#day 6: boogie

[decoy-sammy]

WaveWave Week Day 6: 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦

*𝘓𝘌𝘛'𝘚 𝘎𝘙𝘖𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘛𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛. 𝘍𝘐𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘖𝘍 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌𝘌*

After SoundWave's insistance Shockwave agreed.. Yeah, they had some alone time and danced~ :>

Poor Screamer, he had no idea.

[x-heesy]

𝚄𝚞𝚞𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑: 6𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚣 🎧

Refrain 1]

You're good, good, good

Good

You're good, good, good

You're good

[Chorus 1]

Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me

Somethin' tells me you can read my mind

Somethin' tells me, somethin' tells me

Somethin' tells me you can read my mind @dakota-283 💃🏽 🪩 🕺🏼

Good by Morphine

https://genius.com/Morphine-good-lyrics

[chamm0y]

wavewave week day 6: boogie

i had a vision (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ᴥ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ⁠ʋ⁠) one of these days im gonna learn how to properly animate and i will make them dance

like alright they might not dance to cumbia but a woman can dream okay?

[msdoodlesposts]

Happy Valentine day!

Mrs Rich!Player x DogDay!Rich! (And friends ) AU

—

“Richie” you muttered as you turned over and reached over for your fluffy partner.

Only to hear a lightly squeak. You sat up and looked down having accidentally hitted the small Bobby Bearhug doll who looked up at you, annoyed at being squish.

“What the-“ you started and lifted up the blankets only to find the rest of the Critter gang snuggling against her legs and , no wonder you felt warm.

“Ok-no you guys know the rules no surprise cuddles” you said shaking your legs to get them away and you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, you reach for your clock only to find it gone and your blink before turning your head to the 6 smiling critters looking at you as they sat on the bed.

“Ok which of you little brats ate my alarm clock? I’m looking at you pig” you said looking at PickyPig who burp a bit which cause the Clock inside the ring a bit.

You took in a deep breath still trying to figure out why you let Rich and Theo convince you to bring these 6 back home.

You open your drawer and got out your wristwatch and blink seeing it was almost 9. You had your alarm normally set for 6 to get started on your day.

You got up and looked over at the plushies still on your bed and made a shooing motion “go, go find your leader” you spoke you didn’t say which one exactly though.

You went to the bathroom to get your morning started and was more confuse when you came back out and the dolls were still there.

Usually by more they would be off looking for one if the larger critters…unless someone told them to stay in the room.

You were proven right when you tried to head out only to get tackle back.

For tiny things they were stronger together.

“Don’t make me get the lighter!” You threaten and that was enough to cause them to back up.

You sat up and frown seeing their sad faces, you didn’t like useing threats but sometimes it was needed.

You stood up, making sure they weren’t going to try and tackle you again before heading out, you heard them fallow right behind you.

You walked threw the formally two story home (formally since you had the second floor and attic removed to make room for your taller friends and husband).

You step to the side as a boogie bot rolled by fallowed by a Cat-Bee chasing after it.

You waved hi to Kissy and Catnap who were watching cartoons on a tv set to their eye height and you headed to the kitchen. You stop and sniff.

Smelling pancakes and eggs and…donuts?

You moved more quicker since you made it clear none of the toys were allowed near the stove for safety reasons.

You came in and clear your throat upon seeing poppy on the counter. Her dress covered by a homemade pink apron.

She was useing her body to carry a spatula with a pancake over to a plate of them.

“What did I say about useing the kitchen” you spoke as you came over and turn the stove off.

“Don’t worry Angel she was just helping me” a voice spoke.

You sigh softly and turned around and look up at your 15 feet tall husband.

“Wanted to get your little surprise ready”

You rose a brow confuse “surprise?” You asked.

You heard poppy clear her throat and use the spatial to point at the calander.

You froze.

“Wait-our anniversary” you slap your forehead mentally yelling at yourself. You took today off and had completely forgotten about it.

“I-I’m sorry” you began gently taking your husband paw and pressed it to your cheek lightly.

You been working later nights the past month due to some employees quitting.

You been so busy that you had forgotten about it.

Rich kneeled down and gently pressed his head against yours in a form of a forehead kiss.

“It’s alright Angel, we’re not doing anything special, just giving you the breakfast I promise you” he said softly.

You took in a deep breath trying not to break down in tears.

“And donuts” You chuckled looking over at the box surprised that Randy’s donuts was still in buisness “how you even get these?” You asked as you pulled one out and threw it down the hall letting the little critters chase after it, you grabbed another one took a bite of it.

“They expanded a lot and due deliveries now, had to argue with the guy about how I couldn’t come out and grab the box and to just leave it on the porch” Rich grumbled a bit before pulling a chair out for you.

You smiled happily and another bite out of your donut.

Might have took 13 years but you finally celebrated your first wedding anniversary.

And got your donuts

[highvern]

Teach Me III

gold star

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: cream pie, unprotected sex, cowgirl, squirting, inexperience!dk, experienced!reader, mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , oral (f. receiving), cum swallowing, spitting, fingering, making out, strength kink bc he's hot, minor overstim at the end but he's just enthusiastic, fwb, DK is a munch pt 2

Length: ~4.1k

Note: finally done! I’ve been working so much and this has been like the boogie man lmao part 4 is outlined so it'll probably be another week or two? lemme know what y'all think!!

read more here

[Thursday 10:26AM]

Lee Sock-mint: Did you get your exam back yet 👀👀👀

You: yep

You: you?

Lee Sock-mint: Yep

You: what’d you get

Lee Sock-mint: What’d YOU get

You: i asked first

Lee Sock-mint: Well I asked second

Lee Sock-mint: I got an A tho

You: HOLY SHIT

You: twinsies ♥️

Lee Sock-mint: HELL YEAHHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥

-

That Night Approx. 8:27PM, Dokyeom’s bedroom

“Ohhh—-just like that!”

Obscene echoes of your sopping pussy fill the room as Dokyeom stuffs you with two long fingers, curling them upward searching for the spot he found a few days ago that had you crying. Bent between your spread legs, he’s praying at the altar of your body; tongue tracing along the inside of your thigh where it lays over his shoulder, biting a bruise into the delicate flesh. The hand not gloved in your cunt squeezes the plush flesh of your opposite leg, using the leverage to spread you out. A choked moan from your body bends your back as you attempt to suffocate him in your thighs.

In the few weeks you’ve been hooking up, Dokyeom has proven to be nothing less than a model student.

Even your first “tutoring session” had been incredibly fruitful. After you sucked out his soul through his dick, he spent an hour learning the ins and outs of your pussy. 

The next few times Dokyeom begged you to show him exactly what you liked; quickly acclimating to him staring at your folds while you touched yourself, making yourself come before giving him time to mimic and perfect his technique. Once he gained enough confidence to start experimenting on his own, his progress soared beyond your expectations.

Despite earning the right to brag, he didn’t; still sheepish around the entire arrangement. But even with his shy demeanor, you knew he was incredibly happy with himself due to the one piece of evidence he allowed to exist. On his phone, hidden in a secret locked notes app, Dokyeom recorded his best times like a leader board.

From fingers: 10.33 

From mouth: 7.57

From DK Jr. : 15.23 missionary, 11.57 doggy, 9.48 on top

The first time he showed you, you almost smothered him with his own pillow. The fact he was timing your hookups striking a cord in your gut that you couldn’t name; along with the knowledge that he refers to his dick as DK Jr.. But he managed to sooth your irritation with sheepish smiles and flattering praises.

Since then you’ve begun to find it endearing, especially when he shows you the other note that has all the things he wants to try with you. Positions, places, activities; tiny check markets dotting across the list they’re knocked out one by one. Your favorite so far was his desire to fuck you with other people nearby; fulfilled by Dokyeom pulling you into a cramped bathroom at another on one of his frat parties, flipping up your skirt and pushing aside your panties as he bent you over the sink to stretch you full of his cock. It was a testament of your will power to be quiet enough that no one from the party heard how good he gave it to you; aided by the same fingers currently in your cunt being shoved in your mouth to quiet your moans.

But tonight you’re pulling from your own perverted bucket list. As his reward for doing so well on the exam, you’re planning to let him fuck you raw; the vision of him spilling inside your cunt making you vibrate with excitement. 

Nothing like a little positive reinforcement for the both of you.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles against your folds, entranced by how you squeeze around his fingers.

Dokyeom doesn’t know what you have planned yet, simply agreeing to your request for a post-study session hookup; but, imagining the look on his face after he finds out makes you gush against his tongue.

“Need more,” you whine, nails raking against his scalp as your hips roll against his mouth.

His fingers pick up their tempo as his mouth latches to your nub. Unlike the first time, he gently sucks it between his lips, focusing on allowing the tip of his tongue to coax against the bundle nerves.

“Don’t stop,” you sob, flailing on the mattress. “please! Gonna cum—“

Eyes crossing at the scorching slide of Dokyeom’s tongue against your clit, his hand pushes deeper before spreading his fingers apart. He finally catches the spongy patch of flash he’s been searching for, curling the tips of his middle finger against it rapidly.

“Fuck— I’m gonna, I–” you choke words catching in your throat as you snap.

Dokyeom doesn’t stop, doesn’t alter a thing except for opening his eyes to watch you come alive above him. His absolute favorite part of your frequent hookups is watching you; the way can’t hide how much you like this; how much you like him doing this. 

Head dipped forward to your chest, eyes sealed shut, brow pinched tight, nose wrinkled, and jaw dropped in a long ‘O’ as you sing your pleasure. It’s permanently etched into the back of his eyelids since the first time he witnessed it but he never tires of watching it happen in real time. On the rare occasion he’s alone and you’re busy, it’s all he needs to think about to get himself off with record speed.

Dokyeom really really really loves making you come. 

And after the semester you’ve had, he revels in the fact he can take your mind off everything; if only for a little while. You work harder than anyone he knows, balancing academics, extracurriculars, a social life, and a million other things. The admiration he feels deep in his chest, suspiciously close to his heart, drives him to pamper you. 

And tonight, courtesy of your high marks, he plans to have you come till tears run down your face. 

When your tremors subside, he licks a fat strip up your slit, tongue flat and firm before focusing on your clit once again as he sinks a third finger into your cunt.

“Minnie please!” you beg, the breathless crack of your voice an empty plea he can’t find himself caring about.

A swat against the meat of your thigh is his only warning for you to hold still, “You can take one more.”

“Too much.” 

“Come on pretty girl, give me another. You deserve it.” Dokyeom replaces his mouth with his hand, fingers rubbing harshly at the raised nub as he pins you with a look. Your hips buck once again as he spits on his fingers curling into you, adding to the vulgar mess.

“I can’t!”

“Yes. You. Can.” each word punctuated with a drive of his fingers, coaxing more of your essence out of your leaking hole, coating his hand and dripping down his wrist to the sheets.

The gleam in Dokyeom’s eyes when he’s like this is unlike the usual persona he embodies. Demanding and expectant, because of course you’ll come for him again. Why wouldn’t you? He happily gives you exactly what you need to keep wallowing in mind numbing pleasure for as long as you like. Who are you to say no to such generosity?

“Oh fuck, fuck, I’m—”

Your hands nearly rip the bed spread underneath you, feet kicking out as your eyes squeeze tight against the fireworks erupting across the darkness. It's unlike any orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Stomach tightening, a thin sheen of sweat breaks along your exposed skin. Squeezing around the repeated press of his hand, a renewed gush of arousal coats his fingers. Everything is hotter. Wetter. 

The spray of liquid against mouth shocks him for a moment, but as Dokyeom realizes what he’s done he turns feral.

“Holy shit.” he whines, lapping up everything you’re giving him, tongue wild and desperate. His own hips rock into the bed, curling his cock against the friction of his boxer in search of relief. You're both soaked, your essence and his spit dripping from his chin to his chest as he drools into the mess. Dokyeom planned to give you a breather after you came again but now nothing exists outside of your wrecked pussy and the smear of your arousal coating his face.

Nose scrunched against the over stimulation, tears sting your eyes. Sobbing for him to give you a moment, a second, to collect your thoughts. You're floating, barely tethered to the bed where his digits curl. But Dokyeom doesn’t listen. Tongue splitting your folds, tracing around his fingers still plunged inside your pussy.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you give a firm tug to disconnect him from your worn cunt. Despite the shortcircuiting pleasure still flooding your veins, the vision of your fuck buddy, pink tongue licking his lips, chin dripping and eyes hooded, awakes a hunger deep in your soul.

“My turn.” you growl.

Pulling him up your body, you waste no time connecting your lips. The heady taste of yourself infiltrates your mouth as you pant into his mouth, but you don’t mind as you continue to tease, the erotic slide of muscle against muscle consuming your focus.

Without disconnecting your lips, you push him until his back meets the sheets; pinning him in place once his boxers are gone, settling over his thighs. Urgently collaring his stiff length in your hand, the rigid velvet sits hot and heavy, head flushed and damp. You skim the tip through your folds, collecting the combination of juices, his own pre-cum adding to the mix before spreading it down his shaft. You gasp into Dokyeom’s mouth when the puffy head grazes your clit, giving a firm squeeze before letting go. Allowing it to slap against his belly before planting yourself on top, grinding against the underside of his cock; the red tip visible at the top of your folds, pearly beads of his cum dripping onto his abdomen with each desperate lerch.

“Oh fuck—” he whimpers.

Propped on his elbows, all Dokyeom can do is watch the hand you’d been using to play with him move to your mouth, sucking your dripping fingers into your mouth, moaning at the taste. He pulls you by the back of your neck to his mouth, echoing your whimper as he tastes the erotic mix himself. Your hips continue to grind against him, tilting yourself forward to force the tip of his cock to snare against the ring of muscle at your entrance. Barely an inch enters you before Dokyeom curls his hips away, smacked in the face by the realization of what you’re about to do.

He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, mouth parted around stuttered breaths. An expectant look greets him, hunger flashing like lightning in your eyes. Dokyeom swallows thickly, mouthwatering at the very real chance of seeing your cunt coated in his seed. Filled to the brim, leaking down your thighs.

The fantasy is short lived as a rush of fear zips down his spine. He’s about to fuck you raw. In his favorite position. After you squirted on his face. If he can last more than a few strokes it’ll be a miracle. 

Never able to hide his emotions, you catch the worry clouding his face, eclipsing the lust present seconds ago.

“You okay?” you breath, pausing to give him a reprieve.

“Great.”

“Minnie…”

“s fine.” He mumbles words under his breath.

You dodge his attempt at reconnecting your lips, refusing to let him distract you from whatever popped into his head. Shuffling back, you move further down his thighs and away from his crotch. You don’t understand the sudden shift in his demeanor but going any further seems like a mistake. 

Dokyeom’s shoulders meet the bed as his elbows give out. Staring at the tiles of the ceiling, he tries to find the right words to tell you what he’s thinking. Shame thickens his throat like wet sand, preventing him from speaking but you just wait above him patiently. The comforting sensation of your fingers gently tracing the back of his hand gives him focus.

Closing his eyes, Dokyeom steels himself with a breath.

“Just need a second.” He whispers.

“Okay,” you whisper back. 

Only the humming fan in the corner fills the silence between you. Dokyeom knows you’re watching him, cataloging every twitch of his lips and fully bellied breath. The skin of your thigh is soft under his palm, the warmth calming his nerves as he gently traces shapes into the dip above your knee with the pads of his fingers. The gentle press of your lips on his cheekbone startles him before your nose brushes against his own. 

“What’s going on up there?” You gently ask, one of your fingers brushing his temple.

Eyes fluttering open, he’s met with the endless depths of your as you lean back a few inches to meet his gaze. The fondness softening your face reminds him that of all people, you’re the last that would laugh at him about this. You’ve literally seen him at his lowest, yet look what came out of that? If there’s one person he can be honest with, it's you.

“Might come.” Dokyeom sighs, looking at you with nervous eyes.

You’re dumbfounded. Utterly, and truly shocked. He just made you come twice, and he’s anxious that getting some satisfaction himself will somehow disappoint you. You want to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation but you know your first hookup is still a sore subject for him. 

Ducking back down to leave a reassuring peck on his lips, you grin at him. 

“That’s okay. Take all the time you need.” Leaning back up you see the embarrassment still clouding his features, racking your brain for a way to cut the tension. “I’ll just keep myself occupied.”

Dokyeom’s eyes flash at your words, curious at their meaning. Pushing up on your knees, one of your hands moves back to the apex of your thighs. You don’t grab for his cock still nudging you; instead, you collect the sticky mess smeared between your legs, middle finger dipping inside just a hair before coming back to your clit. Teasing gentle circles around it, your breath grows uneven, hips stuttering forward in search of more.

Shit.

Dokyeom is lost in a daze; licking his lips as you touch yourself, eyes glued to the digits swiping across your cunt. He’s still heavy and hard, the flared head of his cock glistening from its brief plunge in your depths. You can’t take your eyes off it, nearly drooling from desire to have him split you open.

“Fuck.” you whine, wishing the calloused pads of his fingers were working you instead. Ever since your little arrangement started, your fingers have become a distant second to his slender ones.

Your show isn’t helping stave the rising orgasm building in Dokyeom’s core. The exact opposite really, fanning the flame to a near inferno. The sight of you getting off, the sounds of your soaking cunt, the taste still on his tongue, the feel of you dripping on his muscular thighs. Even the smell of sex permeates through his tiny bedroom, clogging his nose like a musky perfume.

Fuck it. He thinks. If he blows his load before making you come again he’ll just have to make it up to you. How awful. 

Dokyeom’s hand brushes yours away, thumbing your clit as two fingers stretch to prod your entrance again. If he can work you up enough before he’s inside you he’ll at least have a fighting chance. 

“Wanna feel you inside me, Minnie.” You demand, using both hands to squeeze your breast. Dokyeom pants at the sight of your nipples peeking out between your fingers, bruised from his teeth.

Maybe you’re playing it up for his ego but you've truly never been so desperate. Greedy for pleasure even with the orgasms he’s already coaxed out of you, and on the horizon is the promise of a third. Being so close to getting railed the way you need but just out of reach is sending your mind into a tailspin. To make matters worse, Dokyeom seems just as eager to give it to you.

“Yeah? Want me to stuff you with my cum?”

“Yes! Need it.”

Shuffling back into Dokyeom’s lap, you sink down onto his cock in one motion, pushing the air from your lungs as he threatens to tear you in half. The burn from his girth races up your spine to add to the mind numbing sensations consuming you.

Tangling his arms behind you back, Dokyeom plants his feet on the bed to fuck up into you at a brutal pace. He’d never complain about fucking you with a condom but with out one? The silky stretch of your pussy, sweltering and soaked, is the closest to heaven Dokyeom’s ever been. Every squeeze around him pulls him in further, the head of his cock fitting snugly against your walls.

Your own hands find wobbly purchase beside his head, your chest aligns perfectly with his mouth to suck and lick against your breasts. Desperate pleas rushing to fill join the mess of noises rising from your bodies. 

Your essence coats his cock, dripping down his balls as the clap of skin echoes in the room. Each thrust forces another whimper from your throat, the vulgar thought of your cunt dripping with evidence of him racing you to another orgasm. 

“Gonna cum,” Dokyeom groans beneath you. The rasp of his voice sends your hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Please! Want it—” you bawl. “Want your cum.”

His head lulls back as you beg, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides to lock you in place. His thighs burn from exertion but he keeps going, the familiar twitch in his gut telling him to go deeper, harder. Something primal whispering in his brain to brand you with his seed, mark you as his. The way you clench around him adding to the call.

“Fuck, just like that.” You keen when he thumbs your worn clit. His other hand wraps in your hair, pulling to bare your neck for his mouth. 

You feel the twitch of his cock deep inside you, and he gives you a few more thrusts before painting your insides. The sharp sting of teeth ripping the wind out of your lungs, pulling you down with him.

Using his chest for leverage, you lean back and ride him through it, reveling in satisfying fullness. Dokyeom’s eyes fall to your tits, pressed alluringly between your arms and swaying with each bounce on his sputtering length.

Gasping in each other's arms, Dokyeom keeps curling into you till he’s spent. Cracking open his eyes to take in the bliss painting your face before sneaking a peak to where you’re connected. A ring of white coats his length where he enters you, trickling down to the smattering of curly hair at his base. His cock gives a pathetic twitch of interest but that's all it manages with how hard he just came.

Collapsing onto his chest, you nuzzle against his neck. “That was…” 

Great, wonderful, spectacular, best orgasm he’s ever had in his life. But no word seems to fit exactly how Dokyeom is feeling right now. When he finally can feel his body again, wraps his arms around you to keep you firmly planted against his chest, one hand moving to scratch your back soothingly. When you clench around him, Dokyeom realizes he’s still inside, softening length allowing a flood of cum to trickle out.

“Are you staying tonight?”

“Nah,” you roll off him to stretch, letting the satisfaction only a good fuck can bring settle in your muscles. “Gotta be up early.”

“I can walk you home.” He offers over his shoulder, shuffling to his closet to dress for the night.

“It’s only like nine, I’ll make it home just fine.”

“My mom would kill me if she found out I let you walk alone this late.”

Rolling to your stomach, you watch him pull on a hoodie. “Wow so it's not even you being considerate, just wanna hypothetically save your own skin.”

“I’d be worried too.”

“Fine, but at least put on some real pants.”

“What's wrong with my pants?”

The pointed look at the flannel Simpson pajama pants says it all.

“Fine.”

In true Seokmin fashion, the next five minutes are spent huffing and puffing as he digs for a suitable pair of sweatpants to wear for the short walk to your dorm. You receive several pointed looks and a final “hmph!” as he finds a pair he deems worthy. At least he makes good use of his theater classes.

“Alright, let's go!”

The walk to your dorm zigzags through the busiest parts of campus, and as such despite the late hour, you and Doekyeom run into friend after friend. Most are headed off campus to take part in thirsty Thursdays at the bars just blocks away. A few scampering home from the library, surrendering to the exhaustion that comes post-midterms. 

Of course, Dokyeom’s roommate is in the mix.

“Hey! What are you guys doing out?” Soonyoung’s question is innocent but the way he yells it across the courtyard you're currently passing through snags the attention of a few other students.

“Just walking her home.”

“How sweet.” The older man coos. “By the way, what’d you get on the practical?”

“One hundred.”

“No shit!” Soonyoung high fives you. “So did Dokyeom. Wait…are you guys going to celebrate?”

The wiggle of Soonyoung’s eyebrows make him look like he’s having a stroke.

“We already did.” You smirk as Dokyeom gapes like a fish, red as a tomato. 

All you can do is shrug. It's crazy the same man next to you was drilling your guts less than an hour ago, but the proof is still pooled in your panties.

“Anyway! What are you doing out?” Dokyeom asks, eager for a subject change.

“Didn’t do too hot but the TA said I can get half credit back if I do test corrections.”

“Ahh. So it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that the girl you have a crush on has a shift in the tutoring labs on Thursdays?”

“You told her?” Soonyoung turns on Dokyeom, eyes wide.

“You told me, idiot.” You cut in.

“Oh! Well maybe that's part of the reason but Minhyuk said he’ll only give me till Monday morning so it's a happy coincidence.”

“Well good luck!” You call, taking a step in the direction of the dorms.

Soonyoung calls you back before your foot hits the sidewalk. 

“Oh, by the way, are you coming to the cabin with us next week? We’re trying to figure out cars right now and need a headcount.”

“What cabin?”

“It's SBT’s mountain weekend!” He announces before turning to DK. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Ugh,” the still blushing man chokes.

“Well, this is awkward.” Soonyoung winces, slowly backing away.  “I’ll see you guys later.” 

Discomfort swirls around you and Dokyeom as you return to your original path. You’d spent enough time around frats to know they spent a weekend at some old cabin deep in the mountains each fall, drinking and smoking in excess. Traditionally, its invite only, a plus one for each fraternity brother. An upperclassman in MX, Jooheon, had brought you to his own your freshman year. The shiny allure of spending a weekend with a hot guy quickly dulled by the reality of fifty plus people cramming into a shoddy building to fuck and get drunk wasn’t as fun as it sounded on paper. To this day, you still can’t get the horrible wails of the girl Minhyuk had brought. It's why Soonyoung and DK attend the lecture he TA’d at a normal hour and you braved the horrors of an eight AM.

It shouldn’t matter that Dokyeom hadn’t asked you, or how he didn’t even bother to mention it in passing. The relationship between you is nothing more than two acquaintances who hook up. Frequently. At its core, you’re his friend who occasionally tutors him in anatomy. Why would he ask you to stay with him for a weekend? Why would you be upset if he didn’t?

And yet…

“I completely forgot it was even happening.” Dokyeom shares quietly.

“It’s really fine!”

“I mean if you wanted, you could come with?”

“Already have plans. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” 

Fortunately the awkward conversation is cut short as you approach the lobby of your dorm. You’ve never been happier to see the tacky green walls beyond the glass door lined with old campus flyers. 

“Thanks for walking with me.”

Dokyeom looks like he wants to say more but before he can speak you’re turning around and marching inside. You don’t catch the way he stares at your retreating figure, only leaving the way he came once you're firmly out of sight.

[restinslices]

Ahhhh after some thought I’ll choose the earthrealm men with a lovey dovey s/o 👉🏻👈🏻

back to requests a mere 6 days after saying I was gonna take a break. Was that post a little unnecessary? Yes, but I didn’t want anyone to get mad at me for not posting everyday and not getting to requests immediately. ANYWAY, back like the flu.

Johnny Cage

Johnny “Loves Attention” Cage is having the best time 

Do y'all remember how much of a cornball this man was in the game? He has no shame 

So a significant other who also has no shame? He's getting on one knee as soon as possible 

He tries to out cornball you 

He loves it all. The stupid nicknames, the cuddling, the gifts, the giggling, all the adoration, he's just in love

Definitely returns the favor. If you buy him smth, he's buying you smth (let's ignore that debt), you give him a nickname so he gives you one. It goes on and on

All this lovey dovey shit might exhaust some people. Johnny is not some people. 

The nicknames are probably his favorite part. He makes the most atrocious nicknames up because you won't be upset 

Some real dumb shit like Oogy Boogy Sweetie Weetie Cutie Patootie Kissy Face- yeah all that shit is one nickname. Why? Because it's funny to him and you'll laugh 

The type to get y'all dumbass matching shirts 

“If found return to stupid” “I'm stupid” 

Those type of shirts 

Everyone hates you because it becomes a competition of who can be the most corny. It's tortuous for anyone near you 

Cannot express enough how much this man enjoys the attention you give him. If one day you decided to ignore him as a joke, he'd actually be so sad and notice immediately 

He just adores having a corny lovey dovey partner. The best thing to happen to him. 

Kenshi Takahashi 

He doesn't hate it but he definitely needs a breather sometimes 

Having a lovey dovey partner isn't terrible to him. All the touching and nicknames and being spoiled is definitely cute to him, but being lovey dovey also means you're on him a lot. Kenshi doesn't give me huge extrovert vibes so I think because you're so extreme(?) that there's times when he needs a break 

He thinks it's adorable though. He likes feeling wanted so he likes how outwardly you are with your love 

Idk if he likes all the nicknames though. I can see him easily cringing if you go overboard 

Idk how he'd feel about you spoiling him. He doesn't hate it but he feels like everytime you give him a gift, he has to give you one and he ain't got that shit on him. His own thoughts are running him dry 

When his social battery is recharged I think he'd like how physical and sweet you are

He enjoys how loved you make him feel. He's just not sure how to respond sometimes. I can see you saying something really corny and although he thinks it's cute, his brain doesn't move fast enough and he ends up just staring at you 

He rolls his eyes a lot too so it can give the appearance that he's annoyed by you but it's definitely not that 

You want some corny shit he'll definitely like? Matching jewelry. He'll eat it up like it's a cookie 

Also draw over his tattoos. He loves it 

Loves the corny shit his brain just legit shuts off sometimes 

Kung Lao

Like Johnny, he enjoys the attention 

Idk if he necessarily enjoys all the corny things. I don't get a strong feeling from him. Maybe it depends on the day 

Likes the attention and spoiling but all the corny nicknames and shirts and just being a total sap makes him a little uncomfortable at times 

Once again, it depends on the day. Sometimes he's all for it and sometimes he's like “let's calm down for today”

Gets you a matching hat but without all the sharp shit because he doesn't trust you with sharp objects 

He's a mix of Johnny and Kenshi tbh

He refuses to wear those corny matching shirts. You'll have to kill him 

That applies to other things too

Those corny nicknames Johnny would make up? He'd prefer a beating from a serious Spiderman 

“Aw my Snookie Wookie-” “I'm gonna shoot myself right here right now. Please stop”

It's cute and he acknowledges that it's how you show love but certain things just ain't gonna work with him

Especially in public certain things just won't work with him because he has an ego and thinks certain things will make him look weird. It's giving insecure teen 

Don't doubt his love for you though. He loves his little sap. Just take it a bit slow 

At some point a switch would flip and he'd go from being embarrassed to thinking “wow, I'm so great my partner is willing to look silly in front of others!”

Now he feeds into your corny bullshit

A win is a win

Raiden

I fully believe him and Liu Kang are romantics, therefore he loves it 

He gets flustered easily so tons of affection makes his face go red and all that cute shit 

His brain also short circuits like Kenshi's. He's so bad at pretending he's not flustered 

“Are you blushing?” “...” “...” “...” “Raiden?” “Of course not”

Likes the consistent physical contact 

Spoiling him also makes him short circuit. He's trying to think of how to thank you but all that comes out is “oh!”

Adores you just as much as you adore him 

He likes gift giving. And idk mean just jewelry, I mean “you got me all these gifts so I'm gonna bring you a bunch of produce and hey, maybe we can cook later”

We saw him collecting cabbages like Cabbage Man from ATLA in the beginning of the game, he gotta still have the hook up

Loves receiving cheek kisses 

Man is so weak in the knees. Kung Lao can yell “STAND UP!” all he wants. That shit is not happening 

Play with his hair. Once again, weak in the knees 

He's having a great time. Sure he's easily embarrassed but it's not like “omg, you're being weird. Stop”. It's more of a “I love this but I feel like everyone's looking”

You two are super lovey dovey but not as obnoxious as you and Johnny. Johnny is like “you can't out corny me” and Raiden is just tryna vibe and love on you since you love on him 

All the embarrassment he feels is so worth it to him 

Liu Kang

A romantic so all that lovey dovey shit? Heaven to him 

Liu Kang has so much love to give and he's never allowed to share it because his life is ass in every timeline 

So a partner that adores him and shows him how much they adore him? Did the Elder Gods hand craft you for him?

He's honestly a mix of everyone. He wants to love you all the time like Johnny, he loves how much you love him like Kenshi, he loves how much you outwardly adore him like Kung Lao and he's a huge romantic that loves how much time you spend together like Raiden

He's so love deprived so he loves everything you wanna do 

Matching shirts, jewelry, socks, whatever the fuck? Absolutely. 

Spoiling him with random shit? He'll take it all

Telling him how much you love him all the time? Yes. 

Giving him the dumbest and corniest nicknames? He'll take that too 

He's also lovey dovey so the feeling is very much mutual 

Enjoys quality time so you wanting to be on his hip is very much welcomed 

You're a breath of fresh air since you're so kind and loving to him. Remember he has all the memories of the past timeline, then this timeline gets fucked up. He's used to constant smoke and destruction so someone being so nice and sweet to him and relaxing with him is heavenly to him

Doesn't matter how corny it is. It's all he wants 

Real quick, two things. Firstly I wanna make more MK1 intros so y’all should give me ideas. Secondly I think it would be fun if we as a unit made an MK1 oc. I’d make polls, you’d vote on certain things and then we use the same results but tinker it to our individual liking. For example maybe we know they’re Edenian but their gender is up to you. It’d be like a bunch of variants. A Multiverse of Madness if you will.

[rahuratna]

ღ Rahu ღ 36 ღ JJK, MHA, Naruto ღ Rahuratna | Archive of Our Own about me: she/her | fanfic writer | science fiction enthusiast

current fandoms writing for: JJK, MHA

ღ Jujutsu Kaisen Series

• He Whose Arrows are Flowers (NEW SERIES!)

Genre: Mystery, Investigative, Romance, Slow Burn, Eventual smut/erotic content Summary: Nanami x Curse Analyst Reader.

As a curse analyst, your work is a routine cycle that takes you between laboratory and crime scene. That is, until you are assigned to work a case alongside sorcerer Nanami Kento.

Links: Ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Nanami Kento: Relationship headcanons

Genre: Romance, angst, humor, fluff Summary: Nanami x Reader headcanons (now a fic). Includes slow burn, pining, romance, establishing relationships, an introvert reader.

Links: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 ღ on tumblr

• The Transformation of Nanami Kento (complete!)

Genre: Crack, humor, fluff Summary: An encounter with a rogue curse user leaves Nanami transformed into Pompompurin! It's now up to the first-year trio, with some help from Nanami-pom, to gain back his original form.

Links: ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch6 | ch 7 | ch 8 | ch 9 ღ on tumblr

• The Good Ship Percimeran

Genre: Action, fantasy AU, mystery, adventure Summary: While away investigating the magical anomalies that are increasing in frequency across the land, Gojo's three students, Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara, are tasked with testing his new spirit-repelling device on board a ship. The voyage takes a dangerous turn, however, and the truth behind the spirit swarms may not be an easy one to swallow. {One-shot] [Part 1 of JJK: Winds of Change]

Links: ch 1 ღ on ao3

• Red Earth, Dark Rain

Genre: Fantasy AU, mystery, suspense Summary: Wild spirits once roamed free in this land. Hanami survived many ages in the isolated forest, alongside the volcanic spirit Jogo, until a mysterious traveller pays a visit and turns their world upside down ... [one-shot] [Part 2 of JJK: Winds of Change]

Links: ch 1 ღ on ao3

• Ikemen Kaisen

Cross posted!

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery, adventure. Summary: A cursed spirit develops a massive crush on the 7:3 sorcerer while he's on a mission. Trapping him in its unique otome game domain, the spirit soon discovers that it's bitten off a lot more than it can chew with this particular jujutsu sorcerer ...

Links: ch 1 | ch 2 ღ on tumblr

• He's got the look

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery. Summary: A regular visit to the hair stylist takes a strange turn when Gojo is involved ...

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• JJK: Encounters across the animeverse

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery. Summary: The characters of JJK have close encounters with the other kind when strange portals appear within their universe ... crossovers, featuring characters from other anime appearing briefly in JJK.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Geriatric Kaisen

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, suspense. Summary: Megumi returns from a day out to find that the inhabitants of Jujutsu Tech have undergone a strange transformation ...

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• This Fearless Shadow

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, action, mystery. Summary: Kusakabe x Illusionist Reader. Loosely based on the film 'Bajirao Mastani', a gift fic for the wonderful @jjk-eugie

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Boogie till we drop

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack, mystery. Summary: Nanami and Ijichi are called in to handle an investigative mission requested by an unexpected client. The mission takes a strange turn when they learn that they're expected to assist in ... writing erotic fiction.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Queen of Thorns

Genre: Action, adventure, mystery. Summary: In the remote reaches of a Siberian peninsula, Kurosawa Akito, student of the legendary Nobara Kugisaki, learns a fundamental truth about his sensei's strength.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

ღ Jujutsu Kaisen Stand-Alone fics

• To you, young sorcerer

Genre: Fluff, humour Summary: Papamin fic written for Father's Day! Nobara suffers with cramps and feelings of inadequacy, and Nanami offers some advice, affirmation and hot tea.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Suited up

Genre: Fluff, humour, action, angst Summary: Another Papamin fic! Ino attempts to present himself just like the sorcerer he admires the most, with some ... regrettable consequences.

Links: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Get that bread, sir!

Genre: Fluff, humour, crack Summary: Written for the Foodies and Goodies challenge, created by the amazing @tsukimefuku ! Ijichi goes to get Nanami lunch, an excursion that turns into a fast-paced battle for a pork cutlet sandwich!

Link: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• The in-between

Genre: Fluff, humour, angst Summary: Megumi needs silence and to be away from it all, at times. Yuuji and Nobara will always be waiting in the wings for when he is ready to join them again.

A short, fluffy one-shot for the first year trio.

Link: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Thirst Trap

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack. Summary: Ino and Yuuji unwittingly make Nanami IG-famous through a social media post. As the internet's thirst ramps up, Nanami remedies the situation by roping in the two young sorcerers once again.

Link: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Love Thine Enemy

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack. Summary: The JJK sorcerers find themselves faced with a slippery customer - a cursed spirit with the worst pick-up lines imaginable ...

Link: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

• Good morning, Handsome

Genre: Humour, fluff, crack. Summary: A JJK short. Gojo sends increasingly annoying 'good morning' texts and Nanami gets his revenge.

Link: ch 1 ღ on tumblr

ღ MHA Series

• The Feast at your Table (Fat Gum x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Smut.

CW: Explicit Sexual content Summary: Attempting to hide your infatuation with the kindest and warmest of heroes is no easy feat when you work directly for him. Especially when you find that the hero in question, Taishirou Toyomitsu, may just reciprocate those feelings in the best of ways ...

Links: ch1 | ch 2 ღ on tumblr

Thanks to @tsukimefuku for creating this beautiful masterlist post for me! Credit to @strangergraphics for dividers.

[wavewaveweek2-electricbugaloo]

WaveWave Week 2024

Hello Friends I hope you've all had a fantastic WaveWave Week last time and that your year has been good. Today I bring you all the prompts for this year's event hoping that months in anticipation may be kind to your creativity and hopefully we can all have fun this year too. Any and all submissions are accepted, only rule is to tag mature content correctly and specifically if it's sexual content you include the 🍋 emoji in the tag. Otherwise do as you like and you can include as many submissions as you desire.

WaveWave Week 2024 starts in Spetember!

Day 1 (September 20) Jealousy

Day 2 (September 21) Mutual Interests

Day 3 (September 22) Research

Day 4 (Septembr 23) Friendships

Day 5 (September 24) Victory

Day 6 (September 25) Boogie

Day 7 (September 26) Free Day

If you have any questions or suggestions you may contact me at my main blog @shi-daisy

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

FINAL for real this time: Davis (Juror 8) from Twelve Angry Men vs the Bimodal Distribution from statistics

Propaganda under the cut, and it's REALLY worth it:

Davis (Juror 8) (these are all from the single submitter)

a quick lil list babes, and I apologise for all of this in advance:

He's from the fucking film 12 angry men. like, aside from letterbox bootlickers and middle school hass students NO ONE has watched this film let alone care about it, it was made in 1957, is shot almost exclusively in one room and the entire film is just middle aged white men yelling at each other over whether some not white poor kid should be sent to the electric chair. what the fuck.

Henry Fonda, the actor, was 52 years old at the time of filming

Henry Fonda is the father of Jane Fonda, the woman who would revolutionise the 80's with her home workouts and her blindingly neon leg warmers.

His name wasn't revealed until the very end of the film and even then it's just "Davis."

I could honestly give him a lil smooch

He's absolutely not girlypop but he's the ally-iest ally who's ever allied

He's categorised as a "Benevolent Leader" on the Heroes Wiki

instead of the overwhelming urge for me to coddle him like most all other blorbos, i would appreciate it switched

I have a photo of him inside my saxophone case and sometimes i forget he's in there, then he creeps into my saxophone bell and when I play it he shoots out like a ballistic missile

Dude, on ao3 there's more fanfiction about the real life 80's British punk band The Clash than the entire film of 12 angry men, let alone Davis (80 fics come up under the clash, while 10 come up for 12 angry men)

I have a counter, and I've watched 12 Angry men a total of 145 times. The figure is up on my wall in tallies. whenever the number goes up, I like to watch it in 5's so then I can put another full group of tallies on my wall.

I have incredibly detailed stories about how Davis would boogie down to ringo starr's solo career, and they're written within the margins of a book called Tobruk written by Peter Fitzsimons. The only reason I reread that book is to wonder at my elaborate works of fiction

My HASS teacher was the one to introduce me to 12 Angry Men as he played it for the entire class. He gave us a set of questions to complete on the film and a few Law based questions as a little treat, and he expected it to be handed in the next day. What he didn't expect was an 11 page monster of a response that included social commentary, 4 paragraphs dissecting the character of Davis alone, deeply discussed comparisons between the landscapes of politics and law in the 50's to the present, and basically an entire point-for-point summarisation of the film, completed with obscure quotes from Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and Presley (Elvis). He presented the printed masterpiece in front of the entire class to shame me.

After class he explained how his favourite Juror would either be 6 or 5, because 6 seems like a big dumb teddybear and he just liked 5. I explained how I liked Davis because he didn't want to send a kid to die, then he told me how Davis would make a good cowboy (at this point in time I was unaware of Henry Fonda's role in Once Upon A Time in The West) and I proceeded to go home and write a 3 part orchestral composition that I could pretend would play as the soundtrack to Juror 8: A Cowboy's Tale or something like that

I had started to make an animation meme starring Davis but only gave up when photoshop literally deleted itself from my laptop

I didn't even hear that Juror 8's name was Davis when I first watched it in class, somehow I only heard it on my 6th rewatch but when I did I literally got so excited I literally got winded and cried a little bit, I had to take a panadol because I got so lightheaded

I have learned the musical motif that plays throughout the film on saxophone, clarinet, recorder, guitar, bass, ukulele, piano and trumpet

I have visions of him

One of Davis' 3 children HAS to be gay and nothing can convince me otherwise

honest to god I'd be a home wrecker if it came to him

I quote not only Davis but the film a lot, and sometimes in the dead silence of all my friends I go on about how the old man couldn't have possibly made it to the door in such a short amount of time to see the kid running down the stairs (because the old man has a limp, and Davis proved it my limping around the room, which I have to say was incredibly attractive of him)

He's literally an architect

I once had a dream where Davis was in my bass guitar case when I opened it, and i literally just picked him up and started picking him like a bass guitar until I tried to play a full chord and he bit the hand that was meant to be on the fretboard. I dropped him and he fell on his ass, and when I said "what the hell dude what was that for" he said bass chords are lowkey ugly to listen to, and since then i don't like playing bass chords because now they're lowkey ugly to listen to. before this ordeal, i enjoyed them, but alas

i once got my romantic partner to write me a davis x reader fanfiction as a birthday present

my parents believe that Davis is my first celebrity crush, and while they're actually wrong it's still actually so embarrassing they believe that because OH MY GOD it's literally JUROR 8 FROM 12 ANGRY MEN

I've attempted slam poetry about him

I've eaten a paper printed full a4 size photo of his hand

I would also not mind him to be literally my father, but given the rest of the things I've just said about him that's really weird and I recognise that

the Bimodal Distribution

First of all, it's a math concept. that is already pretty bizarre of a thing to be blorbo-ifying. Second of all, I don't know any calculus, and I don't consider myself a math person (because I hate arithmetic), but I really like this guy for some reason. I mean this graph clearly holds the secrets of the universe. don't you just want to l o o k at it . like you could solve everything in the world with that boy

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍Masterlist

From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[pzdragon666]

Wavewave week Day 6 - Boogie

Boogie

Tf fic

Ft. Soundwave, Shockwave

-

Soundwave finished what was left of his work before he retired for the evening.

He quickly typed in the last code and called it a night.

He had plans tonight...

-

Shockwave was trying to modify one of his blasters when a doorbell ring.

A doorbell? His doors didn't have a doorbell. He turned around and obviously, Soundwave was there.

Silly Soundwave.

Shockwave put his work aside, knowing exactly what Soundwave was there for.

"I don't understand why we must do this every night." He turned to face him.

Soundwave moved over, wrapping his arms around his neck as Shockwave put his single servo over his hip.

Soundwave put on romantic music as he shuffled closer in Shockwave's arms.

"/Practice./" Soundwave chimed.

They moved around in circles as Soundwave led him.

When they tried for the first time, Shockwave had stepped on Soundwave's pedes multiple times and caused them both to fall.

Shockwave made it up to him afterward when Soundwave fell on top of Shockwave's frame. They were intimate afterward.

After multiple sessions of these unnecessary movements together, Shockwave had gotten better.

He was still stiff, but at least he wasn't stepping on his pede anymore.

-

The music ended, and they remained in each other arms for a few moments.

Soundwave nuzzles his helm over Shockwave's shoulder as he hugged him.

"/Shockwave... was perfect/"

His finial moved upwards as he received the praise.

Maybe there was a reason to have these small moments with his beloved...

-

@chamm0y @kyamo18 @mr-playlist @splashscreenofficial @kiyuu-draws @lanth57 @radiatwave @bumblecow @robomusical

[taylorhawkins]

14 Essential-Listening Taylor Hawkins Tunes

… that aren’t “Cold Day in the Sun”!

1. Pitiful (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattail Riders)

One of his most emotionally raw tracks. I love the strange chords he used on the acoustic guitar to convey the somber depiction of guilt and shame associated with drug addiction described in the lyrics. This is a really painful song to listen to, but it’s beautiful.

2. The Path We’re On (Nighttime Boogie Association)

Matt Cameron and Taylor share vocal duties on this tune (Taylor sings the verses, Matt sings the choruses). Their voices together are pure heaven! Also features Melvins’ Buzz Osbourne snd Steven McDonald on guitar & bass. This group unfortunately only put out 2 songs during the pandemic, but they’re a magical 2.

3. I Could Be Somebody Else (NHC)

Psychedelic in every aspect of that word, this one is best experienced cranked with headphones. Trippy as hell. Dave Navarro was right when he said Taylor is a mind-blowing lyricist and singer. Another emotionally raw tune, when he said one of NHC’s songs makes him feel naked, I think he was referring to this one.

4. Running In Place (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattail Riders)

This song takes you on a journey. It eases you in, then crescendos into classic prog-influenced chaos before it turns to a stream of pretty guitar work and layered vocals as it drops you back off. Taylor said this one was something he wrote talking to himself, trying to bring himself back down to earth and not go crazy. “The Teacher” by Foo Fighters almost certainly took inspiration from this song - the breakdown is nearly identical, and the “…say goodbye” outro is very similar.

5. Too Much for My Own Good (Phil X & the Drills)

This song by Phil X features Taylor on the drums. This is such a fun rock & roll tune that will definitely be stuck in your head for days but you won’t be mad about it. Every person I’ve ever played this to has loved it!! PS- you’ve definitely heard Phil X before, his discography as a studio musician is wild.

6. You Drive Me Insane (Taylor Hawkins & the Coattails Riders)

I love the trippy riff and the vocals in this song, it’s a California rock & roll vibe and it’s one of my top favorites of his. One of his sexier tunes he said was written about Mrs. Alison Hawkins.

7. Southern Belles

No group credited as he played every instrument and sang this one! (I think the bass is either Chris Chaney or Nate Mendel, but I couldn’t find out for sure). This is a heavy-hitting, super catchy one about his southern family roots. Really under-appreciated track from the same EP that gave us “Range Rover Bitch”.

8. Never Enough (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Taylor’s vocal range doesn’t get talked about enough… The cathartic way he belts his heart out at the end of this song gets me every single time. His voice was so beautiful. Another of that emotionally raw side of his music.

9. It’s Ok Now (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Another earworm, this one’s rhythm is bound to make you move. His voice is pure rock and roll. I think you can really hear how much his songwriting impacted the Foo Fighters’ music on this album, even though many people think Dave told everyone what to play…when you really listen, that doesn’t seem to be the case. This song feels like summer sunshine to me.

10. Guess I’ll Go Away (Edgar Winter)

Taylor on vocals for “Brother Johnny”, a tribute to Johnny Winter album, this was one of the last things he did musically. He SLAYED that shit. He sounds so good. Rock and fucking roll.

11. Louise (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

I have no idea how he played that drumbeat and sang this song at the same time. Mind boggling. This song is so unique and so catchy, I don’t get why it wasn’t a hit. The rhythm section is my favorite part of the whole thing, Taylor and Chris Chaney locked in together SO well. It’s no wonder they played together from the Alanis days all the way up to him putting the ‘C’ in NHC.

12. Fearless (NHC)

This is a Pink Floyd cover…But it’s an amazing one! It’s groovy and trippy and they’re so locked in together, they were made to play music with each other. NHC unfortunately has a very small discography, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have selected a cover…but maybe I would’ve anyway, this one is just so good!

13. You’re No Good at Life No More (Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders)

Taylor and Dave Grohl split the vocals on this one and it’s such a wild ride. You can really hear his Queen influence throughout this album… so much so that he manifested Roger Taylor’s appearance on the last track! D&T’s voices together are magic as you hear on “Rope” by Foo Fighters and their cover of “Come Together”, I always wish they sang together more often.

14. Perfect Day

Only a minute long, this beautiful song is just Taylor and his guitar. A sweet reminder he wrote for Mrs. Hawkins that his love is always with her no matter where he goes. I’m sure she treasures this one. There’s so much love in it.

[hearts4golbach]

Get the Angles Right!

part 12.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

GET EXCITED FOR KINKTOBER

proofread

warnings:

slight angst.

word count:

1.1k

your eyes fluttered open, and the feeling of another heart beating in sync with yours made you smile softly. it was early morning, and you figured you had slept for less than 7 hours. the smell of Johnnies cologne and hotel breakfast was present in the room, providing a comforting aroma. light was peeking through the blinds, slightly illuminating the dark room. you turned your gaze up at Johnnie, who was still fast asleep. his grip on you was loose, but very protective, as if he thought the boogie man was bound to get you. you giggled at the thought.

the buzzing of someone's phone caught you off guard. you gently turned your head to see it was Johnnies. you didn't mean to snoop, but it was a message from Jake. you couldn't read it from where you were laying, but the time was displayed perfectly. it was 6:57 in the morning. Jake definitely did not seem like the type to be up this early, but who were you to judge? you didn't bother getting out of the warm bed to find your phone. it wasn't like there'd be anything worth losing this moment, anyway.

you counted Johnnies breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4. they were slow and gentle and so very peaceful. you matched his breathing instinctively,  breathing in rhythm with him. 12, 13, 14.. his heartbeat was prominent, pounding against your ear as you rested your head on his bare chest. you felt pieces of hair still stuck to your head as dried sweat clung to all of your body. 27, 28, 29, 30.

Johnnies phone rang loudly, filling the room with a song that was a little too loud for the moment. of course, you had heard this ringtone before, but it was so aggravating in that moment. you felt Johnnie quickly stir awake, clearly disturbed by the loud, abrupt noise. you shut your eyes and pretended to still be asleep. you weren't too sure why that was a habit of yours. Johnnies arm moved further down your waist, holding you ever so slightly closer as he carefully leaned over you to grab his phone.

Johnnies tired, raspy voice answered, "Hello?" You couldn't hear what the person on the other side of the phone was saying. "Yeah, we'll meet you down there in, like, 45." The other person mumbled something in response before Johnnie hung up. he let out a deep sigh, gently rubbing your waist. "y/n, do you want to come to breakfast with us?" his voice was soft and comforting. You could've fallen back asleep just listening to it.

you took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes. you squinted up at Johnnie, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. his smudged eyeliner was a large contrast compared to the color, and you couldn't help but admire him as you spoke. "Yeah." You snuggled closer to his chest. "Wish we could just stay like this all day."

he let out a low chuckle, which you could feel deep in his chest. "Me too. come take a shower with me?"

you agreed without hesitation. Johnnie tiredly climbed out of bed. you followed him to the bathroom, stumbling over your feet as a result of last night. he looked back at you, eyeing you with a mischievous smile. you wrapped your hand around his arm for stability. "What are you looking at?"

he shook his head. you rolled your eyes, a contradictory smile forming on your face. his messy raven hair and overall appearance made you smile. you wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning, especially if he was there. you wouldn't mind at all. you shook the thought away. it quickly ruined your mood, reminding you all of this was temporary.

you let out a soft sigh, sitting on the toilet seat as you watched Johnnie start the shower. he looked back at you quizzically. "You okay?"

you shrugged, trying to fake a smile. "Yeah," his eyebrows knitted together, clearly skeptical of your response.

"Talk to me. please, ma?" The nickname made your stomach do backflips. the leading look in his eyes quickly made you give in. "i know something's wrong. do you not want to go?"

you quickly shook your head. you felt bad starting this conversation. the last thing you wanted to do was ruin Johnnie's day this early. you truly didn't want to ruin it at all. "No, no. it's not that. i know i'm just a hookup, but i'm really going to fucking miss you when you leave." you hated to admit what you were truly thinking, but the truth always comes to light.

his gaze on you softened. "you're not 'just a hookup.'" he shook his head. you looked down at your feet, ashamed. you weren't sure what to think of that response. "hey, look at me." you did as he told, looking up into his watercolor eyes. "c'mere." he said softly, pulling you from your sitting position.

he began to take your clothes off for you. he was silent, thinking of how to explain his feelings for you in the correct way. truthfully, they were unexplainable.

"i think you were made for me, y/n." he blurted randomly. he began to take his clothes off as you stepped into the shower. "ever since i first saw you," he hesitated, stepping in after you. the words were on the tip of his tongue. "it just felt right. i really, really like you. i want this, i want us to work out no matter what happens."

his words made your heart jump. relief flushed your body, which was visible on your face. Johnnie noticed. he wrapped his arms around you, and you did the same in return. the warm water covered your bodies, a comforting sensation for the tense moment. he rubbed your back gently.

"it's you, y/n. and i'll make this work out. we'll figure it out, okay?" he leaned back to look at you, a smile forming on his face as you made eye contact with him. "fuck, i'll stuff you in my suitcase if i have to."

you laughed, burying your flushed face ack into his chest. "okay." you replied softly. if you said much more, you were sure you'd cry.

Johnnie had easily gotten to know you like the back of his hand. he didn't push you for a further response. your 'okay' was all he needed. the only other thing he needed was you by his side, and he had that. he felt like the luckiest guy in the world, as cheesy as it was. he knew if there was any further talk about him going home, it'd completely ruin your day if it hadn't already. he racked his brain, silently praying to the god he didn't believe in to make this work out. he had never wanted anything more.

[phoenixtherobot]

Hermittober Day 6: Bread!

The bread bridge being built for an extremely drawn out boogie kill is one of the best things about it ngl

[gamerbearmira]

Can we have more of the dazzlings au

OF COURSE RAHGGGG

Ummmm. So eventually I'm gonna rewatch this movie lol but.

Yeah these guys mostly feed off of negative energy, but it's not just negative. They can feed on positive ones as well, it's just not as potent or powerful??? Like idk how to describe it, but negative energy just has more power. And they need to sustain not just themselves but 6 other kids 😭

That too. I'm still not entirely sure about it but. I think maybe??? The kids also have gems, but they can't quite use them yet. Heck, I've been thinking about making it so that they might not even know what they are. One of the triplets (usually Pepa or Julieta), will sing the kids to sleep, and sorta transfer some of the energy from that day to their gems.

Idk if Alma would be aware of this fact or not. She doesn't quite have a good or bad role yet, so rn she's the oblivious parent. Whether she literally hasn't notice or refuses to, up to you 😭

Some songs that I think would fit them best. Including the husbands, in case I do add them but idk:

Pepa: Fame/Gloria/9 to 5/Twilight

Julieta: Sweet Dreams/Money, Money, Money/ Knock on Wood/Let's Hear It For The Boy

Bruno: Karma Chameleon/Beat It/Everybody Wants To Rule The World/No Surprises

Fèlix: My Prerogative/Time in a Bottle/If It Isn't Love/Blame it on the Boogie

Agustín: Together Forever/Copacabana/Uptown Girl/Kokomo

[sterekfests]

Welcome to our Spring round of Sterek Fests! Sterek Spring Fest will run from March 3rd - April 6th in celebration of Spring, whether you are excited about the renewal of life and spring blooms or traveling for Spring Break, there’s a little something for everyone!

Check out our Rules and FAQs. 

We also have a Discord you can join.

How to Participate:

Participating in Sterek Spring Fest is easy and stress-free! This is a no-commitment fest where you can participate as little or as much as you want. Participate in one week and none of the others if you so fancy, or participate in all of them! There is no minimum word count for your fics. We have an AO3 Collection for you to post all of your creations in!  This fest is open to both Fic and Art, so create to your heart's content!

How to post:

You can post your creations to any website that you want, as long as they are viewable to the public, whether that’s Tumblr, LiveJournal, DreamWidth, or our AO3 Collection. @sterekfests so we see your creations to reblog them. We can only reblog on Tumblr and Re-Tweet on Twitter (we are @sterekfests on Twitter also).  If you post on another site other than Tumblr, Twitter, or Ao3, you can send us a link and we can post it here on the fest blog for you. Use the tags #sterekfestsspring2024, and #sterekfests for generic tags. For weekly tags: #sterekfestsbreak, #sterekfestsicecream, #sterekfestsbeach, #sterekfestspicnic, #sterekfestsharvest

Late Posting:

Late posting is always welcomed! The collection will stay open for late submissions. You can find our Summer, Fall, and Winter collections also if you’d like to add to those collections.

If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask!

- Liam (@sterekbros) & Dori (@evanesdust)

Keep reading to see all the awesome Spring theme weeks ahead!

March 3 - 9: Spring Break

Spring break mode: activated! Stiles and Derek are ready to make some unforgettable memories. The plan? Maybe a road trip through the scenic routes of California. Or maybe they spend the week in a cabin in the woods, surrounded by nature's serenity. They could go hiking, take long walks, and at night, gather around a campfire, share stories, or just enjoy the peacefulness. It's all about stepping away from the usual hustle and bustle and reconnecting with each other and the great outdoors.

March 10 - 16: Ice Cream Crawl

What better way to beat the heat and stress of their supernatural lives than an ice cream crawl? Maybe Derek and Stiles spend their day hitting up different ice cream shops across Beacon Hills as they hunt for the most mouth-watering flavors. Or maybe they venture out of town, finding secret spots and hole-in-the-wall parlors, sampling the eclectic mix of frozen delights from vendors who boast an array of international and exotic ingredients. Either way, they're sure to map out a route that would make any sweet tooth swoon.

March 17 - 23: Beach

It’s time to ditch the winter blues and bring on the ultimate beach parties. Perhaps Derek and Stiles decide to make the most of their day building sandcastles together, or maybe they go for a swim and try boogie boarding? They could walk along the shore and collect unique seashells or relax on their beach towels and soak up the sun. Wherever you take Stiles and Derek this spring, they’re sure to be excited for their beach adventure, enjoying the sun, sand, and waves.

March 24 - 30: Picnic Anywhere

With Spring comes lush, vibrant landscapes filled with new life…and ants. There’s sun-warmed skin along with sweet fragrant flowers blooming, which means it’s time to have some Spring fun! Perhaps Stiles and Derek are having a picnic at the newly rebuilt Hale house, or are enjoying a meadow speckled with wildflowers in the preserve. It could be perfect or a complete disaster if it’s interrupted by Spring showers. Only you can share with us where Stiles and Derek are having picnics this Spring! 

March 31 - April 6: Spring Harvest Festival

Spring has arrived and it’s time to enjoy all the local harvest festivals have to offer! Maybe Stiles and Derek visit a local farmers market to check out the produce for the season, or they run a table or booth there. Perhaps Stiles and Derek are taking Eli to an Easter egg hunt with all the pack kids during a spring festival. There are so many options, including games, food, crafts, and anything else you can imagine that can be enjoyed during a Spring Festival! Show us what Stiles and Derek are doing this Spring!

@thebigbangblogproject @teenwolffandomevents @sterekevents