#i have to sing it every goddamn time

[to-thelakes]

IT JUST OCCURED TO ME SPOTIFY WRAPPED SEASON IS NEARLY UPON US

[yellowheartz]

Tiktokers out there having the most wildest family lore out there while my family lore has all the sweetest and most beautiful poetic shit ever.

[gon-and-killuas-mother]

thinking about how my middle school choir teacher had us 12-14 year old girls sing Santa Baby..... and the version we sang had a solo at the beginning going "Mister Claus, I feel as though I know ya. So you won't mind if I should get familiah, will ya?"

thinking about how i, for two years in a row, had to wear an uncomfortable dress and sing that goddamn solo. as a 13 y/o and then as a 14 y/o.

thinking about how in eighth grade this teacher decided to have a smaller group of girls in our choir dress in skimpy, hot pink dresses to dance very sensual dances as the rest of us sang on and pretended this wasn't weird as shit

what the actual fuck Mrs. Walker-Wheeler????

[kuiinncedes]

adfjgbak;ngajkfglkafhg

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Cállate

Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: Miguel thinks you talk too much.

S m u t. P in v, dirty talk, Miguel being mean? Cream pie, cum eating. Jfc.

Minors DNI. I'm warning you 😤

It's not that he hated you.

Miguel O'Hara could never hate you. You just annoyed him to no end. Pushed his buttons. Teased him.

"Miguelitoooo," you'd sing in that stupid tone, "you need to relax. You brood too much. Such a broody man, hmm?"

Miguelito.

The goddamn nickname drove him up the wall, though at this point he wasn't too sure if it was irritation, or the lust that's been grabbing hold of his cock lately. What was it about you that had his head spinning with a feral need to sink his teeth into your flesh? To shove his cock so deep inside you you'd be rendered speechless for once?

Fuck, you were annoying. While he was a man of few words, you spoke as if on a fucking time limit, spewing nonsense every chance you could get. Everytime he looked at you it was a rush of emotion, and he didn't know whether to punch something or grab you by the shoulders and shut you the fuck up himself with his lips.

He decided on the latter.

You sauntered into his private headquarters in that tight little suit of yours, already running your mouth a mile a minute about...something. It might have been important, but Miguel wasn't listening, too busy watching the way your hips swayed.

"Miguelito, are you listening? Or are you too busy brooding as usual?" You were looking down at your watch, pressing on a few buttons distractedly, "Honestly, I don't know how you became the brains of this operation."

You stood in front of him, such a little thing compared to his massive size, your eyes still on your watch. "Have you been ignoring Lyla?"

"I put her on do not disturb."

You snorted, finally bringing your eyes to his intimidating ones, "Oh, so I guess I'm disturbing you too, huh?"

"Always." With a grunt, Miguel snatched you by the waist, losing his patience completely. You gasped, surprised by his actions, but you smiled knowingly, looking up at him with doe-like eyes. Finally.

"A first date would be nice, Miguelito-"

"Shut up." He growled, baring his glistening fangs. "Cállate, por Dios."

He wasted no time, immediately surging forward to capture your lips, silencing you efficiently. It was a hungry kiss, sloppy, more tongues than anything else. He pulled moan after moan from you, stripping you both down in a matter of seconds before nipping at the delicate skin of your neck and shoulders.

Miguel had you up against the wall, his brute strength holding you up with ease. You quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, eyes rolling as he slid his large cock over your slippery folds.

"M-miguel," his name fell from your mouth beautifully as you held on to his broad shoulders for dear life, "Miguel, p-please."

"When are you gonna learn to shut up, hm?" He groaned, his arousal igniting from the obscene sounds of your slick cunt coating the underside of his length, "when are you gonna learn to keep your mouth shut for five seconds?" You were cock drunk already, mouth hanging open and tears threatening to fall from your pretty eyes.

"I-"

"Cállate, hermosa, just shut up and take this cock," Miguel muttered over your lips, lining his cock up carefully before nudging your pussy open with the fat head of his dick. You choked, tears finally bursting from your eyes, dampening both your faces as he held you close. Your cunt clamped down on his cock with every inch he pushed in, causing you to cry out.

"Shh, I got you, just let me in," he cooed in the most gentle way he'd ever been with you, "I know you can take this cock, mhm, así, just like that, open that pretty pussy up for me."

You moaned whorishly, your head falling back against the wall with a thump as Miguel began a merciless pace, immediately reaching the place where you needed him the most.

"Ohhh fuck, Miguel," you cried, your juices coating his thighs with every stroke of his cock as he pounded and pounded and pounded into you, "you're so d-deep." More juices leaked from your cunt, giving Miguel easier access into your slick channel.

"Quiet hermosa," he heaved, holding you tight against his merciless hips while clamping a large hand over your mouth, "don't want the others to know how good I'm fucking you, ehh?" The only sounds heard in the room were your muffled cries, his grunts, and his balls slapping against your ass as his cock slipped in and out of you.

You wanted to say something, anything really, to shove him off his high horse, but you couldn't, too far up in cloud nine to do anything but drool all over his palm and let his thick cock kiss your cervix repeatedly, bruisingly, deliciously.

"Asi, hermosa," Miguel sticks out his tongue, lapping at the salty tears streaking your cheeks, "calladita se ve más bonita, hm?" He knew you were close, he felt it in the way your pussy tightened on his cock. He kept ramming his hips into you, grunting with every stroke.

"So fucking tight," he groaned, dropping his head on your shoulder, "I imagined this so many times, stuffing you with my cock, but fuck, who knew it'd be like this?"

"M-miguel, please," you whined, ripping his hand away from your mouth, "p-please."

He pierced his fangs into your neck, and that was when the dam broke. You gushed all over his cock, eyes rolling and mouth open as you silently came. Your pussy spasmed, fluttering over Miguel's cock as he lapped up the blood beading from the tiny wound he inflicted.

"That's it," he cooed, holding you tightly in his arms as you shuddered, "that's my girl." His strokes were sloppy now, too lost in your delicious wet heat to be as precise. After a few more thrusts, he buried his head in your neck again, releasing a growl from the very pits of his stomach, deep and aggressive, as he pumped his seed inside you.

Miguel held you for a moment, the both of you catching your breath. You were like a ragdoll over him, and he chuckled, nuzzling you with his nose. He released you, letting his cock slip out. His cum ran down your leg, white and hot as he gently set you on the ground. He hummed, taking two of his large fingers and scooping up some of the mess he made between your legs before smearing it over your lips.

"Open." He commanded, and you obediently did as told, opening your mouth and curling your tongue around his digits, savoring the taste of your combined juices with lidded eyes. You moaned at the tangy taste, your hands flying to skim down the length of his chiseled abdomen.

Miguel watched you, caging you in with one arm against the wall, mesmerized at how your mouth worked over his fingers.

You looked absolutely fucked out, skin flushed, hair a mess, but most of all, quiet.

[defmaybe]

Party Police

ITZY's Shin Yuna x Male Reader

1.4k words

Sequel to Sticky

A/N: Let’s do a sequel!!! Again, I really love writing Yuna dominant lol, thanks for reading!!! Also, this one doesn't have the "definitely, maybe" line lol.

—

The plane croaks and cries as its wheels touch the runway. It slows down and turns a few times to park. Then, the seatbelt light above is gone.

—

Narita

As far as a company trip goes, this one should give you bragging rights over your friends until death. A spring trip to Tokyo–where every street and building is photogenic. The air is perfect (a bit cold, really, but it’s definitely better than your home).

Of course, it’s a reward from your generous boss, who fought the higher-ups to death for this trip. Your team’s productivity has soared under her reign, as she always brings snacks for your co-workers every single day. And with her bubbly, optimistic attitude, and such a level of competency you don’t dare to compete, they just had to approve this one-week trip at the price of a car.

The secret sessions between you two remain, well, a secret. Though, there has been a running rumor of your boss having a booty call with an employee, but you’re smart enough to play along with the wave, pulling out the ‘yeah, who could that be’ along with a few chuckles.

—

Shibuya, not so far from the crosswalk

The exit of the station has always been so busy, oh, so bustling in its nature. The chill air welcomes you to the afternoon of Shibuya. In front of you is the crosswalk—that goddamn crosswalk. You follow the wave of the people to the landmark, waiting to reach your sanctuary again.

The red stop signal flickers

1 2 3

You stride through the crowd—some holding their phones to capture the moment, some are just trying to reach their destinations as soon as possible.

You walk on the same path that you did years ago, just walking up north to your terminus, and there it is.

You open the glass door, and you feel another breeze from the air conditioners from inside blowing your face. It looks a bit cramped, but it’s definitely well-planned enough for you to see all the new albums. The first floor is mostly decorated with yellow and red–same as the big sign outside.

—

Tower Records

“Hmm, Alvvays, huh?” 

Yuna suddenly appears by your right shoulder, staring at their debut LP you’re holding.

Into your ears, she whispers, “You have a great taste, baby boy.” Her voice is breathy–hints of depth under it.

“You don’t have to leave. You could just stay here with me~” Yuna sings. Her hands are perching on your shoulder as she performs her little swaying with the hips.

“Forget all the party police. We can find comfort in debauchery~.”

With debauchery, her right hand trails down your lithe frame, down the sides, as you’re trying your best to stifle your own moan. The Alvvays disc in your hand is trembling.

“Oh, baby boy, I just wanna eat you right here, among these CDs,”—she continues—“I just wanna have you squirm, one hand holding on Antisocialites, another holding on Blue Rev.”

“M–Miss Shin, what are you s–saying? I d–don’t think it’s appropriate–”

“Shhh, baby boy, it’s not ‘Miss Shin’ here. You know the word, remember?” Yuna giggles at her own words, as you’re sweating at the fear of getting caught inside your own sanctuary. And she doesn’t let your body find its footing so firmly in the section either. She presses you forward, and you step back in response.

A B

“Say it, baby boy. Don’t keep me waiting~,” she teases. She presses you past Carly Rae Jepsen. Emotion runs high on you.

D E F G

“I–I can’t, Miss Shin. This is n–not the place.” You two are on Hatchie; she’s still without a blush. You must be fucking red as a tomato now, judging from how your whole body feels so damn hot.

I J K

Lorde. “Oh, baby boy, I know you wanna say it so, so bad. You just love being under my domination, don’t you?” 

But you can’t just give her a green light that easily, despite how much you just want her to pump your cock right here and now, in Tower Records Shibuya. There’s a matter of shame in play here. Your breaths are out of rhythm, unlike the music out of speaker right now.

M N O

“Ooh, look who it is here,”—Yuna picks up the Brand New Eyes box with both of her hands, pouting—“It’s Paramore! You… are… the only exception~. Am I your exception too?”

Fuck, why is she so irresistible?

Q R S

Taylor Swift appears in your sight on the left, along the steps back. “Y–Yes, M–M–” The thought sprouts in your head now, but you just can’t form the words. You’re, again, enchanted under her spell.

U V

Wolf Alice. “No hard feelings if you can’t say it, baby boy. I’ll just take the subway to Harajuku or somewhere else if that’s what you want, alone, without you~.”

X Y

“Y–Yes.”

“Yes… what, baby boy?”

“Yes, m–m–mommy. Y–You are my exception.” And on Z, you surrender to her.

“Good boy.” Yuna holds your hand, waking up a few butterflies inside you, before guiding you towards….

—

Tower Records’ Bathroom

“Umm, mmph, I’ve been dying to taste this cock for so long, baby boy.” And Yuna supports her point by dragging her filthy tongue along the underside of your length, glistening you with her saliva. And how can you not shudder with that? “I’d say… it’s worth the wait.”

“M–Mommy~,” you groan, eyes fluttering on top of the toilet.

What a sight. Yuna is kneeling on the floor for you in this stall, aiming to please you with her mouth. You can see her cleavage from the above, with her nipples still covered with the black bra. To ramp up the experience, she starts with taking in your whole mushroom tip with no struggle. God, she’s so good.

Her oral expertise continues to astound you, as she twirls her tongue around your tip, gathering any pre-cum leaking out.

“Hmm, I think I should do a bit more before you cum~,” she says, before diving onto the base of your throbbing length with ease.

“F–Fuck! You’re so t–tight, mommy,” you moan, and your hands are holding on to the lid with your dear life, not wanting to fall. Your head is basically leaning on the wall behind you now.

Yuna says nothing, but you can see her smiling on your shaft despite the cheeks being hollowed out to create such otherworldly suction. Fuck. She bobs her head up and down to bring you to the edge. Her gag reflex starts to make her tears welling up, but that doesn’t stop her from pleasuring her favorite employee with her mouth to his hilt.

Every movement of hers is considered, aiming to milk your cock just like she did that time with her right hand, the other grabbing you by your slutty waist—when you were nothing but a toy for her to play with. She hollows her cheeks, as said, to create such otherworldly suction. And that dreamy eye contact while she blows on your hardness, god, who wouldn’t cum within a heartbeat. 

“M–Mommy, I’m gonna cum,” you say, as your hips buck into her with her frenetic movements.

Yuna doesn’t relent her attempts, still gagging profusely on her baby boy’s needy cock. She makes this little whiny sound with every of your thrust, as the end of your digit reaches as far back as it can. Yet, she’s still determined—so fucking determined to please her number one employee. But now, you want just a bit more.

“M–Mommy, y–your tits, p–please.”

She gives in to your plea too easily, but it’s like you’d complain. She quickly discards layers of fabric until her bra is left. And after a few magic tricks of her hands, her last barrier falls off just for you. You savor in the moment of her bare breasts and the stiff nipples under your impending orgasm. Oh, what a sight.

And it’s there, your seed releasing into her throat.

“M–Mommy~,” you whimper.

Your length twitches inside her tight cavern, wanting to squeeze every drop out of you. She doesn’t let any drop leak out of her mouth either, swallowing any residue down to her stomach.

And as you finish, she has to open her mouth and stick out her tongue to show her clean cavern.

“F–Fuck, mommy, w–why, why are you so good?”

“Just for my favorite employee, baby boy.”

—

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Anna May Wong (The Thief of Bagdad, Shanghai Express)—Wong was the first Chinese American movie star, arguably the first Asian woman to make it big in American films. Though the racism of the time often forced her into stereotypical roles, awarded Asian leading roles to white actors in yellowface, and prohibited on-screen romance between actors of different races, she delivered powerful and memorable performances. When Hollywood bigotry got to be too much, she made movies in Europe. Wong was intellectually curious, a fashion icon, and a strong advocate for authentic Asian representation in cinema. And, notably for the purposes of this tournament, absolutely gorgeous.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

Anna May Wong propaganda:

"She so so gorgeous!! Due to Hollywood racism she was pretty limited in the roles she got to play but even despite that she’s so captivating and deserves to be known as a leading lady in her own right!! When she’s on screen in Shanghai Express I can’t look away, which is saying something because Marlene Dietrich is also in that film."

"SHE IS ON THE BACK OF QUARTERS also she was very smart and able to speak multiple languages and is a fashion icon on top of the acting/singing"

"Paved the way for Asian American actresses AND TOTAL HOTTIE!!! She broke boundaries and made it her mission to smash stereotypes of Asian women in western film (at the time, they were either protrayed them as delicate and demure or scheming and evil). In 1951, she made history with her television show The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong, the first-ever U.S. television show starring an Asian-American series lead (paraphrased from Wikipedia). Also, never married and rumor has it that she had an affair with Marlene Dietrich. We love a Controversial Queen!"

"She's got that Silent Era smoulder™ that I think transcends the very stereotypical roles in which she was typically cast. Also looks very hot smouldering opposite Marlene Dietrich in "Shanghai Express"; there's kiss energy there."

"Hot as hell and chronically overlooked in her time, she's truly phenomenal and absolutely stunning"

"A story of stardom unavoidably marred by Hollywood racism; Wong's early-career hype was significantly derailed by the higher-up's reluctance to have an Asian lead, and things only got worse when the Hayes code came down and she suddenly *couldn't* be shown kissing a white man--even if that white man was in yellowface. After being shoved into the Dragon Lady role one too many times, she took her career to other continents for many years. Still, she came back to America eventually, being more selective in her roles, speaking out against Asian stereotypes, and in the midst of all of this finding the time to be awarded both the title of "World's Best Dressed Woman" by Mayfair Mannequin Society of New York and an honorary doctorate by Peking University."

"Incredible beauty, incredible actress, incredible story."

"-flapper fashion ICON. look up her fits please <3 -rumors of lesbianism due to her Close Friendships with marlene dietrich & cecil cunningham, among others -leveraged her star power to criticize the racist depictions of Chinese and Asian characters in Hollywood, as well as raise money and popular support for China & Chinese refugees in the 1930s and 40s. -face card REFUSED to decline"

[sillywizardvoice]

let’s talk about bonzo. fucking asshole shit face bonzo, can’t even buy his own motherfucking house bonzo, lunchbox in comic sans frankly embarrassing goddamn blobby knockoff bonzo. i REFUSE to call that waste of space “mister” because he is undeserving of my time and respect. He’s a freak and gets paid to murder people, LIKE WORKS FOR THE FUCKING GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED KINGDOM and he STILL lives with Nigel Dickface. From the moment I had to see his ugly ass yellow eggplant-for-a-nose face during the ARG i knew he was a piece of shit and guess what? time and time again i am proven right. If I ever have to hear him and his jaundiced ass again i am going to end the episode, unsubscribe from protocol, delete spotify, and scream. I want him to die a death where he is ground up Mikaele Salesa style, or maybe has each of his stupid motherfucking orange spots popped one by one. Do not come to me with your defenses for this sickly excuse for a creature. I don’t care whether he is a bear or a twink or a twunk he is BONZO he is SHIT and i HATE HIM. Stupid cocky asshole has a goddman theme song with children singing about him WHERE DID THOSE CHILDREN FUCKING COME FROM he is ugly and i haet him. fucking illiterate piece of televised garbage i hope nigel dickenass wakes up in a cold sweat every night because he created such an abhorrent monstrosity. i hope he knows it lives in his stupid fucking house wearing a stupid fucking fedora and i hope idiot loser bonzo kills him and then kills itself. i would celebrate his death every year with a cupcake that says I HATE FUCKING BONZO.

[targaryenluvs]

OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

[dadbodbuck]

i had a bad day and then @tommystummy started talking about bucktommy arguments and this scenario came up and i latched onto it like a moray eel. please enjoy some raw, unedited tommy kinard angst

Tommy doesn't like talking about it. It being the roughly five years he worked under Captain Gerrard, alongside Howie and Hen, when he was deeply closeted and a major asshole. He can make his excuses, he can try to convey the feeling of looking into someone's eyes and only seeing your father's. He can admit to the humiliating nightmares he used to have of his father storming into the fire station and screaming at him. Neither of those are reason enough to be callous towards people who were being tortured in their own workplace.

Howie and Hen were much quicker to forgive him than Tommy was. In fact, it seemed like it only took one mumbled apology for them to shrug it all off. Water under the bridge, they had said. Just don't do it again.

And God, Tommy never did. After that, after finally taking his sexuality out of the box deep in the animal part of his brain, he told himself he would be different. He expected it to be hard, and on some level it was, but—

Tommy kissed a man for the first time (since high school) forty-eight hours after he was reassigned to the 217, quick and dirty in a bar in West Hollywood. Something in Tommy’s chest clicked into place when he heard the soft, deep moan of a nameless man wearing body glitter. He couldn’t go back even if he wanted to.

Before, he’d been afraid of this exact thing. He’d kept his hands to himself because he knew that his closet wasn’t resealable. It was one-and-done. Gerrard’s boys would have eaten him alive. But Howie and Hen wouldn’t. They didn’t.

It still took him a long time for him to tell them. They didn’t talk often, but they did keep in touch. Tommy owed them so many favors he’d probably be repaying them for the rest of his life, but they seemed more interested in just being his friend. A distant one, but a friend nonetheless.

Distance was fine. Distance was easy. Distance allowed for Tommy to keep his comfortable walls in place, even if he redecorated them a little.

It took him three months to realize how debilitating loneliness was. He was out, now, but without the close, albeit sterile and toxic, friendship of the boy’s club at the 118. Tommy longed for connection. He thrived on it. Something deep, and routine, and constant.

But nobody was volunteering. So Tommy resigned himself to his old hobbies, cars and Muay Thai and basketball, and introduced karaoke trivia to the routine, because he’d always loved singing but never had the guts to do it while he was closeted. It was nice. If anyone noticed Tommy’s near-compulsive schedule of activities, they never mentioned it. The years passed. Howie and Hen grew even more distant. Tommy liked their Facebook posts. He did their favors. He was still lonely, but he successfully put the version of himself he had been on a shelf in the deepest recesses of his brain, never to see the light of day again.

He was a good person now. He was good. He was good despite the skeletons rattling in the closet where his love used to be.

Then, Evan.

No other preamble necessary. Then, Evan. With his broad chest and blue eyes and insane, insane ideas.

Really, was Tommy not supposed to fall in love with him?

Things are great for a while. Idyllic. Peaceful, and exciting, and sweet, and so goddamn sexy, and safe. Tommy feels safe in Evan’s arms.

The problem, of course, is that Evan has this idea that he has to know every part of Tommy. All of him.

“I want to love all of you,” Evan murmurs, as a creeping sense of dread settles in Tommy’s chest, “Even the parts you don’t like.”

Tommy chews on his words, but Evan must sense something is wrong, because he props himself up on an elbow and leans over Tommy, brow scrunched in concern.

“There are parts of me that aren’t worth loving.” Tommy settles on, eventually.

He watches Evan’s heart break in real time, and it does nothing to soothe the growing irritation in his chest.

“I don’t believe that,” Evan frowns, “I think even when you were making mistakes, you were worth loving.”

Tommy huffs a dry, sarcastic laugh. “I beg to differ.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Can’t. Evan doesn’t like this. “Tom, that’s—that’s not how this works. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of you I’m allowed to love. I don’t care what it is. I love you.”

Tommy isn’t going to win this argument, so he doesn’t even try. Instead, he forces himself to relax, and sighs. “Okay. Sorry, honey.”

He can tell Evan isn’t buying it, by the disbelieving set to his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lays back down and presses a gentle kiss to Tommy’s shoulder. It feels a lot like another declaration.

“I love you too,” Tommy says, bringing one of Evan’s hands up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. Evan revels in physical touch—it’s one of his favorite love languages, although he enjoys pretty much all of them. Mostly, Tommy thinks Evan was just love-starved for a long time.

Tommy is positive beyond doubt that Evan was never like him. It takes little talking to Howie and Maddie to confirm that he’s always presented his heart on a platter, warm and bleeding for whoever wants to carry it. There’s no universe where a callous man like Gerrard would have turned Evan into what Tommy was. Evan has never been a coward.

Tommy hopes that’ll be the end of the argument, but the next day, Evan sits down on the couch and says, “I know talking about your past is painful for you, and I don’t want to force you to tell me anything.”

Tommy senses a conjunction and chooses to remain silent.

“But,” there it is, “I don’t take back what I said.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” Tommy grunts, knowing he’s closing himself off.

“Then let me say it,” Evan presses, “There is nothing in your past that would change how I feel about you.”

“You don’t know that,” Tommy says, through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what I was like to Howie and Hen when they first joined the 118. I said things I shouldn’t have. I let Gerrard and his cronies get away with even worse. I let them get hurt, and I did nothing, because I was a coward.”

Evan looks at him with big, sad eyes. “You were scared.”

“I should have done the right thing anyway,” Tommy argues, “You think Howie and Hen weren’t scared? You think they weren’t terrified? Hen got up in front of everyone and gave us this big speech about how proud she was to be gay, to be black, to be herself. And all I did was stand there with this pit in my stomach. Like if anyone looked over at me they would just know, and then I’d be a pariah. Like her.”

“Tommy,” Evan says, dismayed, “She’s forgiven you so many times over for that. Beating yourself up about it does nothing.”

“It holds me accountable,” Tommy says, “It keeps me from being that person again. I hate the person I was back then. You would have hated him, too.”

“Maybe,” Evan shrugs, like it’s just that easy, “But I try not to hate people. I certainly don’t hate my loved ones for making mistakes. And that’s what you did. Make a mistake. Now, looking back on it, I can see that version of you. That Tommy, who was afraid and in pain. I still love him.”

“Stop!” Tommy snaps, but makes no move to get away from Evan. Evan’s hand stutters, but makes its way to Tommy’s shoulder, thumb rubbing over the joint.

“I love every version of all of my loved ones,” Evan says softly, “I love the version of Bobby who almost drank himself to death. I love the version of Eddie that fought people in the street. I love the version of Chim that punched me. I love the version of Maddie that ran away from me—several times, I might add. I love the version of Hen that almost ended her own marriage when she betrayed Karen’s trust.”

There’s about thirty different stories Tommy wants to explore in there, but Evan doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “And I love the version of you that stood by and watched because he was too scared to intervene.”

Evan leans in to plant a tender kiss to Tommy’s cheek. “I love him, and I love the Tommy who was in Iraq, and I love the Tommy who was almost a high school dropout, and I love the Tommy who loved to go hiking after middle school, and I love the Tommy who was late learning how to walk but early learning how to read. It’s not hard. He’s you.”

“I don’t want him to be me,” Tommy confesses, throat tight.

“But he is,” Evan murmurs, soft and soothing in Tommy’s ear, “He’s right here. And he’s doing right by people now. He learned how to be brave. He made amends. Hen and Chim didn’t forgive you because you killed that old version of yourself, they forgave you because you made an effort.”

It’s the first time Tommy’s ever heard it phrased like this, and something about the way Evan says it makes his eyes sting. Evan pulls him into a hug, tucks his face into the crook of his neck, and lets Tommy cry. Rubs his back through it. If Tommy pretends, he could be rubbing the uniform-clad thirty-five year-old firefighter, or the fatigued back of an eighteen-year-old soldier, or the thrifted cotton tee of a middle schooler, or the just-too-tight romper of a toddler. All the Tommies that never got this, all the Tommies that desperately wanted it.

For the first time since his mother died, Tommy is held while he cries, and after nearly thirty years, something in his chest stops aching.

[sansaorgana]

benny saving you from abusive bf or dad :(

hello, love! thank you for your request 🥰 I was self-indulgent and chose an abusive dad lol proceed with caution because there is lots of physical violence / domestic abuse in this fic

requests for benny are open 🥺🎀

You were dolling yourself up for the date with Benny in your room upstairs – putting makeup on, brushing your hair, spraying perfume and singing along to the rock and roll songs you played. Perhaps a little bit too loud because you couldn’t hear the rapid footsteps approaching your bedroom. When the door opened, you got startled as you turned around to see your angry father.

“What is it?” You asked, irritated already because he didn’t knock.

He looked you up and down with contempt and pointed at the record player.

“Turn that shit down,” he barked at you. “I’ve just come back from work, I want to fucking rest, I can’t even hear the goddamn TV because of this crap! I’ve told you already that if you want to listen to this sort of music, you’re free to do so when you’re home alone!” He raised his voice and you sighed.

“I didn’t hear you coming back home, gee,” you rolled your eyes and you approached the record player but you didn’t turn the music off, just slightly decreased the volume.

“You would have heard if you weren’t listening to this! And what are you, deaf now? I’ve told you to turn that shit down,” your father grabbed you by your arm and then pushed you away.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Perhaps at this point you should be used to him being like that. But you couldn’t. To some things you just couldn’t get used to, no matter how many times they’d happen. You would never understand why your dad couldn’t treat you like his precious princess. Why was he raising you the way some other men raised their sons – some bastards, of course. Because not every son was treated like this by their father. And you were a girl treated like dirt.

The way he treated you was much more than the constant stress at home – no, that you would survive. It was going deeper. It was about the way you had this feeling deep down inside that no man could ever love and protect you because your own father couldn’t. Yeah, you were dating Benny now but you weren’t sure what his feelings towards you truly were like. Benny was not a man of many words and he wouldn’t open up – especially about his feelings.

“What are you doing, by the way?” Your father asked when you finally turned the record player down and hid the vinyl away. “You’re going out?”

“Yeah! Do I need your permission?” You snapped and he clenched his jaw.

“What’s going on here?” Your mother peeked inside the room with widened eyes, already fearing her husband’s tantrum.

“She’s going out to waste away all the money again,” he pointed at you.

“She’s an adult, it’s just a date,” your mother stood up for you.

“And I spend my own money. I work!” You reminded him angrily and went back to brushing your hair in front of the mirror, pretending everything was fine.

“Why can other young people save their money to be able to move out of their parents’ house and you just want to go out and spend money on parties all the time because apparently being a parasite is not a problem for you?!” Your father yelled and your mother started to shush him.

The accusations were so wrong. You weren’t even partying much. It was just a date with Benny and how much would you spend? Nothing, really. A few pennies for the milkshake maybe but the chances were Benny would pay for it anyway.

“She’s just going out on a date,” your mother explained to your father, trying to calm him down but it had the opposite effect. His eyes widened as his fists clenched.

“With that… That dirty… That dirty punk?!” He asked as his booming tone echoed through the walls. “Haven’t I told you, you stupid girl, I don’t want to see you around him?!”

“Dad, stop!” You hissed at the feeling of his grip on your arm again. This time he didn’t let go, no, he was squeezing and squeezing, trying to twist it.

“Stop it!” Your mother tried to intervene but he pushed her away.

“Dad, you’re hurting me!”

“It’s nothing compared to what that bastard will put you through! My daughter won’t end up like a common whore!” He was yelling and you saw the blind rage in his eyes – he was gone now, completely out of common sense, driven only by his rage and fury.

His yelling, your squealing and your mother’s crying were so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of the motorbike’s engine parking outside. Benny jumped off of his bike and leaned on it, waiting for you. But when he reached for the cigarette, he froze for a moment as he realised that the yelling noises came from the room upstairs inside your house. He glanced up and noticed that the window to your room was half open.

He hid the cigarette away and furrowed his brow.

“Dad, let go of me!” You squealed and Benny saw your silhouette in the grip of your father as he slapped your face.

“I’ve told you to shut the fuck up, both of you!” He yelled. “Congratulations,” he addressed another woman inside your room. “Your daughter is now a whore just like you, hanging out with those bums and punks and dirty fucking bikers…” He looked at you again. “You stink of them! The rotten stench on you, you’re a whore!”

Benny’s blood boiled at the scene he was witnessing. You had mentioned earlier that your father was “an asshole” but he had never expected this sort of asshole. He thought he was just mean and grumpy.

He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He approached the front door and tried to open them but they were closed. So, with one kick of his boot, he broke inside. He couldn’t care less about the fucking door.

You didn’t even hear that. All you could hear was your father’s yelling and your mother crying. Your arm in his grip, your cheeks wet from tears and stinging from his slaps. It was one of those moments when you didn’t even care whether you would live or die anymore. In fact, you wished he would just kill you and make it all stop.

You saw his hand raising again to hit you once more when the door to your room opened rapidly and you all froze, turning around to see Benny himself.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him but your father’s grip tightened even more. He blinked a few times with his mouth half open and Benny was breathing heavily with his face reddened from anger.

Before your father could act, Benny approached him and punched him in his face so hard that your father let go of you completely.

“What are you doing! Stop!” Your mother squealed and grabbed Benny’s sleeve but he ignored her to deliver one more punch – this time in your father’s guts.

He fell down to the ground and Benny was kicking him without even saying a word. He was like an animal, you thought. And your mother still cried and squealed and begged – pathetically, really. How could she defend your father suddenly? And he… He was only grunting as his face was getting bloody. You saw it all in slow motion.

Benny delivered a final kick and spat on your father before pushing your mother away gently, with a shrug of his arms.

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he drawled through his gritted teeth at your father and finally turned around to face you.

“You okay?” He asked, a hint of worry in his face as he visibly softened. You were standing there, petrified and trembling slightly. But his question finally brought you back to reality.

“Let’s get outta here,” you only whispered and grabbed his rough hand to lead him downstairs as fast as possible.

You noticed the broken door and looked at him as if he was crazy.

“Sorry,” he shrugged his arms and your heart filled with love.

No man had ever protected you like that before. No man had ever made you feel safe either. You would marry him right away if he asked.

“Don’t be,” you only said and went outside to approach his motorbike.

You both jumped on it and drove away as fast as possible. You didn’t even care where he was taking you. If you’d never go back home – you were okay with that.

But Benny took you to the club. He led you inside gently and some of the boys widened their eyes at you.

“What the fuck happened to her?” Johnny asked and squinted his eyes at Benny as if he was accusing him of something.

Benny didn’t answer and just walked you to the bathroom. He closed the door behind you and you saw yourself in the mirror. Oh, now you understood why they were giving you funny looks. You had a bruise on your cheek, your makeup was smudged from crying and your hair was ruffled.

“You okay?” Benny stood behind you to put his hands on your arms. “Hey, doll, look at me,” he asked and you looked up as you turned around.

Now, when it was just the two of you and you finally felt safe, the tension left your body and you sobbed as you clung to him. Benny wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer as he hid his face in your hair. 

“I’m sorry, kitty, I had no idea he was like that…”

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled between the sobs.

“I just can’t understand… How can a father treat his daughter like that? A little dollie like you?” Benny was in genuine disbelief. “Hey, listen, let’s fix that, hm?” He moved away slightly and started to brush your hair with his fingers but it was only making it look worse. “Ugh, shit,” he chuckled. “I’ve an idea. I’ll take you to Johnny’s. Betty will know what to do,” Benny proposed and you nodded shyly as you sniffed and wiped your cheeks from the remaining tears. “And, hey,” Benny grabbed your wrists gently to move them away from your face as he leaned in, “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again, do you hear me?” He was serious about it and you nodded.

He joined your lips together in a sweet and delicate kiss as if you were made of glass. Benny had never kissed you like that before but now he thought you needed that more than anything – the gentleness.

“I can’t offer you much, kitty, but I won’t ever do you no harm,” he promised in a whisper. “I wanna take care of you.”

His words were healing the broken pieces inside you and you felt like sobbing again. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your chest to his to feel his heartbeat.

“You’re already offering me enough, Benny,” you assured him and he kissed the top of your head, feeling the tears pricking his own eyes now but he sniffed them away.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[emchante]

soooo... the idea of a private chat with softcore porn streamer!max has been cooking in my brain..

reader is quite nervous when they check the time and see it's a couple of minutes before their scheduled call. they got new lingerie after finding out max' fav colour is royal blue to surprise him, just before max calls, reader adjusts the camera to show off everything below their face and when the call connects- max has to hold back a moan bc goddamn... how did reader know his favourite colour?

well hi there, you absolutely look ravishing.. blue, huh? you just happen to like that colour or did you plan to make me horny from the start?

my hormones are going CRAZY please send help

🩵

🩵 NONNIE!! ur always cooking up the best ideas, i’m 🫣 at reading this myself.

18+ — minors dni.

are you ready?

that’s the notification that pops up on your screen as you check the time. it’s still a couple minutes until the scheduled time, so you give yourself those last few moments to try calm your nerves.

the royal blue lingerie clings to your body in all the right ways, the fabric soft and delicate, yet daring enough to make you feel like a walking temptation. the lace cups of the bra sculpt your chest perfectly, the intricate floral patterns drawing the eye with their sheer elegance.

the panties are a perfect match— high-cut to elongate your legs, with a teasingly sheer panel across the front. the same lace detail wraps around your hips, accentuating your curves, while the satin waist and glides across your skin like a whisper.

you take a deep breath, telling max you’re ready whenever he is. you take the time to readjust your camera, making sure your full body is in frame. there’s only a peek of your head in the frame, showing max your lips and then it cuts off.

you don’t have anymore time to fix anything as the ringing begins to sing through the monitor of your pc. you reach over, hitting ‘accept call’ before you sit back, waiting for the lines to sync.

the first thing you hear from max is a gasp, watching his eyes widen as they roam over his screen, taking in every inch of you that he can see.

“well hi there,” he laughs lowly, clearly caught off guard by the sight of you. “you look absolutely ravishing,” he continues, licking his plump lips as his eyes continue to take in everything.

you blush at his words, smiling as you run your hands along your thighs, sitting properly for him. “was it worth the wait?” you ask, hands moving upwards to trail across your torso. your hands gently cup your breasts, thumbs poking at your sensitive nipples, letting out a small mewl for max.

the deep exhale and flushed cheeks is enough to tell you yes, it was worth the wait. “i’d wait lifetimes to see you, liefje,” he winks at the camera, before he sits right back against his chair. “hm.. blue though? did you just happen to like that colour, or was there another reason for it?” he asks, eyes darkening at the way your breath hitches.

“i—” is all you manage to breathe out, before a small whine escapes your throat. max smirks, realising he has the upperhand now.

“did you plan to make me horny from the get go?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to respond. “because it’s working, you know,” he confirms, moving his hand down to his grey sweatpants and oh.

you can see the outline of his erect cock through the soft fabric, and you stare at his crotch with want. not that he can see that though, but he watches the way your lips drop open, tongue running along your bottom lip.

“just the thought of you is enough to get me going, you know? the teasing you do in chat, the name-calling through donations,” he lists off, as his thumb strokes his clothed erection. “but now? seeing you like this? i don’t know how i’m going to last,” he tells you lowly, a groan escaping his throat as he squeezes himself.

“start touching yourself from the top of your body liefje, and then you can work your way down for me.”

GOOD GOD IM?? BLUSHING AT THIS?? need him sooo badly..

[kuiinncedes]

:P

[geneviveleocardius]

ellie williams and her little family

feat. JJ as your son.

ellie wakes up earlier than she needs to just to watch the two of you sleep. your baby is curled against you, tiny breaths filling the silence, and ellie swears she’s never felt luckier. she presses a soft kiss to both your foreheads before sneaking off to make coffee—muttering to herself, “i’ve got the best family in the goddamn world.”

ellie’s playfulness comes out full force when it’s just her and your son. she makes silly faces, stacks blocks into wobbly towers just to knock them over, and sings little songs (badly, on purpose) that make your kid laugh so hard it’s contagious. when you find them like that, she grins at you and says, “told you he likes my singing more than yours.”

ellie isn’t always great at being emotional, but seeing you with your son makes something deep in her chest ache in the best way. sometimes she’ll hug you from behind while you’re holding him, pressing her cheek to yours as she whispers, “you’re both my whole world, you know that?”

ellie’s always watching out for both of you. she’s not paranoid, but her eyes constantly scan your surroundings, especially when you’re outside. she’s got that sharp look, but the moment you or your son need something, it softens into pure affection.

ellie swears up and down that your son’s first word will be “mama” for her. she’s relentless, repeating it to him like a chant while grinning at you smugly. when he finally babbles it for the first time, she fist-pumps like she’s won a championship: “hell yeah, that’s my boy!”

ellie loves dinner time—whether it’s a mess or perfectly peaceful. she’s the one who makes airplane noises while feeding him or sneakily hands him a cookie when you aren’t looking. when you call her out, she’ll smirk and shrug, “c’mon, babe, look at his face. he’s got my puppy eyes.”

sometimes, all three of you end up on the couch. your baby’s snuggled on ellie’s chest, and she strokes his hair absentmindedly while her other hand holds yours. her voice is low and soft as she murmurs, “i never thought i’d have this. you two are everything.”

ellie never stops teasing you, even as a parent. she’ll joke, “you’re the strict one, i’m the cool mom—he’s gonna like me more when he grows up.” but later that night, she pulls you close and whispers, “you’re such a good mom. i hope he grows up to be like you.”

ellie’s favorite part of the day is tucking your son in with you. she’ll sit by his crib, strumming her guitar and humming softly while you lean on her shoulder. when he’s finally asleep, she smiles at you, warm and content. “we’re doin’ pretty damn good, huh?”

even with a baby, ellie makes time for you. whether it’s quick kisses in the kitchen or holding your hand during a late-night walk, she reminds you every day how deeply she loves you. “you gave me a family,” she says one night, pressing a kiss to your temple. “i’ll spend my whole life loving both of you.”

[86espresso]

dancing is a dangerous game ⋆.˚ ★—ONE

(au masterlist)

SUM ; he did not 🙅‍♀️ wrap it before he tapped it

WARNINGS ; finding out that you’re pregnant, whole lot of awkward talking bc that’s what I’m best at 👍, mostly humor, zegras is jobless, fluff, oc character (readers bsf), kissing? allusions to sex, drinking, anxiety

NOTES ; first fic we ball 🙂‍↕️

WC ; 2.3k

“Your place, or mine?”

Your place or mine?

Your place or mine.

Jack Hughes wishes he was cool enough to say it the way his older brother did, but unfortunately, he was not that gifted. Matter of Quinn being more articulate and approachable.

The only times Jack actually got some was when a girl approached him, or when they were done with the whole third date thing.

Tonight, he decided he would telepathically flirt with you by staring across the room. To him, this is the most effective form of flirting. You’d have to catch his eyes eventually.

Your hair was wild, eyeliner smudged and lipstick blotted, the thrill and the alcohol had you dancing and singing and acting lively, he immediately needed to know you better.

Judging by your energy and the way you sang along to every single song made him believe you might be a fun person to hang out with outside of having you in his bed.

God, he’s already formed a false version of you in his head.

Jack winced, feeling Trevor’s razor of an elbow poking at his rib.

“Literally just talk to her, bro.”

Jack stood there blinking and watched as Trevor switched out their drinks, giving him the stronger one out of the two. He covered his rib before Trevor could bruise it again.

“Christ, don’t do that. I can’t just go up to her and talk. Look at her.”

Trevor looked. He didn’t really see much besides a pretty girl getting shitfaced. He just shrugged and made Jack chug the strong drink, ordering two more for him to push him further.

The rest of was bits and pieces in Jack’s memory. He did, indeed, get as shitfaced as you. He remembers you coming over after noticing his gaze, resting your head on his shoulder (he nearly shat his pants), taking a sip out of his shot glass boldly and telling him that you liked it. That may have been a life altering experience for him; he thanked whichever god he pleased enough to deserve this.

The alcohol messed up his memory a bit; but he remembers your lips on his neck in the cab, his lips on your hipbones, and the warmth of your body close to his right before he drifted to sleep.

And now, it’s morning. He’s cold, alone, heavily disoriented, and doesn’t know his own name.

He realized he doesn’t know your name either, and came to the disappointing realization that you hadn’t even left a note with your number before making your departure. With a frown, he realized he would probably never see you again.

[•••]

“There again? I thought you’d give up by now, buddy.”

Jack knew that Trevor knew that he was borderline desperate to meet you again, but it still made him indignant; he did not need to call him out.

“I just think it’s a fun place, Z. Doesn’t mean I’m going there for someone specifically.” He busied himself with the chips aisle, looking for the one weird flavor he’d been wanting. He could feel Trevor’s eye roll at the back of his head.

Yes, it’s been two goddamn months since that night.

Yes, he’s been suspiciously frequenting the bar since then.

No, there is no correlation between those events and you.

Trevor opened his mouth again, but that’s when they heard two voices arguing in the aisle next to him. Jack turned around and raised a brow at Trevor, a silent invitation to eavesdrop. He, of course, took the bait.

Now, when Trevor and Jack say they hate drama, they mean they hate being involved in it. Other people’s drama, however? They’re watching like hawks.

“Winnie, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Female. Familiar.

“But it’s only fair.” Female. Unfamiliar. “It’s that man’s fault his condom was too big either way! Plus, if he’s the fath—”

“The condom was too small of anything—”

At that moment, Jack moved a little too close to the rack of salsa dip, and rattled it hard, loudly enough for the ladies to pause their conversation. He cussed under his breath, hoping they would assume he just got there. He tried to ignore Trevor’s attempt at stifling his laugh.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” You turn around the corner, and of course: It’s you, and Jack is elated.

He looks genuinely happy. You look like you just watched someone get skinned alive.

You immediately turn around, trying (and failing) to pretend like you didn’t see him. “Oh my god—Winnie, this is the guy. Save me.” You whisper desperately, watching Jack quickly fix the salsa dips in the corner of your eye before he turns to you fully.

“You—uh.” The words just won’t come out.

Trevor tried to save him. “Hi, im Trevor.” He sticks out his hand which you take. “You must be my one night stand-in law.” He grins.

Your eyes shift between him and Jack. “You’ve slept with him too?”

His hand goes limp in yours as Winnie graciously snorts with laughter. Luckily, that catches Trevor’s attention and he moves to greet her.

Jack decided, in that moment, that he just short circuited seeing you in sweatpants and a hood covering your head with strands of hair peeking out to frame your bare face. A contrast to when he first saw.

“Well, h-how have you been?” You ask awkwardly, wishing you could drop dead right about now.

“Pretty good. Yourself?” He leans gently against the shelf and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve been alright.” You laugh weekly and bring your hand up to rub your tired eyes; sleep was a privilege nowadays. You were about to indicate that you had to leave before stopping short at Winnie glaring holes in the side your face, knowing that your chances of escaping were gone and she wouldn’t let down until you told him. Winnie smiled warmly and turned to Jack, sticking her hand out.

“You must be Drew.”

“Jack.” He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking her hand. “That actually sounds nothing like Drew—”

“Oh, fuck, don’t worry about it, it was just a random name we ran with.” You laugh again, fiddling with the boxes in your hands.

Jack desperately wanted to say something like ‘you’ve talked about me?’ but it was clear that you were trying to avoid him like the plague, so he refrained from ruining his chances to talk to you any further.

Winnie whispered something to Trevor which made his eyes comically widen, then they pretended to busy themselves with the shelves of chocolates.

“You look nice.” Jack smiled, you really did look pretty. Tired, probably a little sick, but pretty. “Like, glowing-”

“Jesus, please, not a glow.” You groan, putting your face in your hands. Jack’s gaze drops to the boxes you were holding.

“What are those?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Him noticing was the final nail to the coffin. It made your situation real-er than ever.

With a supportive glance from Winnie, and a deep inhale, you look at Jack again. Into those pretty, azure eyes that drew you to him in the first place.

“Pregnancy tests?” You say meekly, though it sounded more like you were asking. You hated how weak it sounded. “Look I don’t even know if I even am pregnant—”

The salsa dip rack shook again as Jack held on to it. “Oh—”

“Listen, look,” you move closer to him, “you can literally never see me or the kid, if it exists, ever again. I’m financially stable and I have lots of friends here that support me, so—”

“Wait, you’re sure it’s mine?” His voice felt like an echo to himself.

“Uh—yeah. That’s part of the reason I left, I’ve never exactly done one-time things. And I only knew you for that one night, so I kind of panicked. Being with a stranger.” You fumble with the boxes again, your anxiety peeking because even though you shouldn’t care, his lack of response was stressful.

He seemed to notice that, because next thing he was putting both of his hands on your shoulders. It was weird but made you feel a little calmer.

“Hey—it’s not like I’m upset with you or anything, okay? I—uh, think you—we should first make sure you are pregnant.” He loosens his hold a bit and steps closer. “And if you plan on keeping it, I want to be there. For you and the kid, I mean. Stick around, y’know? I can’t imagine life without my dad.”

His sentiment made you heavily emotional; this was kind of intimate for people who barely knew each other, but intimacy is how you ended up here anyway.

You sniffle, nodding. You weren’t exactly sick, but you weren’t feeling your best.

Jack felt his heart go soft and he hugged you, enveloping you in much needed warmth. When you wrapped your arms around him, you caught Winnie’s eye over his shoulder and were sure of a few things;

One, If you were having a baby, you’re keeping it. You’re still young, but you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, even if it was with a father you knew better. Your support system was very fortunately intact, even without Jack.

And two, you were sure that Jack would keep his promise of ‘sticking around’.

[•••]

“So, like, what do you do?” Jack’s head snapped up to meet Winnie’s sharp gaze.

The four of them had just walked into your apartment and you locked yourself in the bathroom with the tests. Winnie and Trevor hit it off immediately but she was still skeptic of Jack.

“Hm?”

“Your job? Wait, don’t tell me you don’t—”

“I have a job.” Jack rolled his eyes “I play.” He replied shortly, his head still spinning.

“Play? Fuck does that mean? Like poker, the guitar, or what?” Winnie squinted her eyes. “If I catch anything weird about you, you’re out.” Jack didn’t miss the way Trevor grinned stupidly at her.

“I play hockey. Professionally. Just 20 minutes away, in Jersey.” Jack huffed, he didn’t like the added stress of appealing to your best friend.

“Hm. Interesting, can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Drew—”

“Jack—”

“Hold on.” She typed something on her phone and turned it to him. “Is this you?” It is Jack’s instagram profile, so he nods. She scrolls through his following and quirks a brow, “your following looks like you just graduated from a private, all-girls high school.”

Jack doesn’t even know what to say to that, much less what it means, so he just stays quiet before the bathroom door unlocks.

“Winnie, 3 minute timer, please,” you say, drying your hands on a towel, eyeing the five tests lined up on the counter face down. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the anxiety crawl back up your spine.

You let yourself relax at Jack’s soothing back rubs, and observe quietly for a moment while he scowled at whatever Winnie and Trevor were making fun of him for. His jawline is just barely peppered with stubble and he smells really nice. You can see why he was the choice that night.

Jack is quick to look back at you, having to tilt his head slightly downwards as he catches the expression on your face.

“It’s going to okay,” he mouths.

And when you flipped over every test to see that you had a real life shit-machine growing inside of you, you believed him.

[•••]

Jack got off the phone with his mother with a small breath of relief. The hundreds of insecurities that initially made their way through his head were overshadowed by a feeling of happiness; his mother was quick to assure him that it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

Winnie was kneeling in front of you on the couch, trying to be comforting. Or something like that.

“Kill that thing.”

“Winnie, what the hell?”

“Babe, you have work! You have other things to do! And—” she lowered her voice, “—Drew might not be around that much to help.” She straightened again. “If you really want to keep it then it’s up to you, though.” She added softly.

You appreciated Winnie’s outlook on your situation, but that wasn’t what you needed because you were really, genuinely, sure you were keeping the kid.

“For the third time, it’s Jack. Why—?”

“I’m sorry, she’s just like that.” You speak up, finding the small frown on Jack’s face rather endearing. “What—uh, what did your mom say?”

“She wants to meet you. She’s happy.”

“That’s really sweet.” You say with a yawn, exhausted from the days events. Jack’s mother seems nice, but you were too tired to feel scared of her at the moment.

Jack notices that you were tired and nudged Trevor so they leave, but not before everyone exchanged numbers.

[•••]

The next available weekend Jack’s mom could come over was in two weeks. Which meant he had to keep the little secret from everyone around him. Well, except Trevor.

Jack could feel himself already growing protective of his..son? daughter? Still, it was just insane to him that he was going to have a child. His own child.

He can handle the scrutiny, but he was afraid for you and how you would have to deal with all of the outside pressure.

He shrugged off the thoughts, chugged the rest of his beer, and decided to just sleep on it.

Waking up after a good rest, Jack realized he was more excited than anything. Who cares what people say? He’s always wanted kids and off the top of his head, he doesn’t know anyone better than you that he would have them with.

He’ll just have to be really impressive and devoted to gain your trust.

And that’s what he was going to do.

[hotvintagepoll]

Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]