#i dunno man. it's............ mmmm

[cloysterbell]

i havent seen the last couple episodes of leverage but i saw your tag saying you dont like what they're doing to parker and im not sure yet how i feel about parker this season, but do you want to talk about what you're thinking?

So Flanderization is a trope where you take a multi-dimensional character and boil them down into one typically exaggerated element, usually for comedic relief purposes. At the end of S5, Parker was the Mastermind. She had undergone such bonkers character development, going from the weird loner who only cared about making a quick steal to becoming the only person to ever succeed in the White Rabbit because she understands. She talked what the hell's his name down from that ledge by talking to him about making a choice and seizing control of his life and not letting his past drag him down. She became someone who Nate, that shitlord bastard of a man (affectionate), was proud of, which is no easy feat.

Fast forward to Redemption where she's this like, ADHD scatterbrained parody of herself who only seems to care about vents and thievery. Yes, we get the occasional moment where old!Parker shines through like in The Date Night Job where she connects with that kid and the whole "we're both the Doctor" moment with Hardison, but those seem pretty few and far between, mostly because she also feels pretty absent this season? I know Beth directed an episode or two but she's barely in half the episodes and when she IS there, she feels almost like... comic relief, which is not what Parker is.

In OG Leverage, they had the running bit where you never see Parker enter or leave a room which the continue in Redemption, but instead of having Parker just sitting on a counter eating cereal or something benign, just always being there without ever showing up, they always seem to have her pop in with this crazed look in her eyes. It's little stuff like that, where it's never casual but instead it's like they have to keep reminding you that she's weird and quirky.

I dunno, look, I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to TV and I'm very good about overlooking things I don't like and focusing on things I do, but I put a lot of eggs into Parker's basket during my watch of the OG series and something about this is rubbing me the wrong way. It just feels..... disrespectful, you know?

[you-see-something-strange-here]

If you think the team didn’t have a longterm bet going on about whether Roy and Jamie were fucking after Amsterdam, you’re wrong. Also, all bets were conducted with the Honorable Judge McAdoo presiding over them.

[hotluncheddie]

thinking about how eddies jeans would rip but it wouldn't be in like the modern distressed way. they would rip because he wears the same pair every day and has bony ass knees. they would rip like frank iero rips his jeans, straight across the knee from rolling around and being a little idiot.

[faineant-girl]

*going thru a page i know will piss me off* man that pisses me off

[solarpunkani]

Do you know if you’ll be able to make one of those free pantries around the city? Or like, bring people together to make a volunteer pantry?

I'll be honest, I have no idea.

I've lived in my city my whole life, but I'm also shy as hell. Working myself up to going door to door around my cul de sac and offering people tomatoes was an entire ordeal--and I had to have my dad with me to have even a modicum of confidence. (And he needed to hold two of the 3 bowls but still).

I also just. Don't know what all goes into setting up a little free pantry. I've seen some that are little wooden boxes like little free libraries are, and I've seen some that are a literal refrigerator. Which, I guess the refrigerated one would be able to hold more food, but also. Energy costs? Then there's the additional factor of 'where is this thing going to be hosted?' Because I know for damn sure that my parents aren't going to want it near the house, and the house at the end of the street literally has 'no tresspassing no solicitors we will call the cops or maybe grab a gun' signs in their yard. I could maybe see if a local library would be willing to host one--though that would, again, require I get the courage to. Go to a library. (I know, I'm just killing it in the solarpunk and community outreach aspects of life. Can't even muster the willpower to sit in a library.)

If I were in the more artsy part of the city (where the little free library is already set up), or maybe by the beach (where there is a food pantry that I don't think is tied to a church, but its a 40+ minute drive there), then a volunteer effort could maybe have some ground. But the part of the city I'm in... I dunno, I just don't get that vibe.

Maybe someday I'll muster the courage to like. Make some kind of ripple effect. but right now I am the equivalent of a scared little kid who still has to hold daddy's hand to ring a doorbell and reverse trick or treat the next door neighbors who've been there almost as long as I've been alive.

[ronispadez]

The fandoms in my brain are mixing into a neat soup. Anyway do you think Ray Toro ever played Earthbound

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fizzy-blood]

Toby NSFW hcs? 🧍😈

Ticci Toby X Reader/'S/O' Headcanons🪓🔥 [NSFW]

RAHHH I know my pookie wookie Linus is gonna eat this shit up- also, thanks for the ask! Also the 122 followers? How the fuck? Idk man... Anyways, hope you enjoy!

WARNING: NSFW/18+ CONTENT [Hatchet fucking, puppy sub, hair pulling, mentions of Toby trying to give himself a dick piercing, praise kink]

Mmmm.... Him... Toby would be so silly...

So... So silly

Well... I know for a fact that he's a switch!

Top or bottom.. He doesn't care as long as he's getting positive attention from it!

In other words... Please don't try to degrade him, he hates it... 😞

But what he does love is having your full attention

He'll look at you with the biggest, most autistic ass eyes on the planet while he pounds into you...

But don't expect him to be able to do that if you're pounding into him... Absolute whimpering mess

Anyways... Dick description time!!🤩 🥳

So... It's about 6 and a half inches and not super girthy.. But Toby's kinda lanky so... It's very fitting...

He did try to pierce it in a couple different spots but it didn't work... So now he just has a couple random scares all over is dick... Ouch

And he doesn't really shave or anything... And I doubt he actually ever tried too...

But he would if you asked... Probably... I dunno if he would actually-

Either way, that thing is fucked up-

And he's also very inexperienced

It's kinda sad

But please be patient with him and show him what to do!

Again, he doesn't really care if he's top or bottom... And he'll try to be more dominant if you tell/ask him to be... But again, he'll probably just end up a whimpering mess

Now for kinks! Yippee!

Two words. Hatchet Fucking.

I actually did write about this in my first Toby fic!

But for those of you who don't understand what that means, it means he'll fuck you with the handle of his hatchet or hatches... Woagh

It will hurt the first few times... But I'm 90% the person reading this has a pain kink... As well as like... Most of this godforsaken fandom...

But other than that I feel like he'd have a praise kink

Both giving praise and receiving it

Especially if you call him a good boy (not self projecting... Idk what ur talking about...)

But call him that and he'll be on his knees for you

To be honest... I feel like he'd be really into the whole "puppy boy/puppy sub" thing

So get him a collar and leash

He'll love it. Trust me.

And he's also into hair pulling

He can't really feel pain so he likes having you take control like that

It's just nice to him <3

Overall a very silly guy who has almost no idea what he's doing... He just wants to be loved I swear!

(This wasn't me self projecting I dunno what ur talking about 😒)

BOOM. DONE. I FEEL SO AWESOME RN 🤩. I hope you enjoyed it! I love writing for Toby and EJ so... I'll take any excuse to write about either of them! Again, asks are open so feel free to pop in there and send me requests!

(Hatchet and Lighter dividers by @sister-lucifer )

[star--anon]

I'm bored, let's talk jealous Minho

because you KNOW that idiot is slinking around Thomas like "Hey. You got any crushes? Is that boy hot to you? Do you like men? Do you think that man looks cute? What's your type. You like muscles?"

Thomas starts talking about how he sometimes misses Teresa, or how his love for Teresa and Brenda confuses him sometimes, etc. and Minho is vibrating with homosexuality

Thomas slips into his tent one night to tell him that he might have a crush on one of the Immunes, but he doesn't know what to do about his feelings

Minho gives him the biggest Kicked Puppy Look of the century

That moment when your crush is indeed gay, but is not gay for you

Start immediately trying to find this Immune. Needs to get a look at him. Whoever this man is better be the kindest, smartest, most sarcastic and yet also genuinely thoughtful and caring man to ever exist to deserve Thomas' secret admiration

Thomas laughs and promises Minho that his crush is all of that and more, but refuses to share who it really is

"Dammit, Minho, stop trying to know his name. I just need advice. What should I do?" "Find someone better."

Minho's soooo adamant about it too.

just dropping excuse left and right about why he doesn't like this crush of Thomas'.

"You've never even met him!" "Okay, but he could be a murderer. Why would I want to meet a murderer."

He gives hundreds of excuses and none of them are true. "He could be really mean. Have you ever even talked to him before? You have a dry sense of humor; what if he can't reciprocate? What if he hates coffee. What if he hates big sweaters. I bet your crush won't appreciate flowers."

Thomas keeps confiding in him like, "Mmmm, I wonder if my crush could-"

meanwhile all Minho wants to do is scream "I COULD DO IT BETTER"

He finally snaps one day. They're cuddling and Thomas sighs into his shoulder, and it sends a shiver down his spine, and he's just so fucking happy... And Minho remembers it's a limited amount of time before someone else gets these moments with Thomas. And what if Thomas won't have time for him anymore?

Thomas blinks in confusion as he's suddenly shoved off the bed

"Minho what's wrong?" "I dunno, ask your stupid crush."

Minho tries to pick a fight with him. He's better at anger and sarcasm than he is at talking it out. Maybe it's selfish of him, but he's drunk on anger and that helps suppress the guilt in him a little.

Thomas puts a quick stop to it though.

"My crush is you."

"So why don't you fucking- Your crush is what."

Thomas grins and laughs a little. Rubs the back of his neck. "Awkward confession, huh?"

Minho's on him and kissing his face before he can finish his sentence.

[scwibbs]

Mmmm okie lemme be a bit silly for a second but can I thank you for the fat Miguels? Like. I dunno it's nice, when I'm fat too? (Esp when you've done him as a trans man, I hold that dear to my heart?) He's got rolls and he's happy and idk? Seeing your art just makes me happy tbh, so thank you?

aaaa im so glad that you enjoy it!! its brings me alot of joy that my art makes you happy :') genuinely like ive said before knowing that my art impacts you guys in a positive way keeps me drawing even when im down. here's a drawing jus for you :D

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Sorry Not Sure If U Take requests but i have an amazing idea.

Soo what about an tangerine x reader

Where the Reader is an Agent and its kinda Like enemies to Lovers but a little more twisted.

Since the twins are Killers, she tries to find them and IT gets flirty and all and tangerine is after some time sending the Reader clothes and Gifts and such. And at First the Reader is scared Like how do they know her Adresse. As it goes on tangerine is about to get catched but the Reader Just lets him Go. As Well as some Point of Views from the twins where tangerine is Like obssesing about the Reader and Lemon is Like nahhh U cant Just do that.

Inspired by Killing eve

I wanna colabe

I do! I’m trying to get to as much requests as I can (: I’m sorry this took me so long I’ve been so busy and this just got buried under a lot of other requests

Peaceful

Tangerine wasn’t one to get distracted from a job, usually that was lemon. But not this time.

“Yeah, I’m jus’ saying.” Tangerine shrugged, sitting down at the bar and looking around.

It was a large bar in a hotel. Why the target was here? They had no clue.

There you sat, in a dress with crossed legs, taking a sip of your martini as you glanced around.

You caught eye of a man in a suit. Another man next to him and talking to him, then getting up and walking off somewhere.

“I got eyes on her.” He said to lemon, and looking at you.

“What’s she doin?” He hid behind a wall, getting ready.

“She’s talking to the bartender.”

“So how should I go about this? Plan A or plan B?” You asked your friend, and your partner in crime who was being a bartender in disguise.

“Mmmm…. He’s checking you out, Plan A. Don’t know where the other one is though.” She looked around.

You sighed and looked at the man, the so called “Tangerine”

He looked at you, giving you a smile. You looked at your friend who just shrugged.

“Go get ‘em tiger. I’m right here.” She slightly showed you the gun she had hidden.

You got up, and sat next to the man, he looked at you and gave you a small smile.

“So how you wanna do this? Just guns a blazing?” You asked him, moving your leg up and down his.

“Mmm.. dunno, love. Maybe I should jus’ fucking stab your eyes out in front of everyone.” He said back, and looked at you.

“That’s adorable. Really. Now please, just let me take you to my client. He’s getting annoying, and he’s all like ‘oh my god it’s been a month’ so can we wrap this whole thing up?”

“Tell me who your client is and this whole thing can be over in minutes, dove.” He pointed the gun he was holding under the table at you.

“You know I can’t do that.” You took another sip of the martini, now completely finished.

“That’s a shame, really.” He swiftly turned around, and kicked you. Many shocked people around recorded and Lemon pulled the fire alarm.

You looked up at the counter, and saw your partner running to you. Tangerine cocked his gun and held your head on the marble.

“Who is it?” He gritted his teeth.

Your partner held her own gun to his head, and lemon pointed it at her.

“Seriously? Am I the only one who’s not pointing a gun right now? Can’t we sort this out or something?” You asked.

“Yeah, we can. Tell me who hired you.”

You groaned in annoyance, and kicked him in the balls.

“Motherfucker-“ he mumbled, you giggled and stole his gun away when he dropped it on the ground, holding it to lemon.

“All right, can we just take you guys to the client? Cause this would be a lot easier-“ you felt a sharp pain in your side suddenly, your partner yelling and starting to shoot, the twins running out and zooming away in their car.

“Fuck. Y/n.. y/n, stay awake.” She mumbled, grabbing your arms and helping you walk into the car. She quickly dragged you to your guys agency, and you were immediately dragged to a dingy infirmary room.

—————————————————————-

You opened the door when a knock came to it, a large box at the door.

You furrowed your eyebrows and picked it up, cutting it open with a knife you stared it at.

A pink basket with a small teddy bear, a bunch of candy and a card.

“I know I shot you a few months ago, but I hope you feel better. But seriously, just tell me who hired you and this can all be over.

XOXO, Tangerine.

ps. Lemon did not want me to send this at all.”

You and tangerine had a very… complicated relationship. You’ve been chasing him for months, but he always slipped away. You’ve had sex pretty much almost every time you fought. You hated each other almost, but not really at the same time.

Sometimes, it wasn’t always hate fucking. Sometimes you both held hands, kissed, cuddled in secrecy. Two people enjoying each others company.

The chemistry between you both was undeniable, the only problem was work.

You looked at the box some more, how the hell did they find your address?

It was creepy, but almost sweet. You furrowed your eyebrows and read some more notes he left, he had also given you a novel, remembering the one time he had read to you.

“𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐, 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔. 𝑨 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝑯𝒆𝒓? 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔?“ 𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕.

𝑯𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒌, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒑𝒕.

You smiled at the memory, and then shook your head. No. It could never work out, you constantly reminded yourself.

—————————————————————

Another day, another chasing the twins mission.

You sighed and dreaded this one, looking around the crowded place. Your partner was out sick.

You then locked eyes with him, Tangerine that is. Lemon looked at what he was looking at and shook his head.

“Man, what have I told you?” He said to tangerine.

“What you talkin’ about?”

“I see the way you’re lookin’ at her. C’mon, man, let it go.”

Tangerine scoffed, and folded his arms, leaning against the doorway.

“I didn’t do anything. She’s here to catch us, so let’s just go.”

“You sent the card, didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t.”

Lemon groaned “Told you not too, man. Jesus Christ.”

You started to walk up to them and they started to back up, you looked back quickly, throwing a smoke bomb discreetly on the floor.

Soon, people were coughing and leaving the building, just you three now.

You smiled at them, standing in front of them now.

“So nice to see you both again. Thanks for the card, very sweet.” You said with a smirk.

Lemon gave him a look and he just rolled his eyes.

“Look, we don’t know who keeps hiring you to get us, but it never works, does it? So let’s jus’”Tangerine was cut off when you kicked the gun he was holding to you out of his hand, you grabbed it when it fell to the floor and pointed it to the both of them.

“What were you saying?”

You then punched lemon, Tangerine sighing and trying to throw you off, but instead you kicked him in the balls, making him groan and fall back on the floor.

“Okay, that was just not fair.”

You pinned them both to the ground, and when lemon was about to pull the trigger, you grabbed his gun.

“So, anyways, as I was saying, I can’t really tell you.” You shrugged.

Lemon sighed and turned to Tangerine.

“Can you tell your girlfriend to get off?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, tell her yourself.” He rolled his eyes, you stared down at them both.

You looked into tangerines eyes, they were beautiful you had to admit. You sighed.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this. Kick me.” You whispered to them.

“What?” They both asked.

“Kick me.”

“Why?” Tangerine said, face scrunched up in confusion.

You groaned “Because if my boss looks back at the tapes and sees I let you get away, I’ll get in trouble.”

“Alright.” Lemon said with a shrug, kicking you harder than you expected. You faked a groan, and you fell onto the ground. You looked up at them walking away and you winked.

[corvussnakee]

Hmmm.. Mmmm... Hhmm...hmm.. Mm.. Hmmm~ ♩

What a wonderful day...

-

-

-

NOTE: Okay- so this is the first time I've ever done something like a ask character type of thingy. Feel free to ask whatever questions you want (keep em mostly PG-13 please...) Or if you want to you could possibly leave some suggestions on how to do an ask blog.. I think that's it? Hrrrhhh, and such. I'm honestly gonna be doing this off the top of my head so uh.. This isn't gonna be like, the greatest? I dunno man.

Man, I spent a good chunk of time drawing Sanses lmao. Not used to drawing this silly skeleton.

[powderblueblood]

YES! NO! OKAY! I DUNNO!

ronnie and eddie volunteer at the hawkins high carnival to start their senior year off wrong right. wc: 2.4k warnings: eh, none. swearing. era-typical misogyny and shit. ronnie ecker gay as hell. was this inspired by the opening scene of bottoms (2023)? maybe! mind your business! requested by the lovely @joejoequinnquinn

“The thing is, man, when Ms. Kelley calls, you answer.” Ronnie shrugs through a mouthful of kettle corn and Eddie can almost hear the like Ghostbusters! She doesn’t even need to say it. 

“Kelley did not call you, first of all–”

“--well, no, we met at the market. Which is way more intimate, if you think about it. Romantic.”

“Second of all, this is a total fucking betrayal of your anti-school spirit ethos.” Eddie, with his wound cloud of cotton candy stuck in a cone, gesticulates wildly. Dude’s even scaring away the flies that might dare land on it. "What, you’re all pep squad now because you gotta nosebone some teachers into giving you scholarship recommendation letters? Volunteering for the fucking carnival?” His hands go up, a makeshift bandleader for the jaunty circus soundtrack that twinkles through the humid September air. “What’s next, the Young Republicans?” 

Ronnie’s whole face crushes in disgust. As per usual, she’s overestimated his perception in these matters. Dumbdumb is totally missing the point. 

“Edweiner,” she says, adjusting the strap of her overalls, “What I think you’re failing to essentially recognize here is the fact that–look around!--there are girls here.”

Damn fuckin’ skippy. Cheerleaders, nerd girls, regular girls, artsy girls, band girls, chess club girls, girls all wearing marginally hipper clothing than they usually would. Because the Hawkins High school carnival is prime hunting ground for hookups. 

Not that Ronnie's looking for any such thing, but it doesn't hurt to see how the other half live.

“Yyyyeah, girls that have spent the last four years ignoring u–” 

Okay, ixnay. Ronnie cuts Eddie off right at the knees, shoving a full palm into his face.

“Mmmm, glass half full me for a hot sec,” y’know, god knows what brought this optimism on for Ronnie. Maybe her job directing lowly freshmen toward the gaming booths, maybe it’s the kettle corn that kind of tastes like carpet, but she’s rolling with it, “These are girls that are still in fuck-it-it’s-summer mode. Girls that are entering their senior year of high school. Girls, okay, girls who may have finally realized that the social hierarchies of Hawkins are total bullshit and want to start off their year with a bang.”

She and Eddie stop in their tracks, identical brown eyes staring each other down. 

“A finger bang,” Ronnie encourages.

Eddie blinks, slow and spacey, like a cow.

“Fruuuhm you.”

Again, with Eddie’s shaking of the fucking cotton candy. There’s a wasp trapped in there right now. “Are you fucking high right now? Are you insane?”

“Technically, yes!” Ronnie can smoke and bike, it’s fine. “Hereditarily, jury’s still out!” Eddie sorta cringes at that one, and she smirks. “See, I can make those jokes, because of the loopy mom of it all. You can’t make those jokes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Cue disheartened shrug. ”But. Y’know. We can leave.” 

Her metalhead comrade grimaces, Reeboks kicking through the grass as a bunch of freshmen scatter in his path. 

Ronnie sighs real big. “We can leave… if you’re too chicken to stay.”

Pump the fuckin’ breaks. Ronnie keeps walking a few paces, intentionally leaving Eddie in her dust.

“Ronald James.”

And then she pivots. All that’s missing is Ennio Morricone playing from the heavens. Or the PA, whatever.

“Edward… ward.”

Eddie squints, his heavy brown knitting furiously. “You just call me a chicken?”

And Ronnie shrugs, cool as crushed ice. “If it walks and it buh-kawks.”

Scoff. Scoff. Scoff. Eddie’s whole torso is wracking with scoffs, he’s like a courtesan dying of consumption with scoffs, he’s about to keel over with scoffs, he quite simply can’t believe–

“Quit hawkin’ up hairballs and square up, pardner!” Ronnie yells. 

Enough with the theatrics! It’s like clicking in a seatbelt, the way their competitive nature with each other activates. Just add chicken and they are off, Eddie flinging his cotton candy to the wayside, the sticky mess hitting a nearby kid. The two of them jostle through the carnival, tracking on up to the sad-looking shooting gallery that’s being manned by one of their greasier classmates that neither of them recognise. Eddie, that big-handed buffoon, beats Ronnie to the punch of slamming down his fluorescent green tickets. 

“Hi! I’d like to shoot to kill, please,” he booms. 

The kid just stares at him, shifting to the left. “‘kay. Whatever. It’s three turns.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes as Eddie slams the pellet rifle into his shoulder– she’s seen his hand-eye coordination, alright? It sucks dick, the dude can barely walk in a straight line. It’s a miracle he can play guitar at all! 

Ptew! The first of the little tin duckies barely makes it away with its life, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head from Munson. Ptew! Second one, not so lucky. 

Eddie, roving around with the rifle for his final victim, yells to Ronnie. “Looks like havin’ a dad with a rap sheet pays off, Ron!”

Ptew! Third and final. Eddie’s face peels back into that terrifier of a grin that’s like, okay, calm down, Bozo the Clown.

“Pfff… beginner’s luck,” Ronnie tuts.  

“Like you’ve ever even held a gun before,” Eddie says and pivots back to the kid manning the booth, who’s passing him his prize. “Hold on, nonono, gimme that bear. The like, the zebra print one. With the fuck me eyes.”

The volunteer carnie doesn’t budge. “You only hit two. The bears are if you hit three. You win green Papa Smurf if you get two.” 

And gingerly, Eddie accepts the little off-brand Smurf. Where do they get this shit? Does it fall off the back of the same truck that carries Bev’s off-brand liquor at The Hideout or what?

Whatever, Ronnie grabs the rifle from him and settles it against her shoulder. She can already hear Eddie tutting like, there’s no way and don’t embarrass yourself, Ron, but the thing is–ptew!--you don’t get to be as good of a drummer as Ronnie Ecker–ptew!--without learning a little precision. 

Ptew!

“What?” she shrugs to an open-mouthed Munson as the pimply kid passes her a big ol’ overstuffed bear, with the fuck me eyes painted on and all (weird feature. Ronnie might regret having this in her bedroom later on), “Like it’s hard?”

Eddie huffs, because that’s a boy that hates to be shown up even if he spends so much of his loser ass time being shown up. But, it’s usually not by Ronnie, so! 

They keep movin’ through the fair, like that old folk song goes, two heat seeking missiles looking to outdo each other. Ring toss? Piss. Cornhole? Are you fucking kidding me? Balloon darts– okay, so they maybe blew their wad a little early by going straight to the gun range but there’s gotta be something… 

Then, Ronnie spots it, because it’s all flailing and water and choking and drama and shit. 

Dunk tank.

She yanks Eddie over by the collar. 

Whoever the poor sucker was that they’d been dunking made an extremely dramatic exit. Ronnie overhears something about, ‘What do you mean, you never asked him if he could swim!’ squawked from the irate mouth of one Nancy Wheeler. Because of course she’s involved in cruise directing this, somehow. Like, where does she get the time? How does she have even a minute gap in her schedule for this? How can someone look so pretty when she’s stressed? 

Then, next thing Ronnie knows, ol’ Blue Eyes Wheeler is walking towards them. Orbs of azure all ringed apologetic and Ronnie’s rooted to the ground, she can’t move, she can’t think– 

–and naturally, Nancy’s looking at Eddie.

“I would usually never, never ask this…”

“He’ll do it.” She says it without hesitation, without thinking, without considering Eddie, like, at all. 

Which naturally makes him bark, “I’ll do what?!”

“Be the dunkee. Be the dunked man,” Ronnie hisses, eyes flicking from a confused Nancy to an enraged Eddie. 

“Oh god, would you? Please?” Nancy asks, almost begging– and look, the girl knows how to turn on the charm. She might not be Eddie’s type, not in eight million bajillion lightyears, but it’s near impossible to say no to her. “You can swim, right?”

“And it’s just about time for his yearly bath! So! Heh!” Ronnie gasps a little too loud for her own good, earning a gravitational pull back from Nancy and Eddie. No? No giggles for that one? Fine.

Eddie just shakes his head, sour expression immovable because he knows there’s no saying no to this– it’s for charity. A dumb charity he doesn’t care about, sure, but it’s for charity and also a girl is asking him and also he is determined to not look chicken. Ronnie knows this. It’s why she keeps winning.

“Yeah, Wheeler, I’ve been known to doggy– hold this,” and Eddie pushes green Papa Smurf into Ronnie’s chest, peeling off his jacket on the ascent to the dunk tank. 

Nancy lingers by Ronnie a second, resting her forehead against her clipboard. 

“Oh, thank god. We might actually make our donation target–like, everybody’s gonna want to drown him.”

A beat. Nancy raises her permed head, glances toward Ronnie.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, I get it.”

Nancy flutters on by, muttering something like a thanks and a good luck and an I really hope he can swim. 

Now, to his credit, Eddie makes for a pretty great picture of defiance as he straddles the plank, still fully dressed in his Hellfire shirt (Ronnie’d call nerd, if she wasn’t also wearing hers) and his shredded up jeans. Then it occurs to her that he may not have completely disrobed because he’s not wearing underwear. And that’s disgusting. Moving on.

Ronnie lets him have it, for a while anyway. Nancy was onto something– an alarmingly hefty line of would-be dunkers start to gather, everyone from cheerleaders to underclassmen trying to prove something. Not to side with the idea of gender conformity or whatever, but the couple of cheerleaders that step up to the mark don’t quite throw hard enough to hit. The sophomore that follows them is thrown off his game immediately when Eddie pretend-lunges at him, devil horns at the ready. 

Gareth, their newest freshman recruit and Ronnie’s personal drum mentee, sidles up beside the tank to hype up his fearless (pffft) leader. 

“Doin’ pretty good up there, Eddie!”

Loud enough for Ronnie to hear, Eddie hollers, “Piece of fuckin’ cake, freshman…” 

“Gareth…” he mumbles.

“...I’m gonna be bone dry ‘til the end of this shift.”

Well, y’know, so like, he asked for it. 

Ronnie tosses their hard won stuffies to the side and elbows a couple of basketball players out of the way. Cue watch it, freak!, yadda yadda, who cares, give her the ball!

“That’s what the last girl who hooked up with you said, right?” Ronnie bats to Eddie, stretching her arms above her head like a pitcher. 

If she’s not mistaken, he’s relieved to see that she’s cut the basketball boys (who’ve got much more experience tossing balls than she does) out of the way. 

“Ecker, I’ve seen you in gym class! You throw like an amputee! Bring it!”

Again, he asked. So Ronnie goes ahead and winds up. 

Eddie, in all of his your ass should have learned by now have you not been watching do you not see the signs ego, turns to Gareth. 

“See, Ronnie doesn’t seem like much of a girl but she does throw like o–”

Boom! And the metalheads goes down into the murky depths, not unlike Gareth’s DnD character that Eddie so mercilessly merked at the last Hellfire session. Ronnie doesn’t hold back a cackle, seeing Eddie resurfacing like a drowned river rat and spluttering. 

“Ffflfpfpfl! Fluke! That was a flu–” he jabs a finger through the mesh to something behind Ronnie’s head, “Wheeler, that was a fluke throw!” 

“Is he floating? Oh, good.” Oh. Nancy’s back. Nancy’s back and she’s watching Ronnie. Oh. Oh that’s… Ronnie makes the grave error of glancing over her shoulder to see Nancy grinning, clipboard bound to her chest. “She’s got two more to prove it, Eddie.” 

“Just take the–” Eddie struggles to make it back to the plank, sodden clothes and all that shit, “Just take the ball because she’s not gonna get–”

Bullseye! See, that’s how you don’t choke in front of a pretty girl and all the rest of your classmates, dude, you just wind it up and get it done! Ronnie’s buzzing with a touch more adrenaline now, and it’s going straight to her mouth. 

“Come again, water boy?!”

“Water boy?” Eddie babbles once he floats upward again, struggling under the weight of, I don’t know, his waterlogged hair to straddle first position.

“‘Cuz you’re wet.”

“Not your best. Not your b–”

Not even a full sentence out and Ronnie’s put him back under again. Hello. Why has she never tried out for softball. Would that be too obvious. This is kind of making her wacky, a little.

“What was that, Munson? Whawassat?” Ronnie stomps as the poor bastard tending to this wretched machine helps a soggy Eddie back onto dry land. “Couldn’t hear you over the sound of women’s rights! Can I hear it for women’s rights?! … Ladies?” 

Zero response. Crickets. Nancy Wheeler’s even disappeared. 

Scooping up their stuffed creatures, Ronnie’s shoulders sag– and she narrowly gets out of the way of Eddie, who’s racing towards her, helicoptering his soaked hair. 

“Don’t be– don’t be shaking your Lassie locks at me like some damn dog! Jesus Christ… my sweater.”

“My apologies to the Gap by way of the Salvation Army,” Eddie sneers, draping a towel over his head as he struggles to put his shoes on. 

“One more?” Because Ronnie’s nothing if not sympathetic, alright? Dude’s drenched. She'll let him win this one.

Squelching, Eddie nods. And just like that, to their left, shining like a beacon with a trail of suckers lined up outside…

“One more… to prove we’re not…” …staffed by a multitude of cute-as-a-button beauties…

“We’re not chicken…” …glowing with the radiant halos of fuck it, it’s summer, fuck it, it’s my senior year…

The Kissing Booth. 

Ronnie and Eddie each wear a thousand yard stare. 

Eddie, for reasons pertaining to freakdom and Ronnie, also that, but jacked up to a degree of potential social pariah. God, could you imagine? Could you imagine if she had the nerve to go completely fuck it, completely hetero-nuclear and march on up there with her dollars in quarters dug out of the couch and be like, Yeah, Tina Burton. Lay one on me. Oh, you’re switching shifts? Oh, that’s okay, I can wait… And who is that? Nancy Wheeler? Well, hell! Isn’t it just my gay lucky day!

Because Ronnie can imagine. Is imagining. 

“But I'm… I’m kinda cold.” In truth, Eddie’s kinda turning blue. That September chill is starting to set in, finally… so it’s back to the parking lot they go. 

“And I’m kinda hungry. You shouldn’t kiss people when you’re hungry, right?”

“No, that’s how they discovered cannibalism.”

“Right. So let’s–”

“--Big Boy Burger?”

“For the big boys, yep.”

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Come on, it's just a few questions...." Lisa asked her girlfriend of six months, Hannah. Both were trans and hit it off immediately at a party, although Lisa seemed a bit too into social media for Hannah's liking sometimes.....

"But in front of all your followers? This is super embarrassing."

"It's not ALL of them, dummy.... just ten thousand or so."

"That's not much better!"

"Please? Come on. I promise it'll be fun!"

"OK....." Hannah pouted, looking at Lisa. "Is this some online quiz thing?"

"It's gone a bit viral..... So, first question. You answer, then I will! If you were offered a million dollars to detransition, would you?"

"What!? Um.....!!! No--well, could I retransition?"

"You have to totally detrans, though. Get your boobs removed, go through male puberty all the way, facial hair, deep voice, everything! Soooo, would you?"

"Ummmmm..... n-no! I wouldn't!"

"Really? I would.... no hesitation."

"Oh? Well you can have fun being a boy then." Hannah laughed.

"Mmmm, question two. If your family sat you down and said they want you to detransition asap, that they decided you should live as a boy, would you?"

"Ummmm, I mean.... my parents convinced me to start transitioning in the first place! My mom was pushing me to like the idea of being a girl since forever. If my mom really wanted me to be a boy.... I just don't see that happening!"

"Oooo, avoiding the question? I would. Of course. If my daddy told me, 'Pumpkin, you have to shoot that girly body of yours with T and become a man. Stop being a pervy girl already and just embrace manhood.... I'd SO do it.' I bet you would, if your mom and dad asked real nicely."

"Well.... maybe. It could be kind of fun I guess. I've always wanted my cock to be really big."

"Me, too! It sucks having such a tiny cock...."

"And, I mean..... my boobs gave me such bad dysphoria, by nineteen I had to get a reduction! Mine are so small now but I actually kind of want to go smaller....."

"Me, too! I never knew you got a reduction.... I thought I saw scars! Mmmmm, how big were they from all that estrogen mommy made you take?"

"I was a KK-Cup."

"Holy shit. I bet they were bigger than your head! Mine were a HH-Cup and it was unmanageable. I hated having such big boobs, always bouncing around and falling out of everything and--"

"They'd constantly be sweaty, like all the time. Bleh!"

Lisa laughed. "For real. I think you should go smaller, too. Maybe totally flat? I wanna get mine trimmed down from this still waaaay too big B-Cup to the smallest A possible. Was mommy upset when you got rid of those massive juggs of yours?"

"Not really..... I told her how dysphoric they made me feel. She understood and talked me into a C-Cup. I..... wanted to go flat right away."

"Mmmm, how many girls wanna go that small? And you want a big cock?"

Hannah blushed. "It's just a fantasy of mine...."

"Next question.... you get a new doctor and he doesn't renew your hrt. He puts you on testosterone and steroids to help bulk you up. Do you thank him, or tell him to get lost, and look for a new doctor?"

Hannah bowed her head. "I dunno..... if he really thought I shouldn't be transitioning..... I might just thank him and try out male puberty...."

"Oooo, good answer. Me, too! I'd fan myself and praise him for being so honest with poor, confused little me."

"My cock is so hard right now....." Hannah whispered.

"So's mine. All two inches of it....."

"Hey, lucky! I'm only one inch...."

"I bet you wish it was fourteen or fifteen inches, thick as your wrist!"

"Duh! I'd love to have one that big.... that's normal for a trans girl to say, right?"

Lisa giggled. "Suuuure.... OK. Last question. If your boyfriend told you to throw out your estrogen and start T injections, that you have to obey him and be a good boy, would you?"

Hannah moved in closer to Lisa, feeling up her thighs to her waist. "Well, of course I'd have to obey him. What kind of partner would I be if I didn't?" Both soon-to-be-boys started making out, ready to fuck before Lisa ended the stream, waiting to surprise Hannah later with their new prescriptions.....

[sadistic-kiss]

Top ten fave fics on ao3? ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Oooo this is tough because I used to read without logging in because I forgot my password lol. But here are some I really like. Beware of the red ones they are dark. Orange is kind of dark but not super dark.

(JJK but it’s not finished Q-Q. A bit dubious so be careful. Reader x Various Jjk men) Father's Perfect Little Girl

Their sidekick (Read this before I even watch MHA lol) This one is pretty dark. Bakugou x Kirishima x reader complete

Heavy Burdens GojoxUtahime (loved it wish there was more) complete

the wolves (Attack on Titans) dark… but also not so dark? I dunno. Eren x Reiner x Mikasa complete

Your Only Purpose (MHA A friend had sent me this one and I loved it thanks @wenumsmol ) dark… but sometimes not so dark. It’s very muddy in this one due to omegaverse) Bakugou x Kirishima x reader complete

Asmodeus (Attack on Titans) mmmm dark… but then alright at the end lol. Eren x Mikasa complete

fresh spring, summer's grave (i loved you) (Toji x Reader) I’m going to be so honest it was light then dark but I cried at the end because I’m stupid and don’t understand that bad man=bad man and I shouldn’t be rooting for bad man XD complete

Blackmail (Sukuna x Reader) complete

baby's breath Levi x Reader x Erwin (This one is darrrrrk) still ongoing

the four doors (JJK- Toji x Utahime) pretty dark… and it’s not finished so I cry Q-Q

Bonus:

Chained (Sukuna x Reader). I found this story the other day and didn’t see the discontinued in the summary XD. So I read it then go to the end and cried. So that’s why I didn’t put it up top because it is discontinued but it was real dark. Like really really dark and gruesome lol.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Common Grounds / Chapter 8

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: PIV sex, morning sex (kinda), food mention, soft!Marcus, and... What's this? A sprinkling of PLOT?

Summary: The morning after.

A/N: If you saw this go up earlier, NO YOU DIDN'T. My brain is mush and it was half-finished with an entire scene missing in the middle. Please read THIS VERSION if you managed to catch the earlier posting.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you wake up, you don’t understand why your neck aches so much. It takes you a few moments to realize that you feel asleep at such an awkward angle because your head is squished into Marcus’s shoulder, rather than resting on your own pillow.

Marcus.

You suck in a breath as awareness rushes back to you. Marcus Pike is in your bed.

The man in question stirs when he feels you move, a soft, low noise in his throat as he shifts onto his side and gently pulls you close. His lips brush your forehead, and you let out a content sigh.

“What time is it?” Marcus murmurs.

“Dunno,” you mumble. “Still dark.”

You shift against him, and you feel his cock, already hard, against your body.

“Sorry,” Marcus rumbles with a smile in his voice. “Hazard of waking up.”

“Mmmm,” you hum and shift again, more purposefully this time. “I like it.”

Marcus chuckles deep in his throat, and guides you to turn onto your other side so that he’s spooning you. He kisses your neck as he pulls you flush against him, one of his large hands splaying against your rib cage just underneath your breasts. 

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Yes?” Marcus repeats.

“Yes–again,” you entreat. “Please.”

“Good,” Marcus chuckles, “I was hoping for an opportunity to be less rough.”

He spits on his hand and gently runs his fingers up and down your folds, making you inhale shakily.

“I liked it,” you whisper.

“I did too,” Marcus says lowly. “But as it turns out–” he breaks off with a little exhale as he notches himself at your entrance, “–there are a thousand ways I want to give you this cock, and I’m not gonna be satisfied until I’ve done them all.”  

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of him sliding against your walls. 

“F-Feel free to elaborate,” you quip, unable to keep the waver out of your voice as Marcus seats himself deeply, so deeply within you. 

Marcus chuckles again, rocking his hips, moving in sync with you, a slow and sensual dance that has you panting immediately. 

“So many ways,” Marcus repeats, his voice low and dark. “Wanna give it to you hard and fast until you can't speak, and I want to go so slow that you beg me for more,” he whispers in your ear, causing sparks to shoot up and down your spine. “I want to put you on your knees and watch your ass bounce as you take me, wanna fuck you against the wall in the shower…"

"Marcus," you whimper.

"Shhh, I'm not done," he teases. "I want you to straddle me on the couch, watch your perfect tits bounce in my face as you ride me. Wanna–fuck," he gasps as your pussy clenches involuntarily around him. "Wanna hold you in my lap while you keep my cock warm, and I want to fill you up and watch it drip out–"

"I want that too," you gasp. "All of it, but–ah!–I want you to come in me," you tell him. "I'm on birth control, I–I want to feel you."

"Oh yeah," Marcus groans. "I will, but you first, okay honey? You gotta come for me first."

“I–more, I-I need–” you babble, and with a little growl that goes straight to your pussy, Marcus shifts his weight, pressing you down, down, down, until you’re lying on your stomach with Marcus on top. 

You keen into the pillow at the change in angles. Marcus is pushing down, hitting something that immediately makes everything tighten around his cock. He works his hand underneath you and presses his fingers against your clit.

“You need it harder?” he rasps in your ear.

“Yeah,” you manage to gasp out. “H-Hard–”

Marcus’s other hand grips underneath your shoulder for leverage as he gives you exactly what you asked for. You sob and hang on, your fingers digging into his forearm as you clamp down around him over and over. 

“Never gonna get tired of that,” Marcus laughs breathlessly while you twitch with aftershocks. “You feel so good around me.”

“Then show me,” you tease him. “Fill me up.”

“Fuck,” Marcus groans loudly. “Shit, that will end it fast.”

“Fuck me full,” you simper with a devious smile. “Deep. Make me yours.”

Marcus makes a strangled, garbled noise–it isn’t really a word, nor is it a moan–and shoves himself flush against you, as deep as he can get as he finishes. 

“Shit–naughty, perfect girl,” Marcus is chuckling as he peppers kisses across your shoulder blade. “You did that on purpose.”

You laugh joyfully, loving Marcus’s playfulness in the bedroom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He nips the skin at the nape of your neck in retribution. “I hadn’t intended it to be over so soon.”

He pulls out and rolls back onto his side, not allowing you to slip from his arms, and settles back on the bed with a sigh.

“I thought you said you were going to be less rough,” you tease, your eyes already beginning to slip closed again.

“Wasn’t I?” Marcus pouts playfully. “At least until the end, there.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree tiredly. Caged in his arms, you fall asleep quickly.

When you wake up again to the sun streaming into your bedroom window, Marcus is gone.

—------------------------------------------

In the millisecond that it takes you to begin to panic, you hear the soft clatter of a pan in your kitchen. Slowly, you let out a breath. Looking around the room, you realize his pants are still on the floor, anyway. 

You shake your head, laughing at yourself and dispelling the split-second of terror.

Silly. Marcus wouldn’t leave.

Getting up, you throw on a shirt and pad softly into the kitchen, not knowing what to expect when you get there. 

Whatever you had expected, the sight of Marcus at your stove in just his boxers and a plain white t-shirt that stretches deliciously over his shoulders exceeds your wildest dreams. Jack Johnson is playing softly over the speaker on his phone, and…

“Are you cooking?” you ask in disbelief.

Startled, Marcus whirls around, a brilliant smile spreading across his face when he sees you standing, confused, behind him. 

“Good morning,” he says brightly.

“Good… morning,” you answer. “What–what are you–”

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says, a little bashfulness creeping into his expression.

Your brow furrows. “I do, but I didn’t think I had any pancake mix.”

Marcus shrugs. “Just need flour, sugar, baking powder, milk, butter, and eggs. All of which you had.” Suddenly, he seems hesitant and unsure. “I hope you… don’t mind.”

“Mind?” you parrot dumbly. “Marcus, you’re making me pancakes.”

“I usually put vanilla in them too, but I didn’t want to, uh, presume too much,” he says with a little half-smile, “and use up any expensive ingredients.”

“Marcus,” you say again, starting to laugh at the whole situation. “You’re making me breakfast. From scratch.”

“Well, yeah,” he says, sounding slightly affronted. “I mean–why wouldn’t I?”

“I can’t believe you’re a real person,” you joke. 

Marcus’s smile starts to fade, replaced with trepidation. “Is it too much? Honestly. You can… you can tell me if it’s too much.”

You immediately shake your head, walking up to him until the two of you are touching and you’re looking up into his soulful brown eyes. “No,” you assure him softly. “No, it’s not too much. I’ve just never–no one’s ever done this, and–”

Your eyes flutter closed as Marcus cups your cheek with his warm palm. “The way I see it, you take care of me every morning–and everyone else, for that matter–and it’s high time I return the favor.” His lips gently brush your forehead, and an embarrassing whimper escapes your lips at the tenderness. 

“Coffee?” he asks softly, his lips still brushing your skin.

“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

Accepting the steaming cup gratefully, you smile as the song switches over to ‘Better Together.’

“Jack Johnson, huh?”

“I get that ‘Banana Pancakes’ song in my head whenever I make them,” Marcus admits with a laugh. 

“I don’t have any bananas.”

“I know, I checked,” he says with a grin. “Next time, maybe.”

Next time. 

While you’re still processing the idea that Marcus wants to do this again, the man in question turns back to the stove and flips the pancake over in the pan before transferring it onto a plate and handing it to you.

“Wow,” you intone softly. “This is–thanks.” 

“It’s not a problem,” Marcus says with a soft chuckle, grabbing his own plate and cup of coffee and sitting down at your little kitchen island. 

You moan exaggeratedly at the first bite of pancake. “Marcus, holy shit. I don’t think I can ever buy boxed mix again.”

“Next time I’ll wake you up and we can make some together,” he says with a smile. “I can’t believe I get to teach you a recipe.”

“I’d like that,” you tell him quietly?”

“Yeah? We could do it next week, or uh… tomorrow, or–” Marcus trails off, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Whenever,” you murmur, smiling so wide it hurts. “Open invitation.”

“Good to know.” “I mean, you are my boyfriend, after all.”

“That’s true,” Marcus says with mock-seriousness. “I think we should celebrate by spending the day together.”

“Is that right?” you tease.

“Oh, absolutely,” Marcus answers with a glint in his eye. “But first–I have to admit, I’ve been staring at your little studio all morning.”

“My… my studio? Marcus, that’s a pile of paintings in the corner. It can hardly be classified as a studio.”

“I’ve been so tempted to look, but wanted to have your permission first. May I?”

Stunned into silence, you shrug, shake your head, and gesture weakly toward the “studio”–a paint-stained easel in the corner, surrounded by canvases.

“Yessss.” With a goofy pump of his fist, Marcus jumps up immediately and rushes over to it as if he’s a giddy art student.

You can’t help but laugh at his excitement, and the slight discomfort of having someone else in your space, scrutinizing your hobbies, your work, your life, melts away. It’s Marcus. It surprises you how comfortable you feel being vulnerable around him.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of art,” he remarks.

“Yeah, well, painting is my stress relief, so I paint more than I could ever sell.” 

Nodding, Marcus starts thumbing through the canvases, smiling at each new painting he uncovers.

Self-conscious of the haphazard piles of art, paint, and brushes, you grimace. “Sorry about the mess.”

Marcus shrugs. “Don’t be. I love to see the process.”

“My process is chaos.”

“A sign of genius.”

“Hardly,” you scoff. 

Marcus cocks his head to the side, a little crease on the bridge of his nose as he continues to look at your workspace, and doesn’t reply.

“...What?” 

Marcus blinks rapidly. “N-Nothing. I just, uh, thought of something. A–A work thing.”

“A work thing,” you repeat skeptically.

“A solution to a problem I’ve been having,” turning to look at you, he asks, “Have you ever done any exhibitions?”

“N-No, why–” 

“Would you like to?”