body, the same way his broad torso invites you into him.

You accept his advance.

"Oh come on," you blush. "That's not even that much older."

"Not that much older? Just you wait," he says with a slight chuckle. Your breath hitches his knee brushes against your ass. "Soon you can't drink the way you used to, your knees hurt, and you wake up ten pounds heavier than the day before. Trust me, I know."

"Rich coming from someone who's a few years removed from my generation."

And rich, judging by the intoxicating cologne that clung to his skin like a second layer. Rich, judging by the perfectly pressed, popped collar of his Maceoo dress shirt. Rich, judging by his wait-list only watch that rested neatly on his wrist, catching the glare from the strobe lights every so often.

"You're kidding," he snaps you back to reality. "You're really Gen Z?"

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you tsk. You watch as his pupils drastically increase in size the more you sway into him. "I'm part of the knows-what-they-want-and-gets-it type of crowd."

You nod to the bartender to start a tab for you. Playing it safe, you request two gin-and-tonics, offering a glance to the now more-than-receptive man in front of you.

"Can't relate," he breathes. "'m a millenial."

"Ah, the hate-my-life crowd."

"Better than the hate-my-wife crowd” he winks, subtly jabbing at the ever-so-argumentative Generation-X.

"Oh definitely," you agree, clinking your glass with his. "And I can tell by your friends you guys are the total opposite."

Both of you look back over at the his friends, and to your surprise, discover that the group is staring back at you as well. Group being the Shy Girl dancer's husband and the dark-haired dancer beside him. When your eyes meet theirs they immediately look away, but sheepishly smile to each other along with "do you see this?" type of nudges.

"So what's your deal?" you smirk, turning back to the guy. "You seeing anybody?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be here talking to you, honey," Suits smirks, his espresso eyes devouring you while his palm hovers over the small of your back. "I’m really sorry we got off the wrong foot. I’m Steve.”

You tell him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”

“You as well, Sweets.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I own my own business,” Steve smiles. “Been doing it a couple years now, and it’s really taken off.”

“What business is it?”

“I sell bobby pins,” Steve explains. It confuses you at first but you remain supportive. “But they’re a special kind.”

Intrigued, you watch as Steve digs into his pocket to fetch you some samples.

“My buddy Eddie over there owns a strip club,” Steve explains, nodding towards the feral, long-haired guy over in the corner. “And unfortunately one too many dancers have gotten roofied, so I made bobby pins that change color when it senses something weird in your drink.”

"Do they now?"

"They sure do," Steve nods proudly. "The bobby pins turn black if they detect the roofie drug. So if you think your drink's been spiked, that's a foolproof way for ya to check."

“This is very neat,” you beam, holding the pretty pink bobby pin in your hand.

You’re twiddling it between your fingers when you notice Steve’s breathing falter. He clears his throat for a brief second, before resting his hand slightly over yours.

“May I?”

You nod and allow him his bobby pin back.

There's little you can do except try not to melt, quietly swooning as the older man you're perched on gazes at you like a muse. His touch is gentle, as if you're a marble bust—his fingers brushing away the shorter strands of your curtain bangs, savoring the dimples above your chin.

“There,” he grins. “Now I can see those pretty eyes.”

You and Steve find yourselves getting lost into conversation, well past Shy Girl's set, and most likely way past her friend's as well. He tells you about his life back home and you tell him about your final year of college. The gloominess of Seattle. Your excitement about being able to start a new life. And when you reach to give him back his bobby pin, he gestures it away.

"Consider it a gift. If I won't be seeing you again, I'd at least want you to be safe."

“Who’s to say you won’t see me again?”

"Well," Steve chuckles into you. "Maybe you'll find some other sucker to charm and you'll forget all about me."

Closing up the space between you two, you shuffle yourself closer in between his knees, rubbing yourself teasingly against his iron-pressed lap while he wraps his strong arms around you to keep you in place.

“Oh don’t be so silly,” you hum, softly tracing his stubble before clasping his beating chest. “You’ll definitely be seeing me around.”

"You trying to give me your phone number?" he cocks an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I mean... I was implying that you’d see me walking around The Strip. Vegas is pretty small,” you point out. “But if you’d like to stay connected, I’m not opposed to that either.”

Steve tongue dances in his cheek as he stares you up and down.

"Or who knows," you add. "Maybe you'll see me at an Adele show."

Steve cackles at this, receptive to the teasing you're giving him and reeling you in as a response.

“Well, Sweets, if that's the case, then I’d love to see you again before I go back.”

You two exchange phone numbers, close out your tab, and Steve is on his way. Turns out, he's also part of the In-Bed-By-9 crowd, but tonight was considered a splurge. When he disappears from sight, you set out to find Isabelle.

Luckily, her golden blonde locks are easy to spot in the crowd.

“There you are!" you exclaim when you find her, hooking arms with her as you two start towards the tip rail. "I met a guy while you were gone. His name is Steve, he’s a CEO.”

“Such a CEO name,” Isabelle tuts. “But that’s amazing. Is he older?”

You nod, blushing. Isabelle squeals, ecstatic for you.

“Ugh, older men are the bestttt, girl. Where is he now?”

“Rounding up his friends," your eyes scan the room. "I think they’re done for tonight. His friend was one of the dancers and she was wearing your Lady in Red set. She's from Indiana too, but I forgot where.”

“And I missed it?!" Isabelle exclaims, completely engaged now. "Now you HAVE to point them out to me.”

So now you two are on a mission, peddling through the strip club like two lost sheep looking for their herder. After five sweaty drunks and lots of assertive "excuse me"s later, you're able to catch sight of the guy just by the back of his head.

“That’s Steve," you immediately point him out. "Right over there."

“Oh my god,” is all Isabelle says.

You turn to Elle and it's like she's seen a ghost. Panicked, you watch the color drain from your best friend's face in real time, followed by a nearly audible gulp in a pulsating room and obnoxious strobe lights. And for a brief second, it seems like Elle had nearly lost her footing, with how her knees seemingly buckled below her.

“Elle…" you nudge her. "A-are you okay?”

"Yeah… I'm fine...it’s just…” she stammers. “That's Steve Harrington."

"You know Steve Harrington?"

"More than you know."

Suddenly, her gaze shifts when she studies his friends.

It’s a look you’ve never seen before in your life. At least not on Isabelle’s face.

Her once radiant ocean eyes, so full of warmth and sunshine, have turned icy and sharp, like shards of broken glass. A tension builds in her face as her jaw clenches. You look down at her hands and see that they're curled inwards, as though she'd been fighting to keep a brewing anger from the depths of her, relatively silent, fury from erupting. And then, before you know it her ocean eyes flare with an almost palpable heat. Danger. Fire, almost.

"And the guy next to him?" Isabelle grimaces. "The erratic one with the stripper around his arm?"

Isabelle's lips tighten bitterly.

"That's Eddie Munson... my ex-husband."

🏷️ taglist: @xblueriddlex @angietherose @winchester-angel @aactuaaltraash @hugdealer @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic @mediocredreams @bl0ssomanddie @corkadymu @eddiesguitarskills @mrsjellymunson @cadence73 @m-chmcl-rmnc @n-slayaaaaa @corrodedcoffincumslut @kennedy-brooke @micheledawn1975 @maisiepotatobeans @1deverland

[ghostchems]

sacred blasphemy - catholic priest!copia x f!oc

chapter one: blood!

in another world, copia has become a catholic priest after being drawn to it during his childhood in an orphanage. he is content with his life, finally feeling grounded and like he belongs -- until a new face in his flock captures his attention.

author’s note: this is the project i’ve been talking about for the past few weeks! eventual smut, my friends, but nothing too spicy here. this story came about because a lot of fic i’ve read and also written have the papas as the seducers, the ones who draw “innocent” people to join the satanic church with their charm and sexiness so i thought what if i did it the other way around. about 4k words. ao3 link!

The young boy stood motionless in the schoolyard, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest in a protective embrace. He remained there, a still figure amidst the bustling playground, his heart pounding with anticipation. Time seemed to slow as he waited, knowing full well what was coming but powerless to stop it.

Suddenly, the air was split by the unmistakable sound of rubber against skin. A dodgeball, thrown with cruel precision, struck the boy squarely in the face. The impact was immediate and intense, causing his nose to erupt with blood. As it trickled down his face, a strange sense of relief washed over him. The nuns, alerted by the commotion, rushed to his aid, their habits fluttering as they escorted him swiftly to the infirmary. Despite the pain and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the boy felt a small spark of triumph. His plan had worked – he had successfully escaped the dreaded dodgeball game, just as he had hoped.

He found solace in the quiet sanctuary of the infirmary. The gentle care he received there was a balm to his battered spirit. The nun tended to his injury with practiced hands and he felt a sense of peace wash over him. Seeking further comfort, he reached for the Bible that lay nearby. It really should have been his by now. He opened its well-worn pages. The ancient words spoke to him, offering wisdom and solace in equal measure. He immersed himself in the sacred text, allowing its timeless messages to soothe his troubled mind and provide a temporary escape from the harsh realities of his daily life.

Every trip to the infirmary ended with wondering when this would all be over. When he would be free of this place. The thought both terrified and excited him. The infirmary, with its antiseptic smell and quiet atmosphere, had become a strange sort of sanctuary. Here, at least, he was safe from the chaos of the playground and the cruel taunts of his fellow orphans. he'd always felt like an outsider, never quite fitting in anywhere. His appearance didn’t help. He was a gangly child, oddly proportioned child and his eye certainly didn’t make people want to be friends with him.

But he knew he couldn't stay here forever. Sooner or later, he would have to face the world outside these walls. He turned another page of the Bible, his eyes scanning the words without really reading them.

***

This has been a long time coming for the priest.

He surveyed the parking lot as members began to arrive for mass, a content smile on his face.

Copia's journey to this moment had been a long and winding one. The sense of displacement he felt as a child led him to seek solace in faith, eventually finding his calling in the priesthood. The path hadn't been easy - there were moments of doubt, struggle, and loneliness that echoed his childhood experiences. But now, standing before his congregation, he felt a sense of peace and belonging he'd long yearned for, a stark contrast to his rootless beginnings.

As more people filed into the church, some stopping to shake his hand, Copia reflected on how far he'd come. The hardships of his past had shaped and guided him here. He felt settled, grounded in a way he never had before. This small church, this community—it was home. Though it had taken some getting used to on their part. He was the strange priest with the ghostly white eye. The one who sometimes had dark circles around his eyes, rumored to be from any number of things. Definitely not your typical priest. His appearance had initially raised eyebrows and sparked whispers among the congregation. Some had even questioned whether he was fit to lead their church in the wake of beloved Father Acosta’s retirement. But Copia's genuine compassion and unwavering dedication to his flock had gradually won them over. Very gradually. Still, he couldn't help but notice the occasional curious glance or startled reaction from newcomers, though that wasn't very often.

He shook the thoughts off, focusing on the message he was about to deliver. Copia was excited to share his homily today, having worked on it for the last few days. The message he had prepared felt particularly poignant, addressing themes of acceptance and unity within the community, drawing inspiration from Ephesians 4:2-3: "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace." He hoped his words would resonate with the congregation and foster a sense of belonging for all members - a belonging that he would gladly provide after being deprived of it for so long in his own life. The irony wasn't lost on him; the outsider now creating a space of inclusion for others.

“Father Copia!”

Copia spun around at the sound of his name, a warm smile spreading across his face as he recognized the pair approaching him. Mark, a single father who had become a regular at the church, was gently guiding his daughter Maisie forward.

"Ah, good morning, Mark! And hello there, Maisie," Copia greeted them, his voice softening as he addressed the shy little girl. Maisie, usually hesitant to make eye contact, was clutching something in her small hands.

"Go on, sweetheart," Mark encouraged, giving her a gentle nudge. "Show Father Copia what you made."

With a deep breath, Maisie stepped forward and held out a piece of paper. Copia knelt down to her level, his mismatched eyes twinkling with curiosity. "What's this, little one?"

Maisie's voice was barely above a whisper. "I... I drew you, Father."

Copia carefully took the offered drawing, his heart swelling with emotion as he examined it. There in bright crayon strokes, was an unmistakable portrait of himself. Maisie had captured every detail - his black cassock, his graying brown hair, and most notably, his distinctive eyes. One was scribbled a deep green, while the other was left white.

"M-Maisie," Copia breathed, genuinely touched. "This is beautiful. Th-thank you so much." He looked up at the girl, who was now beaming with pride. "This is, ehm… this really is me."

Mark chuckled, resting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "She's been working on it all week. Wouldn't let me see it until it was finished."

Copia stood, still holding the drawing carefully, almost unable to tear his eyes away. “This is going straight to my office. I'll treasure it always, piccolina." The little girl's shy smile grew wider, and Copia felt a warmth spread through his chest. He was so touched by Maisie's gesture that he felt a lump forming in his throat. He tried to mask it with a cough, urging them to get to their pews. "Thank you again," he managed, his voice slightly rough. "Please, take your seats. We'll be starting soon." As Mark and Maisie moved away, Copia took a moment to compose himself, touched by the unexpected kindness. He carefully folded the picture and tucked it into his pocket.

The last few congregants entered the church with Copia watching, taking a deep breath to center himself. The moment had arrived. With a final glance at the sky—a calming ritual he'd long practiced—he turned and strode towards the entrance. His mind was already racing with anticipation. He could feel the weight of his responsibility, the trust his congregation had placed in him. As he stepped into the church, the familiar scent of incense and old wood enveloped him, grounding him in the present moment. Even so, the chasuble always felt heavy on his shoulders. It was green today — to represent the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. He let it drape over him, heavy yet calming. Copia took his place at the altar, ready to begin the service.

His eyes swept over the congregation. The familiar faces of his flock brought comfort, but a new presence caught his attention. A nun he hadn't seen before sat in one of the back pews, her head bowed in prayer. Something about her struck him as... different, though he couldn't quite place why. His gaze lingered on her as the words to his introduction fell effortlessly from his lips until a sudden, sharp pain flared behind his left eye — his white eye. The sensation was entirely new, a stinging that made him blink rapidly. Copia faltered for a moment, taken aback. He'd never experienced anything like it before, especially not during a mass.

He recovered quickly, his hands flying into motion as he continued his sermon. His fingers danced through the air, emphasizing key points with dramatic gestures. The congregation seemed to lean in, captivated by his animated delivery. His Italian heritage shone through in every sweeping motion and expressive flick of the wrist.

"And so, my dear brothers and sisters," Copia proclaimed, his hands spread wide, "we must remember that our faith is not just words, but actions." He brought his palms together. "It is in our deeds that we truly show our love for God and our fellow man." As he spoke, Copia found his natural rhythm, his earlier discomfort fading into the background. His hands continued to paint pictures in the air, bringing his message to life with each gesture.

Throughout the service, Copia found his gaze drawn back to the mysterious nun. Her posture, the way she held herself during the hymns, it all seemed slightly off-kilter for a woman of the cloth. He shook off the feeling, chiding himself for being distracted during mass. As a priest, his focus should be solely on the service and his congregation. Yet, there was something undeniably intriguing about this newcomer. Copia silently admonished himself, refocusing his attention on the sacred rituals at hand. He took a deep breath, centering himself in the familiar rhythms of the mass.

When it came time for communion, Copia's heart rate inexplicably quickened as the line of parishioners moved forward. The new nun approached and he felt an odd tension in the air. She raised her head, and their eyes met. Copia's breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue, almost luminous in the church's dim lighting.

"The body of Christ," Copia intoned, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.

"Amen," the nun replied, her voice a low, melodious whisper that sent an unexpected shiver down Copia's spine. To his surprise, she opened her mouth instead of raising her cupped hands as most parishioners did. He exhaled slowly, steeling himself, momentarily thrown by this deviation from the usual practice.

He placed the communion wafer on her tongue, his finger brushed it ever so slightly. A jolt of... something... passed between them, leaving Copia momentarily stunned. The nun's lips curled into the faintest of smiles as she turned away, leaving Copia almost shattered. Shaking himself mentally, he continued with the communion, but his thoughts kept drifting back to those piercing blue eyes and that enigmatic smile.

The last of the parishioners returned to their seats, Copia moved back to the altar, a place of safety for him. He carefully cleaned the sacred vessels, his movements deliberate and reverent. The familiar ritual helped to calm him, pushing away the lingering thoughts of the nun. He felt like he was in autopilot for the rest of Mass, not his favorite feeling in the world but he was at least able to get through it. He raised his hands, inviting the congregation to stand for the prayer after communion. “Let us pray," he intoned, his voice carrying through the church. He recited the prayer, asking for God's continued blessings and grace upon those who had received the Eucharist.

After the prayer, Copia shared his usual weekly announcements with the congregation. He reminded them about the upcoming parish potluck and called for volunteers for the food bank drive. The attentive parishioners responded with nods and murmurs of agreement. These community events and opportunities to give back were truly Copia's favorite aspects of his role—even more so than having an audience for his sermons. Such initiatives held a special place in his heart; after all, he'd benefited greatly from them during his own upbringing.

Finally, it was time for the Concluding Rite. Copia spread his arms wide, his voice warm as he spoke the familiar words: "The Lord be with you." The congregation responded in unison, "And with your spirit." He then gave the final blessing, making the sign of the cross over his flock. Mass drew to a close, members began filing out of their pews and Copia felt a mixture of relief and lingering unease. The service had gone well, despite the unexpected distraction. Yet as he watched the congregation file out, his eyes couldn't help but search for a glimpse of blue eyes and a nun's habit among the departing crowd.

He lingered in the pull for a moment longer then made his way into the crowd, exchanging warm greetings and engaging in light conversation. He found himself particularly drawn into a chat with Margot, a cherished elderly parishioner who never missed a Sunday service.

"Father Copia," Margot beamed, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "I can't wait for the potluck! I'm planning to bring my famous lemon tarts. Everyone always seems to enjoy them so."

Copia's face lit up at the mention of Margot's renowned dessert. "Ah, your lemon tarts are truly a blessing, Margot. I'm looking forward to them myself." He leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm thinking of making pasta for the event. I, eheh, got the new Martha Stewart cookbook and..."

Their pleasant exchange was interrupted by a gentle tap on Copia's shoulder. He turned to find Sister Laura, one of the regular nuns, standing beside the mysterious newcomer he had noticed earlier.

"Father," Sister Laura began, her voice warm but formal, "I'd like to introduce you to our newest member, Sister Veronica."

Copia's breath caught in his throat as his eyes met those striking blue ones once again. Sister Veronica offered a small, shy smile. He took her in, trying to be discreet. She was petite, with wisps of dark hair escaping from beneath her habit. Her posture seemed self-protective, arms wrapped around herself. Copia couldn't help but notice how her blue eyes sparkled with an inner light, a contrast against her pale skin. He quickly averted his gaze, reminding himself of his position and the impropriety of such thoughts.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Father Copia," Sister Veronica said, her voice carrying the same melodious quality he remembered from communion.

Copia reached out to shake her hand as he felt a familiar stirring within him - a temptation he had grappled with before. The touch of her hand sent a jolt through him, reminiscent of their earlier encounter during communion.

"Welcome to our parish, Sister Veronica," Copia managed, his voice steady the discomfort that warred inside him. "I hope you'll find a home here with us."

Sister Veronica's smile widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you, Father. I already feel welcomed." She glanced around the church, her gaze lingering on the ornate stained glass windows. "It's a beautiful parish you have here."

Copia nodded, his eyes following her gaze. "Indeed, we are blessed with such beauty. Perhaps… I could, eh, give you a tour sometime, show you some of the hidden treasures?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. Sister Veronica's eyes widened slightly, a hint of something unreadable flickering in their depths.

Sister Laura, sensing the tension, cleared her throat softly. "Father, perhaps you could tell Sister Veronica about our upcoming potluck? I'm sure she'd love to contribute."

Copia blinked, grateful for the interruption. "Ah, yes, of course," he replied, his voice a touch higher than usual. "We'd be delighted to have you join us, Sister Veronica. It's a wonderful opportunity to meet the congregation."

Sister Veronica nodded, her blue eyes sparkling with interest. "That sounds lovely, Father. Perhaps I could bring my grandmother's secret recipe for cannoli?" She glanced at Sister Laura, who nodded approvingly. Copia felt a flutter in his chest at the mention of the Italian dessert, one of his favorites.

"That's perfect, Sister Veronica," Copia said, his tone polite but brief. "I look forward to trying it." He nodded to both nuns. "If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. Sister Laura can help you with any other questions."

With that, Copia turned and walked briskly towards his office, his mind spinning with frantic thoughts of what he was feeling. In almost a blink of an eye, he had arrived, quickly seeking the solace. He leaned against the closed door, his heart racing. A panicked laugh escaped his lips, echoing in the silence of his office. "Why?" he whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Why do I feel this way?"

The image of Sister Veronica's piercing blue eyes flashed in his mind, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the thoughts. This wasn't right. He was a man of the cloth, dedicated to his faith and his congregation. These feelings... they were inappropriate, forbidden even.

Copia pushed himself away from the door and paced the small confines of his office. His hands fidgeted restlessly, a nervous habit he'd never quite shaken. "Get a hold of yourself," he muttered, his Italian accent thickening with his distress. He paused by his desk, his eyes falling on the worn Bible that always sat there. Guilt washed over him in waves. Copia sank into his chair, burying his face in his hands. He needed to pray, to seek guidance and strength. But for the first time in a long while, he felt off kilter.

Copia shook his head, trying to dismiss the worry. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper - Maisie’s drawing. A deep sigh fell from his lips.

This was why he had chosen this path. This was his purpose - to guide, to protect, to be a beacon of hope for those who needed it most. The innocence and trust reflected in that simple drawing grounded him, reminding him of his vows and responsibilities.

"I will stay the path," Copia whispered to himself, his resolve strengthening despite the lingering worry about his eye. With renewed determination, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head in prayer, seeking the guidance he so desperately needed - not just for his spiritual dilemma, but now also for this unexpected physical concern.

As Copia he began, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through his eye. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch the affected area. The world around him began to blur, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Panic rose in his chest as he struggled to make sense of the plan.

He felt a warm trickle from his nose. Copia lowered his hand, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the crimson stain on his fingers. Blood. He was bleeding. In a daze, he fumbled for a tissue, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. He pressed the cloth to his nose, his gaze fell upon the drawing in front of him. His entire body went rigid, a mix of anger and despair welling up inside. Droplets of blood had fallen onto the paper, marring the innocent crayon strokes with stark red splatters. Copia stared at the ruined drawing, his heart sinking. With trembling hands, he carefully folded the bloodstained paper and tucked it into his pocket.

More blood spilled from his nose, splattering on his desk. Panic ripped through him, his head feeling light and heart thundering in his chest. He stumbled to his feet, his vision still blurry, and rushed out of his office towards the restroom.

He collided with someone on the way because of course he did. Looking up, his heart skipped a beat as he recognized Sister Veronica's concerned face. The sight of her caused another surge of anxiety, and to his horror, he felt a fresh gush of blood from his nose.

"Father Copia!" Sister Veronica exclaimed, her blue eyes widening with alarm. "O-oh goodness! Here, let me help you."

He wanted to protest, to tell her he had it handled but the words refused to leave him. Sister Veronica gently guided him to a nearby alcove, away from prying eyes and he followed silently. She produced a clean handkerchief from her pocket and began to dab at the blood on his face with a tenderness that made Copia's heart race even faster.

"Tilt your head forward slightly," she instructed softly, her warm fingers on his chin sending an involuntary shiver through him. "It'll help stop the bleeding." Copia complied, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease at her proximity. The scent of her - a subtle mix of incense and something floral - filled his senses, making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

"Thank you, Sister," he managed to mumble, his voice muffled by the handkerchief. "I... I don't know what came over me."

Sister Veronica's eyes met his, filled with genuine concern. "It's alright, Father. These things happen. Just take deep breaths. Are you feeling any better?"

Copia nodded slightly, acutely aware of her gentle touch as she continued to tend to him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing and he was grateful. He took a deep breath and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The gentle care and the clean scent of the handkerchief transported him back to his childhood days in the infirmary. He remembered the kind nuns who had cared for him then, their soft hands and soothing voices a balm to his young, troubled soul. The memory brought a bittersweet ache to his chest.

"It's... it's been a rather strange day for me," Copia finally spoke up, his voice slightly shaky. He met Sister Veronica's concerned gaze, feeling a mix of vulnerability and unease. "I apologize for troubling you with this, Sister."

Sister Veronica's expression softened, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "There's no need to apologize, Father. We all have our difficult days. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Copia felt a warmth spread through his chest at her kindness, even as he struggled with the conflicting emotions her presence stirred within him. He shook his head slightly, careful not to dislodge the handkerchief. "Your assistance has, eh, been more than enough, Sister. Thank you." Copia gave a deep sigh. "I'll make sure this is spotless when I return it to you, Sister." He tugged at the handkerchief.

Sister Veronica shook her head gently, her blue eyes warm. "Please, keep it, Father. Consider it a small token of welcome to your parish."

"Thank you again, Sister," he whispered, raising his hand to hold the handkerchief to his nose. As their fingers brushed, Copia felt a familiar jolt course through him.

Sister Veronica's expression softened further. "I'm here if you need any assistance, Father. Please don't hesitate to ask." She lingered for perhaps a moment too long, then turned to leave, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

As Copia watched her retreating figure, he felt a twinge in his chest - a mixture of gratitude, confusion, and something else he dared not name. He took a deep breath, relieved to find that the blood flow had finally stopped.

Lowering the handkerchief, Copia leaned against the wall.

A strange day indeed.

[my-mt-heart]

Dissecting Zabel's Inappropriate Comments

I shared my initial reaction to the Games Radar article, but now that the original SFX article is also out, I want to dive a little deeper into what David Zabel said. From one source to another, the meaning doesn't change.

Regarding Daryl's and Carol's relationship, he says...

Whereas with Daryl and Isabelle, he insists...

Zabel thinks he's shedding light on his male hero's two most prominent relationships [with women], when in actuality he exposes a lot more about himself and what kind of showrunner he is.

He has no interest in the flagship show nor its acclaim.

Had he actually watched TWD in its entirety, tracked the progression of Daryl's and Carol's relationship from S1 to S11, and researched their fanbase as well as their media coverage from over the years instead of just pretending to, he'd see that nothing about their relationship is "obvious" or "easy." Trauma and self-esteem issues hardly ever explored in TV couples—let alone TV couples in their 50’s—have always complicated things, creating obstacles for them to take their relationship beyond intense feelings and helping them grow closer together, feel safer, understood, and loved to a degree nobody else can measure. There are 12 years and 11 seasons of sexual tension, smoldering looks, vulnerable moments, meaningful conversations, and romantic subtext at Zabel's disposal. The natural thing for him to do, the only thing that furthers the narrative already being told is to confirm that they're "in love" and make them "a couple."

If he wants to talk about a "TV book of tricks," he should re-evaluate the tricks he uses to justify a romantic connection between a well-established, unconventional, fiercely loyal man with intimacy issues and a blonde nun who’s only been around for a few months (and 6 episodes from an audience POV). Zabel tries to project what draws Daryl to Carol—broken until the world ended—onto Isabelle. He forces Daryl and Isabelle into intimate situations straight out of fanfiction—bathtubs, bed-sharing, cleaning wounds in hard-to-reach places—and uses other supporting characters like Losang to tell Daryl and the audience that it's romantic. That's not "seeing what happens," that's repeatedly trying to fit a square peg into a round hole and expecting everybody to think he's a genius. On the contrary...

He's completely tone deaf.

If he's calling Daryl's and Isabelle's relationship "mature," then he clearly doesn't realize how deeply problematic it is for a character to gaslight and lie to another character with a history of childhood abuse in order to get something from him, whether it's to help her find their new home or father a boy he just met. It's also triggering for fans who have survived abuse in their own lives to watch their hero fall back into the cycle without it being acknowledged or resolved in a way that helps him (and the fans) heal from it.

A dynamic between Daryl and a nun definitely could've been an "intriguing" dynamic to explore since they're both supposed to be emotionally unavailable. We'd get to see that Daryl's heart belongs to Carol and Isabelle is "married" to God. We'd get to see them bond over the idea of loving someone and/or something so infinitely and unconditionally that it's frightening to feel disconnected from them, whether physically or spiritually, and we'd get to see them help each other keep their faith, whatever that means to them. That's interesting. That's fresh. A romance between Daryl and a nun, regardless of whether or not she dresses like one, is not interesting. Not intriguing. Not edgy. Not sexy. It's disrespectful on multiple levels.

He calls Daryl and Carol coming back together only to realize that they've "changed" the more interesting story to tell? I call it sad. Sad and out of character for Daryl to feel anything other than elated to realize that the woman who represented everything good to him for over a decade crossed a damn ocean to find him. Sad that after "everything she's done" to find him, she finds that he's replaced her and their family back home.

He views the female perspective as irrelevant.

Saying he "respects" Caryl shippers only to invalidate them and then pour salt on the wound shows an air of superiority that is very typical of white male showrunners and executives. Granted, plenty of men ship Daryl and Carol, but it is also true that the majority of their fanbase is female and because of that, Zabel thinks he can mansplain the relationship to us. He tells us that what we want is cute, but he’s the one with the skillset to write a "good" story for the characters. He either doesn't care about our viewership because other men like him are his "real" audience or he assumes we'll come to our senses because he's right and we're wrong.

It isn't about shipping or romance at all though. If it was, he wouldn't just kill Isabelle off after insisting on this wild chemistry nobody sees but him (and Greg Nicotero). It isn't that Carol can't be a love interest either. It's about catering to the male gaze. Carol can't be the love interest for the white male hero that Zabel wants the fanboys to identify with and glorify. She doesn't fit their biases. Not young enough, not blonde enough, so on and so forth. Ignorance like that is generations-long and it doesn't just go away the more time he spends with Daryl and Carol. It only gets worse. Caryl may go to Spain alone, but there's plenty of new shipbait over there for him to introduce.

In what Zabel is actually quoted as saying about romance, which is all that counts, he only vaguely brings up a conversation with Norman, one I suspect is a lot more nuanced than he wants us to believe, but that's beside the point. He doesn't say "Melissa and I talked about Caryl's relationship" or "Clemence and I talked about Daryl's and Isabelle's relationship." Why not? Would the former disapprove of being treated like a sexless intruder in her "friend's" nuclear family? Would the latter hate to feel like a plot device for the brooding hero's manpain? What do the women have to say about their side of this oh so "interesting" emotional arc, Zabel? It's a rhetorical question obviously because if I really wanted to ask, I'd ask the women directly. The only thing is, they aren’t allowed to talk about it so openly and honestly, are they, Zabel? And you took advantage of that, right?

He's vindictive.

He may treat us like a bug on his windshield, but he isn't unaware that Caryl/McReedus have an active fanbase. He isn't unaware that AMC's promo strategy has centered on Caryl/McReedus. He's competing with it. He's aggressive in these articles because he wants to tell a particular kind of story that AMC, plus all of us unhinged shippers, won't let him. Taking a firm stance is how he takes control again (or so he thinks). The way he positions Carol as an intruder in "Daryl's" story, despite a sorry attempt to put a band-aid on it later, also presents itself in the SDCC trailer where everything, including Carol, has to revolve around the main hook: Daryl making a new family in France. For Zabel, it's true to life because he had to fit unconventional Melissa into his outdated "interesting" formula when that wasn’t what he was hired to do. To paraphrase what Melissa said, she was the newcomer who had to be careful not to disrupt a system already put in place before she arrived. What, or who, made her feel that way when she had already been playing Carol for over a decade?

To watch or not to watch

That is not the question. You can choose not to give AMC your money for Zabel's bullshit or you can choose to help the ratings go up for Melissa/Carol. Both are the right choice. The real question is, how will AMC know to blame Zabel and not Melissa if the ratings drop? How will they know that Carylers still need canon and...wait for it...good storytelling if they watched just to remind them how valuable Melissa is to the franchise? I know I sound like a broken record here, but this is why it's so important to be vocal. Use whatever platform you have (and are comfortable with) to specify what's bothering you whether it's the shipbaiting or Daryl's suspenders. Say what you love (Melissa is the correct answer) and what you want more of or what you want to change in regards to performances, relationships, and storylines. For me, I wanted to see both Daryl and Carol make every effort to get back to each other. I wanted to get the payoff I've been waiting for after a god-awful S11 that kept them separated and angry at each other the whole time. I wanted the story to center on Daryl's and Carol's relationship while everything else revolved around them. "To find home is to find each other." Where did that story go? I want it back.

No matter what we say, egomaniacs like David Zabel, Greg Nicotero, and Scott Gimple will spit on us, punch us in the gut, and kick us while we're down (though I guess only the first one is stupid enough to be so literal). If Zabel understood the first thing about Carol or Caryl, then maybe he would've realized that their fans know how to push back.

As for AMC, they don't care about the characters or the relationship or our feelings either, but they do care about their bottom line and these articles threaten that. Keep reminding them.

[jinxhallows]

kinktober #oo8 | the doctor is in

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows the doctor is in (medical play) || chan x fem!reader summary: you and chan have been together for a while and decide to explore something more outside the box in regards to intimacy. he's always thought your former job as a nurse was fascinating, and the idea of a hot nurse was always a sexy concept to him; but now, its chan's turn to play doctor, and he’s done his research in full, and takes to his role a little too well… warnings: medical play, and all that entails, without revealing too much - including medical instruments, gynecological based scenes, description/plot heavy, I purposefully saved this for the 8th entry because it’s kinky on the border of off putting to some folx, I wanted you to be familiar with how far I push limits in my work by digesting the previous entries first, if you do not like it, skip it, established relationship, 'good girl' and 'good girl' adjacent pet names, non-idol AU

word count: 3.7k masterlist - click here

"Do you remember when we talked about trying out that doctor roleplay?" you inquire, gently setting the cardboard box on the table. The solid thud of its weight makes Chan wince. Leaning across the table, you give him a quick kiss.

As you pull back, Chan opens his eyes and asks, "Yeah? Why do you bring it up now? What's on your mind?"

"I've decided to bring some work home this time."

You begin unpacking the supplies, starting with a box of syringes with securely attached needles. Then, you reveal a pack of sterilized hemostats, along with packs of gauze, bandages, catheters (both IV and urinary), and various other medical instruments. While these items are familiar to you from your former career as a nurse, Chan has never encountered such materials outside of a doctor's office, and some of them are entirely new to him.

But Chan does remember the vivid conversation you had, especially after your last check-up when you excitedly shared your detailed ideas.

It was something he had never heard of at the time—medical play?

-

"So, basically like...playing doctor?" Chan leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

"Kind of. But this time, I want to make it more immersive, by actually using real supplies," you explain. Your eyes briefly drift to his veiny forearm and back to his eyes, but you're not subtle enough, and he catches your glance, lowering his arms.

"I remember now," he says, his face lighting up with a humorous recollection as he continues, "Back when you first started in the Emergency, you kept saying you wanted to draw my blood, claiming I'd be an easy poke."

You're about to offer a retort, but he stops you with a raised finger, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips as he starts laughing at the thought. After a moment, he takes a breath, turning somewhat serious.

"If we do this, I get to go first."

You're relieved at his enthusiasm. It's certainly an unusual request, but by now, Chan is well-acquainted with your eccentricities.

"What do you mean? As the patient or the doctor?"

"The Doctor, of course," Chan says, slowly turning in his chair. He forms an imaginary TV screen with his hands in front of his face. "Yeah, I can see it now." The chair completes its 360-degree turn, bringing him back to face you as he concludes,

"Dr. Bang will see you now."

-

As you meticulously unpack the box, your boyfriend's hand reaches over, picking up a container of 25g needles, and he studies it with intense curiosity. His leg bounces nervously beneath the table.

"On a scale of one to a serious medical emergency, how likely are we to kill each other tonight?" he quips, his eyes lifting from the box, a dubious brow raised in question.

"As long as we steer clear of sharps to start with, we’ll be alright."

“We’ll be alright,” Chan scoffs with a laugh. He cracks a grin as he opens the box between his hands and extracts one of the capped needles, spinning it between his fingers. With a swift, deft 'crack,' he twists it open and removes the cap, revealing the sharp, fine needle underneath. He gives it another once-over before turning his gaze back to you. He's pondering deeper now, his eyes tracing down to the sliver of skin peeking out from your silk robe, stopping at the upper thigh.

"I don't even wanna know how you got a'hold of all of this."

Chan caps the needle and carefully sets it back down on the table. He recognizes that admitting a desire like this was a vulnerable thing for you, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious himself ever since you first had mentioned it.  One night, when you were out, he threw the term you taught him into a porn site—medical play—and watched, wide eyed and bricked up from all the scenes he began to discover.

You trust him, you've said, to handle your body with care. You couldn't imagine letting anyone other than Chan partake in this experiment, and once he gets past the initial discomfort of potentially messing up, you're certain he'll take excellent care of you.

Because that's just Chan's nature.

"Well then, shall we?" He rises from his seat, wrapping a reassuring arm around your waist beneath your robe, pulling your body close to his. Your naked skin brushes against the fabric of his clothes as he plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "I need to change first. Can you give me a few minutes?"

You respond with a light, airy snort.  “You’re gonna change your clothes?  You’re really dedicated, huh?”

"I mean, personally, I wouldn't want a doctor in boardies, a singlet, and thongs anywhere near me with a scalpel. Wouldn't be very professional now, would it?" Chan says as he heads towards the bottom of the stairs, kicking off his house shoes. The sound of his bare footsteps fades as he ascends the stairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

You nibble on the inside of your lower lip, feeling a touch of nervousness. You expected more resistance from him, but not only is he going along with it, it seems like he's enjoying the idea.

You pack everything back into the box and hurry upstairs to the bedroom. You grab a folding table from storage and unfold it, providing a surface for the tools of the trade for tonight. One by one, you lay out the supplies. Both of you are uncertain about what this experience will be like, or if you'll even enjoy it, so you've gathered a variety of items. Feeling apprehensive about making incisions? Opt for a needle. If you're new to poking, avoid breaking the skin and use a blunt medical tool instead. If things get a little too intense, there are bandages, staplers, and skin glue to the rescue. There are so many options here; surely, there's something that Chan will feel comfortable using.

As you arrange the table neatly, you can't help but imagine the sensual sensation of each item against your skin. You set everything up for easy access, lost in your thoughts, when you suddenly hear the door creak open behind you.

You turn around to find your very own Christopher Bang standing there, fastening his watch.  The sleeves of his white collared shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing firehose veins that run up his arms like the roots of a sturdy tree. It makes you wish you were the one in charge tonight.

The thought of drawing blood from him is undeniably enticing.

Chan, dressed impeccably in a white button-down tucked into dark pants, fits the part perfectly. The desire to clear the table and let him have his way with you right there and then crosses your mind.

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath.

He chuckles. "Maybe later, but for now, have a seat for me?" He taps the edge of the bed and settles into the office chair that used to belong at his computer desk, now strategically positioned next to your makeshift doctor's examination bed. Chan busies himself with the satisfying snap of pulling on his gloves, casting his eyes over the array of instruments spread out on the table. He inspects each object before swiveling the chair to face you, a confident smile gracing his features. His gloved hands dangle between his legs, fingers intertwined.

"So, Y/N, I'm Dr. Bang, and I'm the doctor on call tonight.”  He lifts his wrist to glance at his watch before his eyes meet yours again, “It's pretty late, though. Care to tell me what's going on?"

His act is so convincing that you blink twice, half-expecting him to break character at any moment, dissolve into laughter, and physically cringe. But Chan smoothly glides closer, planting both hands on your knees. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight, yeah? You still up for this?” He checks in with you, and his sincerity reassures you that he's the right person to explore this with.

“Of course, I just didn’t expect you to take it so seriously.”

“You trust me, and I take that very seriously.”  He runs his hands up and down the silky expanse of your thighs, his smile revealing a tiny dimple. "Go ahead and lie back for me." He rises as you recline onto the bed, and he attentively adjusts your robe, ensuring your modesty. Chan gently tugs the fabric closed over your body, all the while looking down at you with genuine affection. "Not a fan of doctor's visits, are you? You seemed nervous earlier, but are you experiencing any discomfort right now?" He starts applying gentle pressure around the perimeter of your abdomen. His touch feels eerily authentic, causing you to briefly forget this is a role-play scenario.

"I am," you confess, observing him as he focuses on the area just below your navel. A sharp sensation shoots through you, making you gasp involuntarily, a sound that surprises both of you. Chan momentarily halts, clearly caught off guard, before reestablishing eye contact with you. "Did that hurt?" He presses again, and you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling your reaction.

"Hey," Chan tenderly grasps your wrist, guiding your hand away from your mouth, "I'm not a vet. I need my patients to use their words, so I can provide the best care."

"It's right below where you pressed, Doctor; it just...it's uncomfortable right now, like–an ache. It’s hard to explain.” you say, barely managing to articulate in a roleplay appropriate way that you're getting hornier by the second and can swear your pussy has its own heartbeat at this point.

"Below, like... here?" Chan's gloved right hand moves an inch lower, hovering right above your soft, puffy pubis. He's teasing, and his mischievous grin gives it away.

"Lower," you reply with a sultry undertone, encouraging his exploration.

Chan's fingers press against your warmth, causing your hips to rise against his touch. He immediately stops and wheels himself backward to a nearby table laden with an array of medical equipment. You lift your head, peering over your chest to see what he's up to. Sensing your curious eyes on him, he looks over at you, his hand resting on a packaged instrument that remains elusive from your vantage point on the bed.

A chuckle escapes his lips. This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Well, now he's getting into the role-play more than he expected. The clinical setting, the pristine, sterile instruments, and your presence in that beautiful black silk robe, waiting with bated breath and those wide, enchanting eyes – it all triggers a surge of power in Chan that he didn't anticipate. Not like this, at least.

"So, when did you first notice the pain?"

“When you came in the fucking room.”

Chan laughs softly. "You're not very good at this," he remarks, picking up a stethoscope and draping it around his neck. "Let's start with some basics since you're a bit anxious. I'll ease you into it."

His tone conveys an underlying promise, and you watch as he leans over your body, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of your robe, the cool stethoscope head making contact with your skin. As soon as you feel the gloved fingers on your body, you sense your nipples hardening against the silk fabric. Chan notices too as he listens, although he's uncertain what he's searching for, his brow furrowed as he shifts the stethoscope over slightly, catching the rapid increase in your heartbeat.

He likes being able to hear the effect he has on you.

Chan removes the stethoscope from his ears, placing it around his neck again. "You've got a strong ticker!" he remarks with a smile, closing your robe as professionally as a real doctor. "Now, open up for me,"

You blink at him, an immediate desire to spread your legs rising within you, but you obediently open your mouth instead as he places a thermometer underneath your tongue. You hold it firmly in place.

"Good girl. Keep this up, and I might reward you with a lollipop later." The thermometer beeps, and he removes it, sitting back down in his chair and rolling over to the table. "Ninety-nine point six, perfect. See? Nothing to be afraid of." He picks up a nearby pen and scribbles something down on a notepad, then proceeds to examine the various instruments, silently evaluating each one.

What was he going to do to you? Was he going to poke you with a needle? Give you an enema?  You’d give anything to be inside of his brain right now and know what he’s plotting.

“Chris—“

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts, raising a finger into the air, still deciding his next move.

You stop yourself, close your eyes, and take a deep breath.

"Dr. Bang," you say, emphasizing his title with respect.

"Hmm?" He responds, much more content with the formal address than his first name.

"What exactly... are you planning to do to me today?"

To your dismay, he spins around toward you, holding a chosen instrument—a metal speculum. Out of all things? Does he even know how to work it? 

You swallow hard, the thought of him meddling with your insides making you squirm internally. But you play your part. You're in an examination.

“I'm here to make you feel better; it's my job. I'll need to take a good look inside to determine why you’re in so much discomfort.”

You watch and wait for him to ask you how to open the sterilized package. Instead, he deftly peels it open from the top and holds the speculum over a green surgical drape on a nearby metal tray with a muffled clang, tossing the packaging aside. He can sense your disbelief in your expression as he looks back up at you.

"How did you-"

"Yeah, so you know how people say your phones are always listening to you?" Chan slides his chair back until he's positioned right between your legs, and the sheer confidence in his movement reminds you of the residents you've assisted on numerous occasions. It's undeniably turning you on.

"Yeah?" you reply.

"Well, ever since we first discussed it, my algorithm's gone haywire," he says, shaking his head with a sigh, his elbow resting on his thigh. "It takes a truly special person to do this kind of work." He taps the edge of the bed as he speaks, and you shift up so your hips rest on the edge, your legs hanging off.

"That being said," Chan hooks his arms underneath your legs' crooks, lifting them up so your feet lie flat on the bed, spread open. Your robe is far from sufficient to keep you from being exposed. The swiftness of his motion sends a breeze across your most intimate area, letting you know just how aroused he's gotten you with minimal contact. You can hear the click of the lid on the lube as he coats his fingers.  

“You'll feel my fingers first, and then a little cold and some pressure, alright?"

His voice is soothing, and you exhale, saying, "Alright," your hands folded on your stomach.

"Take a deep breath for me," You feel his fingers first, just as he promised. Two gloved digits slide inside you, and your gasp is nearly reflexive as you clench around them when he curls them upwards, caressing that special spot. "That's it, keep breathing, relax," he instructs.

As he guides you into a state of calm with his slow and soothing words, you notice the change in temperature and texture as the cool metal speculum slides gently into you, not all the way, slowly stretching against your pulsing walls. Here you are, in your own bedroom, with Chan talking you through it, his palm resting on your inner thigh. His eyes switch between your glistening core and your furrowed brows, and your slow panting. He’s waiting for you to fold, to tell him to stop, that this is too much. But you don’t.

Chan secures the device in place, creating an opening that's not too wide but still provides him with better access than he's ever had before. And you're willingly letting it happen.

He checks in on you, discreetly adjusting the front of his pants to make room for the tent he was pitching. "How are you feeling?"

"It feels different than it usually does," you remark, your tummy fluttering with a chuckle, dispelling any lingering tension.

"Yeah? Different in what way?" His hand vanishes between your thighs as he slides his fingers back inside you, and this time, he stands over you, studying your reactions while his other hand moves beneath your navel.

"I mean, usually I don't expect my doctor to—" You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses both inside you and firmly on top of you simultaneously. 

At that moment, Chan decides that he absolutely loves this.

"What was that?" he asks, as if that moment hadn’t happened.

"I usually don't expect my doctors to... well, you know," you say.

God, you were such a freak.

Did he turn you on that much? That you’d let him do this to you? Does he have that much of a hold on you?

“This is where it hurts?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He really doesn’t need you to say it.  He knows you want him to rail you, as if your expressons aren’t enough; he can feel your walls yearning to close around something, anything, so desperately.

The anticipation of what it would feel like to remove the speculum and have your tightness engulf him as it shrinks back sends a shiver down his spine.

He tugs at the crotch of his pants again.

"How about when I do this?" He starts a gentle but confident massage of your abdomen, and your hips slowly begin to rotate, pleading for more pressure.  You can’t move much, the device forcing your movements to remain minute, lest it become uncomfortable.

"Feels–" you curl your fingers into the sheets, the pressure from the speculum inside you battling with your natural urge to clench around nothing, stealing your breath.

Chan captures your lips with his own. "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you nod, feeling his hand slipping between your legs again, accompanied by the sounds of his belt buckle being undone as he kisses you once more, both of you breathless.  This must’ve been turning him on too, and now, you can hear it and feel it in the stiff, swollen head of his cock leaking against the warmth of your inner thigh as he disengages the metal spacer, it feels far warmer than it did going in, and you sigh as it leaves your body, but before you can register the emptiness left behind, Chan’s warm, girth  replaces the foreign object, and you both groan in tandem with the feeling.

“Fuck, babe,” He breathes at the sensation.  Your pussy is so hungry for him, the way you swallow him up is unholy.  And as he pulls his hips back and snaps them into you again, he’s certain you’ve never been this wet before, ever.

“Oh god, finally,” Your eyes roll back into your head, knees pushed back, your robe now fully splayed open, with the most perfect visuals of your tits, Chan leans forward and you wrap your legs around his waist, “I think I figured out what’s wrong,” he whispers, the ends of his stethoscope dangling onto your bare skin, “Want me to make you feel better baby?” He begins thrusting into you, “Is that why it was hurting? Hm? Because you needed me to fill you up?”

“Yeah, yeah I did—needed you–so bad–doctor, god I–fuck Chan I–love you–I-”

You don’t even make any sense and you resort to a breathless laugh as your teeth chatter with a sharp inhale.

“Aw, my babygirl, you’re a mess.  It’s worse than I thought.” Chan chuckles and has to pause to regain his composure. Pulling the stethoscope off, he tosses it aside and lifts the hem of his dress shirt, holding it between his teeth as he thrusts into you, now able to watch how you paint his cock with your juices every time he disappears inside of you. His lower abs flex and contract with each stroke, while muffled, elongated groans escape through clenched teeth. His palm presses down on that spot beneath your tummy again, and he feels your body clenching under his touch as he thrusts even deeper, he wants to feel himself inside of you, each movement of your hips daring him to split you in half entirely.

Your vision becomes hazy, and you struggle to concentrate beneath drooping eyelids, on the verge of being overwhelmed by sensations. You move your mouth, but words won't form, only heavy sighs and gasps provoked by his every move as if you were his puppet. If you could form coherent thoughts, you'd be thanking him for reminding your lungs to breathe, enabling you to catch your breath at all.

Now, you're climaxing, and it takes him by surprise. A choked, guttural groan escapes his throat as the wet end of his shirt falls from between his teeth, thin streams of drool trickling down his chin as he climaxes just moments after yours. The release leaves him feeling lightheaded, and he catches himself on his elbow, breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against yours. Your eyes are closed as you try to catch your own breath.

Chan's stamina surpasses yours, and his heavy breathing turns into soft laughter as he places his palm against your cheek. You laugh along with him; it's hard not to when Chan's laughing. It serves as a release that sends chills and butterflies through your stomach, having experienced something so exhilarating together.

Your fingers curl around his palm against your cheek as your eyes crinkle. "You've definitely done this before."

Chan sits next to you on the bed.  “I haven’t, promise,” “Hm.  You may have a future in theatre then.” “Think so? Maybe I can get famous and quit my shitty job.” He laughs leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Since you’re the one with the medical background, I wouldn’t be against you poking me next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh yeah. You’ve got all those supplies.  I’m just getting started.”

- fin

[guywrestlingaddiction]

Everything Great About a Match: Jason Aleqsander v Freddy Campbell (bgeast.com)

Everything Great About this Match: +5

Jason Aleqsander v Freddy Campbell (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

So let's begin:  +1: For Jason, the guy is hot no doubt. but throughout the match we are treated with that long lean body of his taking everything Freddy throws his way.  Jason may be on his way to being what I like to think of as a "Trophy jobber" inline with the likes of Troy Baker and Richie Douglas.  

The camera loves the guy and watching that sexy body of his all slicked with sweat or getting close enough to see him glow in the light is worth a point.  

+1: For the back and forth between these two.  Freddy's come a long way since we saw him in this very wrestle shack against say, the likes ofMason Brooks.  Back then Freddy was shy and a sponge for punishment, but not anymore.  Jason on the other hand can dish it out as well, the guy keeps up with Freddy and makes him pay for every grunt and groan. 

+1: For the Crossbody slam/press.  Not enough gay wrestling matches do this as far as I'm concerned and I can't get enough of Freddy slamming his larger frame into a helpless Jason or Jason using all of his momentum and diving off into an inert Freddy.  

+1: For Jason taking all that punishment and fighting on.  Wrestlers just can't help but trash something beautiful and so it is that Jason's mid-section, his abs, those pecs, are continually pounded.  Freddy might be a nice guy in all his other wrestling matches but there is something about Jason that brings the animal out of him.  

+1: Double Knockout.  It does take some imagination to make this work but I love that these two men struggle to hold on and outlast each other.  You can see that no matter how much Jason is dominated - by getting the life squeezed out of his pecs, to being chocked out within a seconds of losing consciousness; Jason is not going down easy and in the end he takes Freddy down with him.

Jason: I ... I submit. The wise thing to do would be for Freddy to take the win but instead the guy goes a little too far...

------- Everything Great About this Match: +5

So there you have it. This is a solid match with Jason coming into his own as a gay wrestler.  Jason endures everything thrown his way and Freddy, the normally 'nice' wrestler really turning up that heel energy when's around Jason's irresistibly sexy body.  So much so that instead of taking the win, he fights to a draw, just so that he can punish that sexy body for just a little longer.  I mean can you blame him?  Jason is just too damn hot to handle and Freddy gets royally burned by it in the end. 

[sassykinzonline]

sometimes its actually alarming HOW uncritically the naruto fandom looks at the text like because something isnt "shown" in canon/on-screen (it usually is, but just implicitly) people think it means it couldnt have happened and therefore making sweeping statements about the character like "theyre just weak" or "they make no sense"

as usual im going to focus on naruto (😌) heres an example but it applies to many others (itachi, gaara, neji, hinata,...me)

here are some things we know about naruto:

he is inexplicably talented at taijutsu despite having no mentor

he created sexy jutsu for attention from older men (he craves a father figure)

he is rather repulsed by affection aside from certain people

he relies on shadow clones to outnumber his enemies and protect him from damage, as well as acting like diversions (he only later on seems to learn to use them practically as well, and he doesnt use them as an actual team iirc)

he represses his memories and life severely if they cause him distress or negative emotion, and when he doesnt do that it causes him to lose complete control of himself in anger

some of these things are basic signs of a child who has been abused in multiple ways (particularly verbally, physically, and sexually), but also just logically how is it possible that naruto became proficient at taijutsu when he didnt train with anyone and had no teacher to correct him? why would it be important to naruto to have, what are essentially, human shields? why does naruto freely tolerate physical abuse he receives while others openly complain about it? why would that lead to naruto eventually wanting to defend/protect everyone in tandom with ANOTHER orphan who feels the same? why would WE not be able to have a clear directly depicted answer to this as a reader?

idk to me personally there are a lot of things people say are "headcanons" are just things they logically put together based on subtext, and theres a reason why a vast majority of people who read the same text come to the same conclusion. it seems like this is a lot less common in manga form (i dont read manga so i wouldnt know, i understand different mediums have different communication norms but some things are just literary basics), so its the first time ive encountered this "why does everyone believe in [some idea not said in plain english]? it's never said anywhere!" logic...it doesnt need to be. there are certain clues and patterns youre supposed to be able to draw conclusions for based on common life experiences (archetypes/universal symbols).

if you can do these above steps and come to a conclusion, and a plurality of people come to the same conclusion, it was probably intentional on the author's part. if the author explicitly states its not intentional, then sure, but that doesnt take away from how/why the story is impactful because the author may not even realize theyre doing it. an easy example i can think of is tsunade's fear of blood, where its meant to symbolize death, but in her case also ends up symbolizing love wrt her relationships with naruto and jiraiya. and thanks to blood gaining this symbolism through tsunade, when you see uchiha tears of blood, you instantly make those same connections. then you think back to gaara screaming about having never seen his blood (coming from his forehead where that tattoo of his is......), then the eventual resolution of that being an inversion of the symbolism the manga establishes when he battles his father during the war.

more than anything though i find it kind of concerning that adults sit around laughing at obviously what is meant to be traumatic. as if there arent people in your life who sit around with these same experiences and signs, with something they havent told you about because theyre afraid youll laugh at them.

[bbkissme99]

Sukuna x reader

Welcome to the Neighborhood: you move in next door and sukuna, the single dad living next door, notices

SERIES: Dorm mate! Sukuna

Uncle Sukuna:

Hot Tatted Uncles (Uncle!SukunaAu X Teacher!Reader)

disease ridden (not) — ft. ryomen sukuna

— i love u, uncle!sukuna <3

high school au:

HIGH SCHOOL!SUKUNA x F!READER Bad Boy Sukuna

A better way to enjoy chocolate.

𝐌𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥🥀 || 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

college au:

college!sukuna x afab reader

ᰔ pairings… basketball captain!sukuna ryomen x student council president!reader series

College AU Sukuna

Sukuna is a lovesick mess who fucks things up on the first try because being open about his feelings is really not his strength but then makes up for it again.

Who would have thought that resident bad boy Sukuna would become your personal angel?

Roommate Sukuna

Yuji's older brother Sukuna

Gamer boyfie Kuna headcanons

Valentines day shenanigans

HATE THAT I LOVE YOU || mean!sukuna ryomen x fem!reader

Frat boy Sukuna

Yujis older brother au

bestfriendsbrother!Sukuna x pregnant!reader one-shot

Maki and Nobara were shooketh when they find out your relationship with someone's brother.

pining for his ripped older brother

ating your best friend’s sexy, “mysterious” older brother.

They kiss on the ring. I carry the crown.

criminal:

The boy in art gangster!Sukuna x reader

deadly attraction

Older brother sukuna and his younger brother yuuji who he begrudgingly takes care of by doing some shady shit.

ex prisoner sukuna

𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴

Mafia Boss Sukuna

Yakuza Husband ch4

Boyfriiiiiend

brushing away a strand of hair, cupping their face with both hands

modern boyfie Sukuna

oddly specific relationship hcs for sukuna (modern au)

Home from work. (Husband!Sukuna x fem!reader)

Established relationship, Nice!Sukuna

On halloween night with boyfriend Sukuna

boyfriend Sukuna who…

heavily tattooed boyfie

Maybe I Like you, Maybe I Don't

domestic au Sukuna headcanons

dating

Sukuna as your boyfriend [Soft Sukuna]

random sukuna boyfriend headcanons

Jujutsu Teacher Sukuna AU

Husband!Sukuna headcanons/drabbles

FIRST NIGHT

after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo

Boyfie Sukuna in your bed in the morning

ᴍʏ ᴛʏᴘᴇ 🤭

Your First Time on Sukuna's Bike

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya pt. lll

Other au's

witch and knight au

Tribe leader/Viking Sukuna headcanons

youtuber Sukuna

husband sukuna x sorcerer reader

protective Sukuna after their sorcerer has been wounded

Sukunas Hand Mouth:

SUKUNA AND ITADORI ARE SHARING A S/O

Mouth

sukuna’s hand mouth expect its reader’s hand

being sukuna’s vessel

Being Sukuna's vessel isn't easy. Even less so if he's decided to take advantage of it - to his great pleasure and your humiliation.

being sukuna's vessel and having literally no choice but to let him play with your body

Sukuna having a female vessel, and sprouting different mouths to tease her

PUTTING HIS HAND UNDER YOUR SKIRT