#i still can't function properly and i don't think i ever will

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

gif by: @pedropcl

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: your thoughts are now consumed by joel. you cannot function properly without him nearby.

warnings: MINORS DNI. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], dumbification, toxic attachments, joel is SO fucking manipulative, aftercare (very late), cuddle fingeriinnggg, slow making out, finger sucking, pussy pronouns, joel "just the tip" miller, bare pussy grinding, spit as lube cause he's a nasty man, joel is also a scary man

wc: 6.7k

notes: my depraved baddies, we're getting closer and closer to the enddddd. also, virginity is a social construct. i understand that someone can still "lose their virginity" from fingering, BUT THIS IS FICTION. IGNORE IT. AND ENJOY IT. PLEASE. 🥺🥺🥺

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There has never been a time in your life when you felt truly alone. You always had your close group of friends, with whom you spent time nearly every other day, having a great time. You also had social media to keep you busy during times of boredom. Regretting not making the most of those two makes you feel foolish. That's all you'll ever be; a foolish little girl. Joel was right. You're nothing without him. You need him. You need his guidance to navigate the harsh realities of the world. Losing your only two means of escape is forcing you to face revelations you're not ready for. You're not prepared for adulthood, not just yet. At this moment, you feel utterly alone.

Minutes pass as you shuffle on your feet behind Joel, gazing at the back of his head while he sits at the kitchen table. He was considerate enough to leave your door unlocked, granting you the liberty to wander around the house, yet ensuring the front and back doors remained closed and locked. "Can't trust you going out alone anymore," he had said to you earlier today. His reasoning was fair. You had acted recklessly, and now you're facing the consequences. You don't hold Joel responsible. You never did blame him for his decisions. If only you had heeded his advice from the beginning. Be a good girl.

"Uh, Daddy?" You softly call out to him, your voice meek and quiet like a little mouse. Joel barely turns his head, motioning with his finger for you to come closer. With shaky steps, you stand between his spread legs.

Joel's gaze lifts to meet yours, his hair disheveled from constantly running his fingers through it. A sense of satisfaction swells in his chest as he notices your nervousness around him. You struggle to maintain eye contact and can't help but flinch whenever his hand moves abruptly.

"You should be getting down on your knees when you address Daddy, babydoll. It's the only polite thing to do, don't you think?" He tuts at you softly, raising his brows expectantly. He just realized that he hasn't provided his girl with a list of rules to follow. Considering your innocent and unaware nature, he thinks that assigning such a significant task might be too overwhelming for you to handle all at once.

With wide eyes, you scramble to your knees in front of him, your hands placed on the ground between your knees. The positioning accidentally causes the straps of your dress to slide down your shoulders, just barely exposing your chest to Joel's predatory eyes.

"Attagirl," he murmurs, the backs of his knuckles lovingly stroking your jaw, his thumb just barely pressing into one of the finger shaped bruises. "Now, what did you want to ask me, sweetheart?"

The intensity of Joel's gaze makes the question die on your lips. His fingers continue to stroke your jaw gently, their warmth coaxing you into a state of calm. The anxieties that once troubled you are fading away, leaving only the desire to please him, to heed his words, to fulfill his wishes. Joel. Joel. Joel.

He can see your eyes go unfocused the more he keeps his hand connected to your bruised skin. A sick smirk plays on his lips. Seeing you immediately submit to him so easily excites him. To have you down on your knees before him, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted. There's a part of him that wonders why he loves this, this power he holds. Joel is a depraved man, one that feeds into that sick monster hidden beneath him. He never acted this way with your mom. He never even spanks her, let alone gets her to submit in such a way that makes him feel like a god.

The second your body started developing into the womanly figure you have now is what had caught his attention early on. Maybe it's because you looked so much like her in her teenage years, or because you're just so fucking innocent and pure. Either way, his attraction for your mom had long since faded away, and you were the next best thing he wanted to take and destroy.

"Sweetheart," he calls out, gently shaking your shoulder to recapture your attention. "Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice, coupled with the gesture, brings you back to the moment.

With a frantic blink, you refocus your eyes on Joel. He nods, signaling for you to speak, the slight twitch in his jaw betraying his growing impatience. As you shuffle on your knees, your backside presses into the heel of your feet. You attempt to conceal your grimace, yet the intense pain swiftly radiates. Tears gather in your eyes as the burning sensation and fuzziness become overpowering.

Sniffling softly, you say, "I-I was just w-wondering if... if you can, um, make my behind feel a little better?" The question was shy, and you didn't even want to look at him, for you think he's going to reject you.

Joel's grin broadens at the sight of the soft, dejected expression on your face, and as your shoulders slump and your head hangs low, you brace for his scolding for having asked him to do such a task. You deserve to feel the pain of last night's punishment. You don't deserve Joel's gentle hands massaging the sore spots, kissing and whispering sweet praises in your ears. You weren't a good girl, and you don't blame him for not treating you as such.

His voice was so sweet and cooing. "Yeah? You want Daddy to make the pain go away?" His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, your little pink tip just barely poking out to rub across the pad.

The saltiness of his skin has your mouth salivating. You suck his thumb further between your lip, jerking your head to a weak nod as you hum affirmatively. Joel hums as well, only deep in thought as he weighs his options. He could keep on with his heinous punishments, forcing you to plead for him to stop--it's such a dangerous game to play. Alternatively, he might be kind today and pamper you, lavishing you with affection that you feel you don't deserve, which could further endear him to your impressionable mind. As he looks into your eyes and sees the way you're gazing up at him, his thumb firmly tucked between those lips and your silky little tongue swirling around the tip, he chooses the latter.

"Get your butt upstairs and lie on your tummy while Daddy grabs a few things, okay, babydoll?"

The soft breeze of your ceiling fan emitted a chill throughout your body, albeit a pleasant one. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, almost soothing the heat radiating from your bruised backside. Lying on your stomach, you wait patiently, straining your ears for any sign of Joel, but silence is all that meets you. The anticipation of his arrival has you swallowing hard against your pillow. It's as if he's moving quietly and slowly on purpose, prolonging the moment to heighten your sense of anticipation.

This was how he played his sick games. He was the cat, and you were the mouse. He loves being the predator and you, his prey. And for some obscene reason, you love it too.

A small creak at the doorway made you tense for a moment, but you relaxed upon seeing Joel standing there, his large frame filling the doorway. In his hands were two things: a white cloth rag of some kind and a bottle of lotion. You shiver delightfully, knowing that in just a few minutes he was going to be taking care of you in the way you needed.

"Ain't you a peach," he grins and steps inside, using his foot to fully shut the door, officially trapping the both of you inside. Joel's grin widens when he sees just how marked your backside is, the welts swollen and skin broken, large bruises that are all types of hues of blue and purple. "Hmm... Now, that's what I like to see."

You don't respond, opting to stay silent as you curiously observe him from over your shoulder. He pats your hip with the back of his hand, wordlessly telling you to scoot over. Once you do so, Joel unbuttons his shirt, completely removing the offending clothing from his body and tossing it aside. His chest and stomach were now fully exposed.

In the light, with a clear mind, you finally have the chance to take in every inch of Joel. His skin was so tan, it almost blended between caramel and bronze. Dots of hair speckled his chest, a mix of dark brown and gray. Then, there's hair around his belly button before it trails down to disappear under the waistband of his jeans, the hair getting darker and thicker. His skin is a canvas of freckles and old scars, each one a silent story that tempts your curiosity. Questions about their origins linger on the tip of your tongue, yet they remain unasked, perhaps to be explored if alone time with him arises once more.

"Your head is in the clouds again, babydoll," Joel teases, his voice holding a light-heartedness to it, immediately easing your nerves. At the sound of your quiet giggle that you muffle in your pillow, he gets comfortable between your thighs, gently coaxing them to spread wider to accommodate his large size. "There we go," he whispers under his breath.

The hot rag in his hand is gently laid over your backside, the fabric big enough to cover both cheeks. The sudden feeling made you flinch and whine unpleasantly, one foot gently kicking to try to distract you from the pain. Joel hushes you softly, one of his hands sweetly rubbing up and down the back of your thighs.

"Just relax, babydoll," his voice was so soft and comforting. "Let Daddy take care of your pretty self." He applies light pressure to the hot rag, further soothing the sensitive, enflamed skin. Another whisper comes from above, a little less pained and a lot more relieved. "That feel good, baby?"

You let out a drowsy hum as you succumb to the sensation. There was a liquid heat pooling all around your lower half as the pain from your backside gradually melts into a dull ache. Joel glances down between your thighs, your pussy lips spreading open, labia and clit on display for him to see. There's a shine covering your untouched hole. The pearly slick, slowly, slowly, slowly sliding out of your hole and trailing down to cover your clit. There's a small flutter as your pussy clenches, just briefly. An ache in Joel's jaw and his mouth salivating reminds him that now is not the time to act on his impulse. As much as he wants to bury his face between those thighs, he knows he has to make sure that you're going to be working properly before he has his fun again.

When the rag gets cold, he removes it from your backside. The cold air bites into your skin, the sudden shock taking you by surprise. The sensation of pin pricks across your exposed skin causes you to squirm. Joel is aware that it's painful once more. Your soft whimpers of discomfort prompt a quiet chuckle from him.

He grabs the bottle of lotions and squirts a generous amount into the palm of his hand. "Just a second, babydoll," he tells you softly, coaxing you to lay flat on your tummy again. You wait for a few seconds, and then you feel it.

There's a gooey warmth that covers both of your cheeks. It makes your eyes flutter shut. Then, Joel's hands start to massage your tender flesh, gently rubbing and smoothing out the aches. The pressure was so good, and the weight of his hands on your ass allowed your brain to slowly turn into mush.

He continues massaging your cheeks, even going as far as to "accidentally" swipe his thumb against your puckered hole. The action caused you to jolt and gasp, the sound of his laughter making your cheeks warm. When the ache was now dulled into a pleasant numbness, you stretched out your limbs like a little kitty in the sunlight, a soft hum vibrating into the pillow. You look over your shoulder and watch as Joel wipes his hands clean with the damp rag he had used. Seeing his bare chest has you biting down on your bottom lip.

"Uh... Daddy?" There was hesitation in the way you spoke. The idea occurred to you the second Joel had removed his shirt. The sight of your stepdad in your bedroom, clad in just his jeans, touching you in such a way was exciting. Warmth pooled in your stomach, a certain liquid heat that was hard to ignore.

Joel gazes at you with expectation, his eyebrows lifted as he catches the hesitant expression on your face. It seems like you're eager to ask him something, yet you're apprehensive about his reaction. Before this ambiguous relationship began, you'd always rush over to him, words spilling out rapidly to pose questions without a second thought. He was charmed by it. Your eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity, hanging on his every word, which he thought was incredibly cute. However, given his recent behavior, you've become more cautious about your inquiries, wanting to ensure they're significant.

"Can... Can we kiss, like how we did last time?"

The surprise on his face made you giggle. He wasn't expecting you to ask for something like that, let alone think of the naughty stuff he's already done with you at the beginning of the week. Joel clears his throat and trails his eyes over your nude backside, zeroing in on your bare pussy, almost screaming for him to touch and lick up. When he looks back up at you from where you lay against the pillow, your bottom lip tucked underneath your top teeth and your messy hair, he finds himself nodding.

When he props himself up against your pillows, you immediately clamber onto his chest, one leg resting between his legs while your other is propped up and slung over his hip. With your head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Joel rests one arm behind your back, curling it to cup your jaw from behind. Your heart is facing as you get close to his face. Eyes half-lidded and lips parted, you're the one that makes the first move.

When your lips meet, it's like stars bursting behind your eyelids. So soft, so inviting. Joel's lips are as addictive as an expensive drug. You crave their touch every second, every minute, every day.

His tongue enters your mouth and you're quick to eagerly suck it between your lips. He groans huskily and pulls his tongue away before messily kissing you. The hand that rests on your hip slowly trails down and around the back of your thigh before the tips of his fingers rest along your labia. Then, he starts rubbing up and down, further spreading the wetness that leaks out of your empty pussy. He touches everywhere. Your swollen clit, puffy labia, bare pussy lips, and your fluttering hole are left untouched.

You're nibbling on his bottom lip, eagerly shoving your tongue sloppily into his tongue. Joel groans at the taste of your mixed saliva. To have you in his arms like this, naked and so very vulnerable, it was driving him fucking insane. Your hips are shifting and bucking towards his hand, but each time his fingers rub deeper, he pulls them away. When he also pulls his lips from yours, you chase them with a desperate whimper.

"Patience, babydoll," he mutters, glancing down at the pleasure-drunk expression on your face. "Let Daddy have some fun." Joel continues smearing your wetness all over. The messy sounds of your slick being rubbed with his long, thick fingers has you blushing fiercely with embarrassment--embarrassed at the fact that he's touching you like this, probably in the same way he's touched your mom in the past. It's so dirty and naughty.

Your hand gently pets at his scruffy jaw, lashes fluttering so prettily like a butterfly's wings. Lips parted, you slowly and gently kissed him again. This kiss, however, was a lot different than the others. There was a tenderness that Joel got lost in. It made his heart skip a beat, like actually skip a beat. You're so sure he can feel your heart racing as well. Languid kissing was now your favorite thing with him. The soft, wet smacking sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting has you whimpering delicately.

Joel's fingers now focus on your fluttering pussy hole, slick dripping out non-stop, further adding to the stickiness on his finger pads. The hand holding your jaw from behind your head tightens to pull you away.

"I'm goin' to put a finger inside, okay, baby? Daddy's goin' to make that little pussy feel so good," he whispers needily against your wet lips. When you protest, he shushes you and kisses your lips repeatedly. "Be quiet while Daddy has his fun."

Very carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside your pussy, shushing you again when you let out a squeak and try to pull your hips away. Joel's fingers follow your movements, only deepening each time you try to move. He slowly fucks his fingers inside your pussy, the tight, wet heat making his dick thicken in his jeans. The sloppy sounds of your slick, coupled with your weak whimpers has him growling lowly. He retracts his finger and goes back to rubbing your pussy in up-and-down movements again, only this time he's paying more attention to your needy clit.

"Tha' feel good, honey?" He murmurs sweetly against your lips, kissing you once, twice, three times before glancing down at you. With a shaky nod, you tell him in that pretty voice yes, yes, feels s'good. "Mhm."

Your hips are barely grinding against his thick bulge as if they have a mind of their own. There's a neediness in the way you mouth at his neck, your tongue and teeth mapping every inch that you can reach. With your focus now on something else, Joel takes this opportunity to move his hand from your weeping cunt and bring it between your bodies to slyly unbutton and unzip his jeans. He slowly pulls them down, leaning his head back down to capture your lips in another syrupy slow kiss. His cock springs out of his jeans and rests above the waistband of his boxers.

You're not paying attention to what he's doing--so focused on his lips, his warm skin, his chest, his tongue, his scent, just Joel. Daddy. Daddy.

With your attention on his mouth, Joel blindly grips the base of his cock and brings the tip to your opening. He glides the engorged tip up and around your fluttering hole, tapping it lewdly and crudely against it as wet smacking sounds filling the air. Your eyes fly open, and your body seizes as you grab onto his burly forearm.

"Daddy, no! I'm not ready yet!" You practically cry out, eyes wide and frazzled as you frantically shake your head. You've seen the size of Joel. The man is packing. He's fucking massive. And you know you're not ready to take all of him. You can't imagine the pain of being split open by something so long and so thick.

Joel hushes you sweetly, removing his hand from his thick base to tenderly grab a hold of your hip again. "Jus' grind tha' pussy on Daddy for a little bit, baby. Ssshh... you can do tha' for me, right?" His hips start to slowly grind his dick between your pussy lips, your labia spreading open and your clit catching his frenulum. "You wanna be a good girl for me, right? You wanna be punished again, babydoll? Hm? That what you want?"

Feeble whimpers leave your swollen lips at the thought of Joel further punishing you, beating your backside black and blue again. Resting back onto his chest, you shyly wiggle your hips until the position is comfortable enough for you to grind your hips forward and back. Joel grins and cups the back of your thigh to lift it higher on his waist. The feeling of his cock, now covered in your wetness and gliding easily between your pussy lips, has you feeling so tingly and warm down there. It was a new sensation. Getting to feel the thick vein that stretches from the base all the way to his tip was surreal.

"It... It feels... good," you whisper against his scruffy jaw, lips parted next to his chin to let out heavy breaths as the warmth spreads. "I-I like it."

Joel's deep chuckle reached your ears. "Daddy knows best, babydoll," he tells you, his hips grinding a little harder, so his tip nudges the hood of your clit to fully expose the sensitive nerve. "Daddy knows what's good for you, honey." His hand tightens on your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks to part your lips. "You're jus' my little girl that don't know any better, ain't you? Hm? Are you my dumb babygirl?"

The kiss he gives you is filthy. Your hushed whines are muffled as his tongue fights against yours. The liquid heat burns bigger and stronger, spreading all throughout your lower half, down to the tips of your toes and back up again. Your cunt is fluttering wildly. You feel the same sensation as when Joel ate your pussy. He knows it's going to happen. He can tell in the way your whines get more high-pitched and your hips stutter against his wet cock.

When he pulls away, you chase after him again, one hand desperately grabbing the back of his neck to pull him back down. No, no, no, please, don't go, don't leave me. Eyes filled with tears, you weakly beg him, "Da-Daddy, p-please don't... d-don't stop."

As Joel pulls away, the panic clear as day in your eyes has his heart thudding faster. Oh, you poor girl. So desperate to keep him close by. It was an adorable sight, seeing your eyes filled with thick tears as you beg him, over and over again to please, don't leave me. But he hushes you softly, gripping your jaw tighter and pressing into the bruises. His free hand comes up to his lips where he spits a thick wad of saliva in his palm. His hand goes back down between your bodies to coat his cock in his spit, some of it dripping down his heavy balls.

"Can I put the tip inside your little pussy, baby?" Joel breathlessly asks against your swollen lips, pressing a tender kiss before repeating the question again. "Can Daddy put the tip inside? Hm?"

He grinds his cock up and down your pussy again, the added slickness of his spit creating this disgusting, sopping noise. You start protesting as he notches his thick tip at your wet entrance. Grabbing at his forearm once again, you try your best to keep him from pushing it inside.

Shaking your head frantically, you tell him again, weakly, "I-I'm not ready yet, Daddy!"

Joel shuts you up by biting down roughly on your bottom lip, breaking the skin and licking away the blood that dots the pink flesh. With your blood on his tongue, that only fuels the animalistic need within him to fucking split you open.

"It's just the tip, babydoll," he tells you again, his voice deep, gravelly, wrecked. "You can take it, honey. C'mon. You can... take it." Ignoring your crying protests, he slowly pushed his hips up to slide his tip inside your pussy for the first time. He groans heavily against your mouth, sucking your bloody bottom lip between his own and licking the redness away. "Fuuuuuck."

The burn was nearly excruciating. Having something so thick and wide inside your virgin pussy has your breath catching in your throat. To know that Joel wants to put every single inch of himself deep inside is terrifying. I'm not ready. I'm not ready. No, no, no.

"See? It ain't so bad, huh?" Joel's grin is sick and wide as he feels your hole fluttering wildly around his tip. He gently starts to push his hips in and out, slowly fucking his tip into your cunt. "She's jus' suckin' me right in, ain't she? Fuuuck, baby. She's jus' drivin' me fuckin' crazy." His accent was getting gradually thicker and almost incoherent. His heart is racing over a hundred beats per minute under your shaky palm.

You're trying to breathe in and out deeply to not focus on the uncomfortable pain. The stretch was slowly setting to a numbness. The tip of Joel's cock keeps pressing against a spot beneath your pubic bone, giving you the feeling of tingles but more intense. Joel's smile gets much wider when your body relaxes against his chest, your nose pressing into his neck beneath his ear to let out hushed moans that you're trying so hard to keep silent.

"There we go," he hums deeply. "She jus' needed time to get used to Daddy's dick, hm?" The way he's talking to you and referencing your pussy has you melting into a puddle. It's all so intense and overwhelming--you never want it to end. "Jus' you wait 'til Daddy gets so deep inside of her." He accentuated the word by nudging just an inch deeper inside your pussy, forcing a choked groan from your drooling lips.

Joel's hand is still curled around the base, just below his tip. He can feel the coil tightening in the pit of his stomach as his balls draw tighter. He's panting heavily against your forehead, the slick noises just adding to the liquid heat spreading along his large body. Fuck, he was going to cum just like this, his tip lodged inside his stepdaughter's tight, virgin cunt. A sick, old man he is--defiling his wife's daughter and enjoying the depravity. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Fuck," Joel growls, his nostrils flaring, jaw clenching, and teeth baring as he grips his base tightly and yanks his hips away. He slots his cock between your ass cheeks and strokes his hand up and down hastily, your bruised cheeks jiggling from his fist meeting the flesh repeatedly. The sight has his toes curling. The drowsy whimper you release in his ear and the fucking scent of your pussy that he can smell all the way up from where he lay has his cock throbbing. "Daddy's cummin', babydoll. Oh, f-fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuck."

His cum shoots out from between your ass cheeks, thick ropes of white painting your bruises and cute little back dimples, even going so far to reach up your spine and almost landing in your hair. He just won't stop cumming. It's going and going. Joel's entire body is trembling as he jerks the tip, forcing out the last few dribbles of his cum onto your puckered hole.

You felt his spend splattering across your skin, and you wiggle impatiently in his hold, wishing you could've seen it with your own eyes if you weren't so tucked against his neck. Joel lets out a heavy, shaky breath. His beautifully hooked nose brushes against yours, coaxing you to lift your head.

He brings his cum-covered fingers to your lips, the tips rubbing lovingly across the bottom. Maintaining eye contact, you part them and let Joel slowly push his fingers into your mouth. The taste of his cum on your tongue was unlike anything you've ever tasted. It was a masculine, heavy taste, which perfectly accentuates who Joel Miller is. Your eyes flutter shut as you eagerly bring in a third finger, your lips stretched wide around his thick fingers.

"Attagirl," Joel huskily mumbles. "Jus' like that."

You and Joel have fallen into a steady routine. There's an unspoken agreement of where your place is. He can shoot you a specific look and you immediately know what he's trying to say. Joel's an easy man to read, at least to you. There have been many instances where you overheard him and your mom arguing about him being so closed off. But with you, he's so natural at showing you multiple sides of him. You don't mind, really.

As evening falls, Joel is at the stove preparing dinner for both of you. Although it's not your preferred meal, his word is final--what he says, goes. You've learned not to refuse what he's offered so far. Standing near him, you observe his actions with keen interest. Joel often glances back to ensure you're there. You trail behind him, following his every step without question, much like a lost puppy would. Even when he steps into the bathroom, you find yourself waiting right outside the door for him to emerge. It was a weird feeling; a fear you never knew you had within you when it came to your stepdad. You feel as though if he leaves for just a split second, he's never going to come back. And you'll be here lost, alone.

"Dinner time, sweetheart," Joel declares, snapping you out of your daydream. As you dash to the table, he halts you with a hand on your arm. "Whoa, slow down there, speed racer." Chagrined by his gentle chiding, you offer a subdued apology.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, you attempt to follow suit, but he loudly tuts and extends a hand to halt you. Grasping your plate, he sets it down beside his feet. His expression leaves no space for objections. Similar to the previous day, you are left without utensils to eat with. Wordlessly, you get down onto your knees and wait for him to tell you when it's okay to start eating. Joel starts eating his meal pathetically slowly. He's doing it on purpose--you know he's doing it on purpose. He loves making you squirm. He loves to draw it out longer than it's supposed to--just an added perk to his game.

When your stomach starts grumbling loudly, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel barely casts you a glance. He keeps eating his meal, even going as far as to hum loudly as the savoring flavors explode on his tongue. When he has just a few bites left, knowing that your food is now cold, he looks down and gives you a single nod.

Immediately, you bow your head to your plate and begin to hastily mop up your meal. It's untidy and careless, yet it doesn't bother you. You're uncertain when Joel might surprise you again, preventing or restricting your eating. As you take each bite, you watch for a sign from him to cease. Looking up, you notice his focus is solely on his own meal, methodically chewing. Sensing your gaze, he commands without glancing your way, "Eat your damn food before I take it away." With a strained whimper, you comply.

Silence stretches through the air as you both eat. You refrain from mentioning to Joel that your stomach is cramping from eating too quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the meal he prepared with care. When he looks at you, he notices the gradual slowing of your jaw as you struggle to swallow. It's becoming apparent to him that feeding you just once a day is taking its toll.

Suddenly, a series of knocks sounded at the door—five urgent, frantic raps. Panic gripped you, shoulders tightening and jaw clenching as you exchanged a fearful glance with Joel. His brows knitted together, and he quickly wiped his hands and mouth with the napkin.

He points down at you, "You stay right here, and don't make a peep. Understood?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before forcefully pushing back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. You wince and watch anxiously as he stomps over to the door and peers through the peephole.

Joel's jaw clenches upon recognizing the visitor. Muttering, "Son of a bitch," he pulls the door open, one hand gripping the doorknob while the other rests atop the doorframe. There on the porch stands your lanky guy friend, the one you visited the lake with. "Can I help you?" he asks, his tone sharp and unwelcoming.

Your friend shifts nervously, taken aback by Joel answering the door. He softly clears his throat, attempting to peer over Joel's shoulder, but Joel moves nearer to the doorway, narrowing the gap on his side.

"I was wondering if your stepdaughter is home?" he stammers, avoiding eye contact with Joel. "She hasn't been answering her phone, and our friends are really worried," he adds, while Joel feels a sense of satisfaction from the fear he perceives in the boy's demeanor.

"She's grounded," Joel says, his tone getting colder when the boy tries, yet again, to look over his shoulder. "Now, I suggest you turn your ass around and get the fuck off my porch."

Your friend's eyes widen, and he takes a staggered step back at Joel's violently dark tone. "The fuck is your problem, man?!"

From within the house, the volume of your friend's voice escalates, almost to a shout at Joel. You observe Joel's hand clench around the doorknob, and it's surprising that it remains intact under his grasp.

He can't understand what overtakes him; perhaps it's knowing you're mere feet away, or maybe it's because the kid has witnessed things about you he disapproves of. However, the only thing Joel is aware of is the white-hot rage engulfing him. You watch as he storms out and slams the door with such force that the vibration is felt on the ground where you kneel.

Outside, Joel's hands clench the collar of the boy's shirt, likely tearing the fabric with his sheer strength. He thrusts him against the porch post, almost splintering the wood and the boy's skull with the impact. Joel leans in, his shoulders rising and falling, emitting a low growl from his throat. The boy's whimpers are muffled as Joel's knuckles press into his windpipe.

"Listen to me, and you listen good," Joel leans in close, his voice low and dangerous. "If you so much as talk to her again, look at her, touch her, or even think about her, I'll have you wishin' you were never born." Your friend's toes are barely skimming the ground as Joel has him literally lifted up against the wooden post. His hands are frantically grabbing Joel's forearms, feet weakly kicking. The man doesn't budge--he only presses harder. "If you come back to my house to bother my girl one more time, I will fuckin' kill you." He gravely whispers the last threat and releases his hands, watching as your friend pathetically falls to the ground onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as he grabs his throat. "Now, go on. Get."

Joel remains on the porch, his fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath. His gaze is fixed on your friend as he dashes away and fumbles into his meager Honda Civic. Even after the vehicle disappears down the road, Joel is motionless. The fury within him, burning in his chest and gut, has not subsided; it has only grown stronger.

Within the house, silence prevails. A single loud thump disrupts the quiet, followed by stillness. You pause for a moment, the sound of your own heartbeat the only noise. The urge to call out to Joel is strong, but the words are stuck in your throat. Anxiety creeps back into your chest, gnawing at your heart and corroding your veins. Did Joel leave? Where is he? Where did he go? Please, come back. Daddy, don't leave. Where are you? Please, please, come back. Don't leave me here alone. They're going to get me. Please. Oh, God. He's gone. He's never coming back.

White noise fills the cracks in Joel's mind. He sits on the porch swing hunched over, both elbows resting on his knees as he twiddles with his gold wedding band. His knee bounces up and down in quick succession. Someone had gotten too close to his home--to his special girl. The lanky fucking kid. Joel's hands clench into tight fists, just begging to slam them into your friend's face over and over until he's a mangled, unrecognizable pile of flesh and broken bones.

He's uncertain of the time he's spent out here; it might have been minutes or perhaps an hour. Time mattered little to him. His thoughts were consumed by you, his little girl. In his eyes, no one could match what he has provided for you, and he believes you would agree. Joel is confident in his knowledge, convinced that you belong to him. He sees himself as your destined protector, even if his hands were metaphorically elongated like a beast with monstrous nails ready to strike.

You belonged to Joel Miller, whether you knew it or not.

As the streetlights flicker on, he realizes it's time to head back inside. The neighborhood is winding down for the evening. A sudden memory jolts Joel; he had left you alone in the house. Leaping from his seat, he flings the door open, then slams it shut, securing both the bottom and top locks. Turning towards the kitchen, he freezes upon spotting you—a mere few feet away, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, whimpering and trembling.

"Babydoll," Joel tuts and carefully walks around you to bend down, tenderly pushing your hair from your face and catching sight of your tear-filled eyes. "Did I tell you to move? Hm?"

The sound of his voice was like a lifeline to your heart—his words were the breath you needed, and you felt as if you were at death's door. In a rush, you stood and threw your arms around his shoulders, almost toppling both of you to the ground. Tears streamed down your face, and sobs of distress were just barely restrained the moment his body pressed against yours.

Crying out to him, "Y-You left me! You l-left me a-alone! I thought... I thought you weren't coming back! The bad people were gonna t-take me away from you!" Trying to bury yourself deeper in his neck, you silently begged for Joel to take you somewhere, far away from here.

It was naive to believe you could manage alone. At your current age, it's only a matter of time before your mom discusses the prospect of moving out. Yet now, the mere idea of being apart from Joel triggers a wave of panic. How can you explain to your mom that without him, you feel incomplete? She might find it appalling. It wasn't difficult to keep your relationship with Joel a secret, but the threat of being pushed out of the house makes you wonder if it's worth it.

"I-I don't think I can do this anymore, Joel," you wept, sniffling and breathing heavily in his shoulder, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of his t-shirt to keep him close when he shifts an inch or two away. "I can't... I can't be away from you. I can't th-think, I can't function, I can't breathe w-without you, Daddy!"

There it was, the answer he's been waiting for. Hook, line, sinker. Joel has damaged you so severely to where you need to be around him or else you'll go crazy. This is what he was waiting for, fucking aching for. So young, so innocent, so pure. Now tainted by his predatory hands, bruised and marked by his false promises and sick fantasies. This is a dream come true. His wedding band almost burns through your skin as you feel the cold metal on your bare shoulder.

"Oh, my sweet babydoll," he coos in your ear, that honeyed tone of his easing your worries.

If only you understood his thoughts about you, his desires from you. Convincing your mind that this relationship is normal, making you believe that this is true love—you poor, poor girl.

Joel continues, his voice gradually turning dark as his hands tighten around your shoulders, nails digging crescents into your delicate skin, "This is just the beginning."

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog ; @blueberrypancakesworld ; @heyhihello-4771 ; @codenamekitten ; @chamepagnessimo ; @idioticcatss ; @takochansugoi ; @zjasminelouvre3 ; @natalieispunk ; @koshkaj-blog ; @giowritess ; @beardropascal ; @pascaltesfaye ; @callmeafra ; @nexy00 ; @josephquinnswhore ; @baronessvonglitter ; @peelieblue ; @paanchusblog ; @b3bybunny ; @sugadolly ; @ktluvsmen ; @elliesr1fle ; @taeslarityy ; @yourgirljasmin444 ; @laloestoyvivo ; @aquanatalie ; @vickie5446 ; @cowboybootjoel ; @olicity-boo ; @ashleyfilm ; @withakindheartx ; @puduvallee ; @psychoenergy ; @chuutzuyu ; @cockykookiee

[woso-dreamzzz]

Pipsqueak's Halloween

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: The seventh of my Halloween-centric fics

When Ellie first found out how seriously you and Daan took Halloween, she hadn't expected this.

She'd expected some trick or treating, of course. Maybe some horror movies, child appropriate obviously. There may have been pumpkin carving but Ellie hadn't ever considered she would be sitting in the car by herself.

She drums the side of the steering wheel, eyes narrowed as she leans forward to check through the windscreen.

All the other families she spies aren't you and Daan.

It wouldn't be difficult to spot either of you.

You're both wearing very stupid Teletubby onesies that makes you stick out from a mile away.

But, yet, you're both nowhere to be found until maybe half an hour (and two packets of skittles) later when Ellie spots one red and one green furry onesie come sprinting up the road.

Daan's yelling something that Ellie can't hear, mouth moving.

Ellie frowns, trying to lip read.

You're yelling something too.

You can't quite keep up with Daan's pace, you're still a kid after all, but Daan's half tugging you along, a tight grip on your hand.

In the end, Ellie loses the lip reading battle and just rolls down the window, sticking her head out of it.

"What?!"

"Start the car!"

"What?!"

"Start the car!"

"Huh?"

"The car!" You interrupt, opening Ellie's door and clambering in, climbing over her to go tumbling into the back," Start it!"

Ellie barely has any time to react as Daan also uses her now open door to climb in. She hauls herself over Ellie's body, slamming the door shut at the same time on her way to the front passenger seat.

"Start the car!" You both snap at her as you spy someone else come running down the street towards you.

"Okay, okay," Ellie says," We're going. We're going."

She throws the car in reverse, backing out of her parking spot as the man who ran after you yells and shakes his fist.

"Did-Did you two do something to him?" Ellie asks," He looked pretty angry."

"I don't know," Daan says," Some people just have those kind of faces. It was nothing."

"Really? He was pretty angry."

"Some people just don't know how to take a joke, Ellie," You say from the backseat.

Ellie frowns, angling her rear view mirror to look at you properly.

You've got the same innocent, butter wouldn't melt in your mouth smile that you wore when Ellie found all of her bras hidden under the sofa cushions and her phone chargers in the back of the fridge.

"Alright," She says, slamming on the breaks," What did you two do? Huh? What did you do this time?"

Ellie isn't used to being the voice of reason of the family.

That's normally Daan, which is another surprising thing for people outside of the family to realise. But Daan's been your mother for years now and she's used to all your tricks and even though she can be a bit childish herself, she's still trying to raise you as a functioning member of society.

So, usually, Daan is the voice of reason in the family.

Especially on occasions where she catches you and Ellie attacking each other with Nerf guns in the early hours of the morning.

But there are times, like this one, where Daan's childish side comes out and Ellie comes to the startling realisation that two Van de Donks is maybe two too many.

"Ellie, you're in the middle of the street," You say, still smiling innocently at her," You can't park here."

"There's no cars coming," Ellie says," And stop deflecting. What did you do?"

"Ellie," Daan says, wearing a matching smile," Why do you think we did something?"

"Because men running after you down the street, you demanding I make a break for it, all on Halloween means you were up to something."

You giggle. "You're so silly, Ellie. Turn right here."

"Are you really giving me orders right now?" Ellie deadpans," We're not moving until you tell me what happened."

"That's fine," You say," We can walk."

Ellie switches on the locks.

"We egged his house!" You say instantly and Daan groans.

"You weren't supposed to tell her!"

"You egged his house?!"

"Yes," Daan says," She just told you that."

"You-You can't go egging people's houses! It's wrong! It takes ages to clean up and-and that man had a right to be angry with you!"

From the backseat, you shrug.

"Yeah and people shouldn't be getaway drivers for people who egg other people's houses. I guess we've all been incriminated here."

[redtail-lol]

Accepting people with low or no empathy means also accepting some of the things that can cause and not viewing them as moral deficits, so I'm giving shoutouts

Shoutout to people who can't predict how their actions will make others feel, who end up doing things that seem mean or inconsiderate because they didn't have a good prediction for how others would react

Shoutout to people who don't pick up on the hints or signs that someone is feeling upset or bored or wants something, who end up being seen as inconsiderate or uncaring because they just didn't know

Shoutout to people who end up being tonally "inappropriate" or "insensitive" because they didn't properly interpret or even realize at all how the people around them felt

Shoutout to people who can't put themselves into the mindset or worldview of someone else, and for those reasons, can't really figure out why something makes them feel a certain way when you yourself wouldn't feel that way under the same circumstances

And fuck it

Shout out to low/no empathy people who DO end up doing things that are inconsiderate or hurt other people's feelings because their lack of empathy made it hard to realize that it would be unkind. Shoutout to those people who are trying to learn ways to be more considerate of and kind to others and their feelings, and shoutout to those people who still make mistakes in trying to do that because they are missing a brain function that makes it easier to think of those things and accurately know how you'll make others feel.

It doesn't reflect on your morality to have low empathy, or even no empathy, even when it causes mistakes. We are humans and most of us are disabled. Lacking empathy is a part of that disability, and instead of seeing ourselves as either cruel people who don't care to do good, or as perfect people who never have any issues with lacking empathy ever, we should acknowledge that it can cause difficulties in interpersonal relationships, and we deserve to be forgiven for those difficulties.

Tagged with various disabilities that can cause low or no empathy. Sorry if I leave anyone out!

[evilminji]

You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~�� Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

:)

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[heartfullofleeches]

Loser (incel) Reader and Sex-maid bot Yan. Reader orders their new toy same day shipping - grateful to the gods for not having to deal with the hassle of making themselves presentable to other humans, and no longer having to clean their room. A little mistake in mailing leads to them getting their robot a day later than expected, and a large crack in its visor. Reader is obviously pissed by this development, but powers the bot on to see the extent of the damage. It works just fine - minus the loss of its built in knowledge and abilities.

They know their prime directive, but they can't wash a single dish or fold clothes. Other parts of them still function so Reader is fine keeping them around and teaching them what to do while it warms their bed. The Bot feels so useless to their master. All they ever do is question them and break every vase they hold like the ditz it is. Their master even gave them the nickname of Melon likely for the damage they've taken. They'll probably have their memories erased when the repair team comes in....

"All fixed. Just a few unplugged wires at that nasty crack. There seems to be some other bugs, but we'd need to take it in to examine."

"You said they work now, right? It's fine. I don't want to have to teach them how to organize my desk properly again. Those figures are collectables."

Their master was letting them keep their precious memories?... The human had never been the nicest, but they weren't outright cruel either. It was almost....cute how protective of their belongings they were. It was their possession too... Fully capable of pleasing their master in all forms, Melon wouldn't waste their second chance.

They cook their master's favor meals without over seasoning or cooking it. They wash clothes and scold their silly master for wearing things multiple days at a time. They wait hand and foot by day and nights....nights are their favorite part. They sit quietly through their master's God awful attempts at flirting in the off chance they ever seek a human mate - but something's off. There's an ache in their chest whenever they imagine their master with another. Their answers to their master's terrible flirts comes start from that hole when the correct thing to do was tell them of their errors and why no human would want them if they said those things.

No human deserved them anyway... All their master needed to be satisfied - was them

Crackposts under cut - suggestive themes

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: My body pillow. It stains easy so put it down.

Melon: Ah, it's precious to you then? I'll take good care of it :D

Melon: Master, what's this? :)

Loser Reader: A knife. Be careful with it.

Melon: Oh, it's dangerous? I'll keep it far away from you! <3

Melon: Master.... who is this?

Loser Reader: My crush from highschool. Meant to throw that picture away after they rejected me

Melon: They don't mean anything to you anymore?... I think I've found somewhere to store that knife

-

Loser Reader: sighs My friend really wants me to meet their sibling. Guess I better get dressed.

Melon, on their knees: Master ~ it currently 1:14pm. Time for your daily bi-hourly head

Loser Reader: My wha- [ziiip] Fuck, wait-

-

Loser Reader, attempting to flirt: you are a moderately attractive person and in the case I snap and kill everyone - I'd go on the run and change my name with you... or save you for last. How was that?

Melon, wiping fakes tears: You have such a beautiful way with words, master

-

Stranger: Oh, hello- Is Y/n home? We meet online at while ago and they gave me their addresses in case I visit because I only live an hour away

Melon: Hmph, can you pleasure my master while rearranging their game library in alphabetical order at the same time? I think not. Good-bye!

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Under the cut: a snippet from another random Jily oneshot I started a while back and have never been arsed to finish.

There are terrible venues at which to stage a first date, and then there's a noodle canteen.

Admittedly, a noodle canteen is not the worst place for a first date—his mate Peter once brought a girl to a family funeral—but it is the worst kind of restaurant.

Reason one of two: James can't even order the fucking noodles that the aforementioned noodle canteen is known for. He is not particularly skilled in the art of using chopsticks, and even on a fork, noodles have a pesky habit of sliding off and spattering sauce everywhere, which is a first date Don't. A first date faux pas. A first date tragedy. James only ever goes to this place for its teriyaki salmon soba, but the risk to his shirt and his dignity is too great.

He orders the spicy miso mackerel instead, which comes with brown rice and is tasty, but decidedly not salmon-esque.

Reason two of two: it's a noodle canteen. He and his date aren't sequestered away at a private table, where any other major mistake on his part might go unnoticed by all but the woman he's with, but jammed right at the end of a busy public bench. To James's left sits a man who could easily be found walking calmly away from an explosion in a major Hollywood blockbuster, manoeuvring chopsticks through his own noodles with silky expertise while he listens to his stunning girlfriend talk about some prick from her work, who sounds like a right sort; not that James is eavesdropping, or at least, he'll deny it if anyone asks.

Point is, he's a little off his game.

All right, he's a lot off his game. He's several miles off his game. He'll need to take the Eurostar if he ever hopes to reach the vicinity of his game, but that would leave him in France, which is the only scenario that could make this evening worse.

At the very least, it's warm here in the restaurant. It's colder than his vegetable crisper outside.

"Is your food good?" he asks Chloë from Hinge.

Chloë from Hinge, who suggested the noodle canteen in the first place, pops a generous forkful of kimchee into her mouth and shrugs. "Yeah, it's alright."

James tries not to be put off by the fact that she's speaking to him through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage. Or that they both promised to wear Christmas jumpers on this date and she turned up in a silver halter dress instead.

He wonders if she's spoken through a wide-open mouthful of fermented cabbage because she wants to put him off.

It's not beyond reason to think it. Chloë's interest in James appears to have waned since she asked him for his astrological sign over their gyoza starters and replied, "Wow, huge red flag" upon learning that he is Aries, and with such blunt distaste that he's still not sure if she was joking, because she did not clarify her position during the awkward silence that followed. Everything has been weird since then, with James feeling forced by circumstance to supply most of the conversation while she's stared at him with glazed-over eyes, has not asked to see a single picture of his cat, and winced when she learned that he shares a flat with his brother.

Is that a bad thing, sharing a flat with one's brother at his age?

James is only twenty-five, which is practically the first flush of youth and not nearly old enough to cross the roommate-having threshold that separates "pushing it" from "downright embarrassing." The downright embarrassing age is forty, which he thought everyone knew.

Besides, Sirius hasn't yet learned to function properly without him. He'd forget to take his vitamins and wouldn't set up standing orders to pay his bills, if he didn't live with James. He wouldn't know to separate whites from darks when he laundered his clothes—or maybe he wouldn't launder his clothes, just purchase more clothes whenever they grew dirty. James has had to learn to handle all of that stuff because he lives with Sirius. In many ways, it has been excellent practice for fatherhood, which should count as a plus in his favour. Chloë's profile says she wants to have kids.

And while James is hard-wired to believe that, when it comes to women, he must be the one to blame when things go wrong… he's starting to think that Chloë might be the problem.

He's really not sure what's happened. She called him fit a bunch of times on Hinge, where they got along quite well.

Now she seems annoyed to be here.

If he could, he'd ask the too-attractive and intelligent-seeming couple next to him for their thoughts on the matter, but they're happily enjoying their cherry blossom lemonades and the woman (who is eating teriyaki salmon soba, an extra rub of salt in the wound) has already slanted one-too-many pitying half-smiles in his direction. So she probably thinks the fault all lies with him.

"It's bloody cold out there, isn't it?" he offers, which is just pathetic, really. The weather was the first topic they touched on when they sat down, but she's not been buying anything else he's selling, so here they are again.

His other option is to explain the work that goes into taking care of the adult toddler he lives with, but he doubts that she'll be interested.

"Freezing," Chloë replies, addressing her cabbage.

"Makes me wish I was on a beach somewhere."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Last time I was on holiday I was with my family in Greece. One day it was so hot my mum said you could fry an egg on the ground, so we tried it—my brother and I—but it barely wound up partially cooked," he starts to ramble. "She was all grouchy when we told her about it, said we shouldn't take her words so literally, but she's a chef, so I personally think she was mad that we'd found a chink in her knowledge."

"Mmm," his date agrees. Then she drops her chopstick on the table with an ungainly clatter. "D'you mind if I go to the toilet?"

Freedom! his mind sings. Whole MINUTES of sweet freedom from this torture! "Go right ahead."

Chloë doesn't need telling twice. She slides off the edge of the bench and unfurls at speed, rising to her high-heeled feet with the slightest wobble and shouldering her purse. James watches her retreating back as she hurries away, thankfully (or tragically) in the direction of the toilets, rather than the exit.

He's not sure how he feels about that.

As humiliating as it would be to get ditched in a noodle canteen, the relief of ending this night early would almost be worth the trouble.

With a laboured sigh, he pushes both hands through his rumpled hair once, then bows his head over the long table in a move reminiscent of a lonely Ken, one elbow on either side of his plate, cradling his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

The sooner he gets out of here…

"Sounds like your mother wound up with egg on her face," quips the beefcake.

James lifts his head from his hands at once.

"Oh god, Kingley," the beefcake's stunningly pretty girlfriend (James can only assume she's his girlfriend, like calls to like and all that) groans, regarding him with disgust. "That was too cheesy to stomach, I'm leaving right now."

The beefcake ignores her and twists in his seat to face James. "You know that your date's not interested, yeah?"

"I'd gleaned that."

"I mean it's been painful to witness. Hasn't it?" The beefcake (Kingsley?) turns back around to solicit his companion's opinion, but she merely (kindly?) rolls her eyes and tosses a lock of red hair behind her shoulder with great delicacy and grace. "Just awkward as arse. I'm almost queasy thinking about it."

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Undertale characters see S/O break a bone and then S/O basically just does a Far Cry healing animation and doesn’t even care they got hurt.

Undertale Sans - He grabs your arm gently but firmly, with dark eye sockets. "b u d d y ? N e v e r d o t h a t a g a i n." He hated every second of it. What's wrong with you? Go to the hospital like a normal person, you're going to hurt yourself more.

Undertale Papyrus - He faints. First, the shock of seeing your leg on the wrong side triggered him, but you simply putting it back in place like it's nothing? That's too much man. He can take a lot of things, but this is a big no.

Undertale Toriel - .... She was about to heal you, that for sure stopped her dead in her tracks. She's speechless. And immediately turns into Goat Mom mode and starts lecturing you about how dangerous this is and how it could have hurt you even more. Now you sit down this instant and you let her heal you properly.

Undertale Asgore - He lived hundreds of years and still discovers new things. Though, that one is maybe a bit too much. The noise of the bone snapping back into place made him so uncomfortable he suddenly panics his way out of the house, pretending he needed to get groceries or something.

Undertale Undyne - She stares in awe for a few seconds. Then she explodes. "This was AWESOME. Do it AGAIN!!!" She's very excited about this. She's even ready to break your arm if you need it! Come on!

Undertale Alphys - The scientist in her leaves her body. Why even try? You clearly have no idea how to fix a bone. It's so dangerous and you just act like everything is alright now??? How??? You should be screaming in agony???

Undertale Frisk - Well they can do cool things too. Frisk immediately struggles to lick their elbow with all they have.

Undertale Chara - They roll their eyes at you. You think you're in a video game or something? They're not taking you to the hospital when you realize you're dying because of how painful this is. You did that to yourself.

Undertale Mettaton - He gasps, then runs to you with a camera. Can he break one of your bones so you can do it again and put it in his next movie? Please, please, please, pretty please....

Undertale Gaster - He hisses at you, all his goop puffing like an angry cat. This is the worst sound he has ever heard, please never do that again or he's going to blip into another dimension again!

Undertale Grillby - He stays neutral, but his fire body suddenly burns for real, which means you triggered him. And now the bar is on fire, and Sans is on fire, and all the customers are running in circles screaming for their lives. What have you done?

Undertale Muffet - No big deal, it happens all the time with her eight arms too. She doesn't even notice when one is broken with time, as she has seven other functioning ones. You're not special, who cares.

Undertale Burgerpants - Oh look at that. He's dating another weird person. Welp, that's official. He has a type apparently. He wishes he didn't have one. Why can't he date normal people who do things like normal people should?

Undertale Flowey - Did you just pull out the friendliness pellet he threw inside your arm with your teeth? "You can't do that! That's illegal! I just broke that bone, you can't fix it like it's nothing! Cheater!" He's so mad! Stop breaking his fun. He wants to kill you!

Undertale Gerson - He wiggles his eyebrows at you. You know his back is hurting as well, right? You know. A little trick like that could help like hell. Come on. Don't be shy.

[brotherwtf]

The college abo ask/drabble omg,,, Omega John going through heat again for the first time since Gale’s figured it out and they’ve been together 🫣 Gale coming back from class and John’s already in the throes of it and he’s just whimpering and cramping and begging for Gale and his knot the second he walks in and John smells him

-@mangokittokatsu

omg anon this is so fucking delicious and tasty hmmm

----

This was one of the worst heats that John has ever been through.

Ever since he stopped using blockers when he moved out, his heats have come back tenfold, causing him to double over in pain every single time they came back. He couldn't walk, had to take a week off of classes, and was so damn horny that he almost couldn't function. If he didn't get fucked right now he thinks he's just going to break.

It doesn't help that Gale's scent is still all over their dorm too, John's losing his damn mind because there's the smell of an alpha so close to him, but no alpha around to actually satiate him. He's rutting into the pillow, trying to get some satisfaction, and he's crying from how desperate he is.

When he hears Gale's keys being inserted into the lock, he has to bite back a moan. All he can think of is Gale, an alpha, could be his alpha if he begged hard enough for it, Gale could help him.

Gale walks in and his eyes train on John, obviously being able to smell how desperate John is in this moment. John practically whines, shoving his face into the pillow and curling his knees into his chest. He doesn't want to look at Gale almost, but he's so damn desperate he looks up at him with teary eyes.

"Please, I'm sorry I'm so sorry, but please... Gale I need your help," John cries and it's horrible pathetic.

Gales eyes are trained on him, and John knows there's a part of him physically restraining himself from just pouncing on John's body and taking him right there. But he walks slowly, deliberately, and sits on the edge of John's bed, carefully running a hand through John's hair.

"Has it always been this bad?" Gale asks and John just whimpers while he shakes his head.

Another cramp surges its way through John's stomach and he whines into the sheets again. Gale shushes him, gently pushing on John's shoulder until he's laid out on the bed.

"Oh I'm sorry John, don't worry I can help, let me help you darling," Gale says and he presses a gentle kiss to John's forehead.

He presses their foreheads together as he grazes a hand down to John's boxers, pushing them down and quietly telling John to lift his legs so he can push them off. John whimpers and nods, lifting his hips so Gale can touch him properly.

Gale starts by gently stroking John's cock, pulling the sweetest and most desperate sounds from him, shushing him gently when he tries to buck his hips upwards into his grip.

"Come on, doll, be patient. I'm gonna knot you so good darling, you'll be full with it," Gale says and John moans aloud, throwing his head back against the pillow.

Gale sneaks his hand down to John's dripping hole, circling his finger around it and teasing it gently, teases until Johns crying for it into his arm.

"There you go, come on, ask for what you want," Gale says and John can't even form the words, just continues to whimper and whine into his arms.

Sighing, Gale takes two of his fingers and shoves them inside, smiling at how John jerks up and moans. It's amazing but not enough, Gales fingers don't quite reach where John wants to be touched so terribly. His hips keep bucking up into Gales touch and he smiles at him, coos and calls him desperate.

"Want it, please... I want your knot," John begs.

Gale smiles at him, standing as fast as he can and stripping himself of his clothes and ripping John's shirt off of him. It makes John's head go mushy, Gale finally taking control and letting his alpha instincts take over.

Gale wastes no time thrusting into John, the slick John's been steadily producing aiding the slide easily. John whines in his throat, cries out and keeps a scream in the back of his throat. Gale groans, latching his lips onto John's neck and grabbing onto his hips to thrust into him.

John has never been fucked this well by an alpha before. Other partners chased their own pleasure, John's experience being the last of their worries when they had something warm to stick their knot into. But Gale held him, wrapped his arms around John gently while he thrusted into him, making those desperate sounds alongside John, getting pleasure by making John feel good as well.

John can feel Gale's knot in him, can feel the intense stretch that accompanies it, and his moans keep getting higher and higher, until he's screaming from it, grabbing onto Gale's shoulders and scraping aggressively as Gale thrusts into him with a final groan.

They stay like that, John panting with come on his stomach and with Gale's knot inside him, smiling because he hasn't felt this good in a long time.

Gale pushes himself up with his arms and looks into John's eyes, pressing gentle kisses against his mouth to bring him down from their high.

"Was that good, doll? Feel better?" Gale asks, and John smiles, nodding as he pulls Gale down for a weak embrace.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Your countries are being invaded and your too blinded by accusations of "Bigotry" and "Racism" to actually do anything about it. What am I talking about?

-

Let me explain something to the left and any moderate that might have an issue with my framing. These are not people seeking asylum because of persecution. These are economic migrants trying to extract from our countries while their first act in flooding here is economic instability and eventual collapse. It has nothing to do with cultural dislike, or racism of any kind.

Fact is most people in most places hate how their governments are run. The US Gov I can actually weigh in on, because we have sent billions in tax dollars to Ukraine and foreign interests. We have spent millions if not billions on homelessness yet still have a huge homeless issue in places that claim to care about it more than anywhere else.

But what's the issue. 80%-90% of the people coming are military age men. In some cases that percentage is north of 98%. Meaning there are almost never any women or children coming here. And at least in the US they are coming here with their fist act as breaking US law. I live in Texas. This state is heavily affected by illegal immigration. Hard part is, most people don't tend to see the effects until it's too late. The more people that flood your country, the worse the economy in your country will be. Slow trickle can be handled. What we are experiencing can't be. Why?

So not to be the "THER TAKN OUR JUBS", but in reality they are. They will work for lower wages. They don't care if they get healthcare. And the employer does not have to care about the red tape hiring them. They get the profit with almost none of the other complexities that come from hiring a legal citizen. What's more, we barely have enough jobs for the people that live here and yet we flood millions in through the southern border every single year. Functionally, this is an issue. We might be a melting pot, but what happens when our cultures are deleted outright because the flood gets too big?

And this is a real risk. Cultural decimation. These people don't care about their own countries. What makes you think they care about yours? They will extract. Destroy. And they will move on. They don't realize they are doing it have the time but consider the fact that the UN has not helped in this at all. Consider the fact that the WEF has not at all helped in this. The US can hold the population of the world sure, but fact of the matter is that should not be our goal. There are too many cultures, and there are too many offset forms of belief.

We can barely keep our own country working properly and inflation is the worst it's been in almost ever. We can't take care of our own and yet the bleeding heart class in the US just expects us to take in everyone from everywhere at all times. Economically we can't handle this. Socially and culturally we can't handle this. People need to go to countries through the proper sources. They need to do it legally. But what's more, these countries are losing their working age and military age men. IN THE THOUSANDS and MILLIONS. What is the result to the country these people are leaving? What of the women and children left behind?

No one wants to have this conversation because they are scared of being called a xenophobe or a racist. But having love for your country and wanting it to continue to function, and not have your culture crushed under the weight of actual invaders, isn't either of those things. And before you go, "Oh well how dare you call them invaders ~" here is the definition for you.

Look at the second listing. I understand the idea behind wanting others to be happy. I understand the idea behind wanting people from other places to not suffer. But these people are leaving their countries, rather than fighting for them. They have abandoned their mothers, daughters, wives, sisters, aunts, and grandmothers in most cases.

Most of you need to face the reality that the real world is not a fair place. But if you want your country to thrive and survive there needs to be a process in which it functions. These people are ignoring that entire process. If Italy can't deport the people that just arrived on that ship, outnumbering the entire population of the island they just landed on, there will be consequences. And they will not be good. The language will start to shift. The religions in the area will change. The entire culture will change. Then at some point, they will decide, "This is our land now, and it's always been ours". It's objectively conquest by sheer numbers. And while they might not individually have any ill intent. That won't matter in the long term.

This isn't a conspiracy. It's not bigotry. Open a history book and read. I'm pro immigration. 100% I'm for it. But how long are the lines for the people coming here legally? How many people have been denied citizenship over BS reasons? And not only are we allowing illegals in at a more than alarming rate (specifically in the US), but we are spending tax dollars on giving them roofs over their heads, and handouts, and in some places they are even getting monthly allowances.

Explain to me how we are doing this for people with no respect for the country, or it's laws, and yet you can't solve homelessness? You can't make a VA that actually functions properly? You can't get out out of inflation? So to the people cheering on illegal immigration, you are voting for your own demise. And every penny spent on them, is not one spent on a legal immigrant. Every penny spent on them is not spend helping the homeless. Every penny spent on them is not spent on healthcare.

This might be a controversial post and some people may even block, mute or unfollow me for it and that's fine. But history speaks for itself. And every country that has dealt with this for too long has collapsed over time. Pretty much every single time.

You should be concerned. Before you end up as the one who's displaced, and is fleeing.

[kremlin]

How DOES the C preprocessor create two generations of completely asinine programmers??

oh man hahah oh maaan. ok, this won't be very approachable.

i don't recall what point i was trying to make with the whole "two generations" part but ill take this opportunity to justifiably hate on the preprocessor, holy fuck the amount of damage it has caused on software is immeasurable, if you ever thought computer programmers were smart people on principle...

the cpp:

there are like forty preprocessor directives, and they all inject a truly mind-boggling amount of vicious design problems and have done so for longer than ive been alive. there really only ever needed to be one: #include , if only to save you the trouble of manually having to copy header files in full & paste them at the top of your code. and christ almighty, we couldn't even get that right. C (c89) has way, waaaay fewer keywords than any other language. theres like 30, and half of those aren't ever used, have no meaning or impact in the 21st century (shit like "register" and "auto"). and C programmers still fail to understand all of them properly, specifically "static" (used in a global context) which marks some symbol as inelligible to be touched externally (e.g. you can't use "extern" to access it). the whole fucking point of static is to make #include'd headers rational, to have a clear seperation between external, intended-to-be-accessed API symbols, and internal, opaque shit. nobody bothers. it's all there, out in the open, if you #include something, you get all of it, and brother, this is only the beginning, you also get all of its preprocessor garbage.

this is where the hell begins:

#if #else

hey, do these look familiar? we already fucking have if/else. do you know what is hard to understand? perfectly minimally written if/else logic, in long functions. do you know what is nearly impossible to understand? poorly written if/else rats nests (which is what you find 99% of the time). do you know what is completely impossible to understand? that same poorly-written procedural if/else rat's nest code that itself is is subject to another higher-order if/else logic.

it's important to remember that the cpp is a glorified search/replace. in all it's terrifying glory it fucking looks to be turing complete, hell, im sure the C++ preprocessor is turing complete, the irony of this shouldn't be lost on you. if you have some long if/else logic you're trying to understand, that itself is is subject to cpp #if/#else, the logical step would be to run the cpp and get the output pure C and work from there, do you know how to do that? you open the gcc or llvm/clang man page, and your tty session's mem usage quadruples. great job idiot. trying figuring out how to do that in the following eight thousand pages. and even if you do, you're going to be running the #includes, and your output "pure C" file (bereft of cpp logic) is going to be like 40k lines. lol.

the worst is yet to come:

#define #ifdef #ifndef (<- WTF) #undef you can define shit. you can define "anything". you can pick a name, whatever, and you can "define it". full stop. "#define foo". or, you can give it a value: "#define foo 1". and of course, you can define it as a function: "#define foo(x) return x". wow. xzibit would be proud. you dog, we heard you wanted to kill yourself, so we put a programming language in your programming language.

the function-defines are pretty lol purely in concept. when you find them in the wild, they will always look something like this:

#define foo(x,y) \ (((x << y)) * (x))

i've seen up to seven parens in a row. why? because since cpp is, again, just a fucking find&replace, you never think about operator precedence and that leads to hilarious antipaterns like the classic

#define min(x,y) a < b ? a : b

which will just stick "a < b ? a: b" ternary statement wherever min(.. is used. just raw text replacement. it never works. you always get bitten by operator precedence.

the absolute worst is just the bare defines:

#define NO_ASN1 #define POSIX_SUPPORTED #define NO_POSIX

etc. etc. how could this be worse? first of all, what the fuck are any of these things. did they exist before? they do now. what are they defined as? probably just "1" internally, but that isn't the point, the philosophy here is the problem. back in reality, in C, you can't just do something like "x = 0;" out of nowhere, because you've never declared x. you've never given it a type. similar, you can't read its value, you'll get a similar compiler error. but cpp macros just suddenly exist, until they suddenly don't. ifdef? ifndef? (if not defined). no matter what, every permutation of these will have a "valid answer" and will run without problem. let me demonstrate how this fucks things up.

do you remember "heartbleed" ? the "big" openssl vulnerability ? probably about a decade ago now. i'm choosing this one specifically, since, for some reason, it was the first in an annoying trend for vulns to be given catchy nicknames, slick websites, logos, cable news coverage, etc. even though it was only a moderate vulnerability in the grand scheme of things...

(holy shit, libssl has had huge numbers of remote root vulns in the past, which is way fucking worse, heartbleed only gave you a random sampling of a tiny bit of internal memory, only after heavy ticking -- and nowadays, god, some of the chinese bluetooth shit would make your eyeballs explode if you saw it; a popular bt RF PHY chip can be hijacked and somehow made to rewrite some uefi ROMs and even, i think, the microcode on some intel chips)

anyways, heartbleed, yeah, so it's a great example since you could blame it two-fold on the cpp. it involved a generic bounds-checking failure, buf underflow, standard shit, but that wasn't due to carelessness (don't get me wrong, libssl is some of the worst code in existence) but because the flawed cpp logic resulted in code that:

A.) was de-facto worthless in definition B.) a combination of code supporting ancient crap. i'm older than most of you, and heartbleed happened early in my undergrad. the related legacy support code in question hadn't been relevant since clinton was in office.

to summarize, it had to do with DTLS heartbeats. DTLS involves handling TLS (or SSLv3, as it was then, in the 90s) only over UDP. that is how old we're talking. and this code was compiled into libssl in the early 2010s -- when TLS had been the standard for a while. TLS (unlike SSLv3 & predecessors) runs over TCP only. having "DTLS heartbeat support in TLS does not make sense by definition. it is like drawing a triangle on a piece of paper whose angles don't add up to 180.

how the fuck did that happen? the preprocessor.

why the fuck was code from last century ending up compiled in? who else but!! the fucking preprocessor. some shit like:

#ifndef TCP_SUPPORT <some crap related to UDP heartbeats> #endif ... #ifndef NO_UDP_ONLY <some TCP specific crap> #endif

the header responsible for defining these macros wasn't included, so the answer to BOTH of these "if not defined" blocks is true! because they were never defined!! do you see?

you don't have to trust my worldview on this. have you ever tried to compile some code that uses autoconf/automake as a build system? do you know what every single person i've spoken to refers to these as? autohell, for automatic hell. autohell lives and dies on cpp macros, and you can see firsthand how well that works. almost all my C code has the following compile process:

"$ make". done. Makefile length: 20 lines.

the worst i've ever deviated was having a configure script (probably 40 lines) that had to be rune before make. what about autohell? jesus, these days most autohell-cursed code does all their shit in a huge meta-wrapper bash script (autogen.sh), but short of that, if you decode the forty fucking page INSTALL doc, you end up with:

$ automake (fails, some shit like "AUTOMAKE_1.13 or higher is required) $ autoconf (fails, some shit like "AUTOMCONF_1.12 or lower is required) $ aclocal (fails, ???) $ libtoolize (doesn't fail, but screws up the tree in a way that not even a `make clean` fixes $ ???????? (pull hair out, google) $ autoreconf -i (the magic word) $ ./configure (takes eighty minutes and generates GBs of intermediaries) $ make (runs in 2 seconds)

in conclusion: roflcopter

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ disclaimer | private policy | unsubscribe

[shanesbluechicken]

Shane with an ADHD SO?

Farmer has ADHD (Shane)

This comes from my own experience and what I got from family and friends🤗

And I'm aware that I most likely didn't cover all the aspects, but I still hope that you enjoy it!

TW: heavy language

Gender: neutral

Shane definitely has to get used to your mind being all over the place sometimes.

In the morning he sees you fishing at the bridge he always crosses to get to work and then after his shift he finds the fishing rod at the exact same spot, but you're nowhere to be found.

"Where the fuck are they?"

The man literally has to track you down on a regular basis, because you just leave your equipment around town. Not that he minds though considering the sweet smiles you always shoot him when you thank him. At some point he even starts to actively look for your things, but you won't ever catch him admit it.

But he often has a hard time keeping track of your stories during your conversations, because you jump from one topic to another in such a high speed. The mornings are especially hard for him when his brain isn't properly functioning, but all of that doesn't mean you should stop ranting! Dump all the info on him! He does pay attention as much as he can and he loves talking to you.

In his eyes he finds it absolutely adorable when he finds you zoned out somewhere at the farm. Sometimes it's infront of the fire place while you're staring into the flames with wide eyes or leaned against the fence while watching the animals. He sees you just stand there without any movement for solid 30 minutes until he realizes that you're actually zoned out. Might join you actually.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I...I don't actually remember?"

"Cool."

If you take medicine then he makes sure to always accompany you when you go to Harvey's clinic or he even picks them up for you on his way to work.

"I'm sorry if I'm a bit too much sometimes."

"Shut up, you're absolutely not and whoever told you that can fuck themselves."

Shane definitely isn't annoyed by the fact that you sometimes tend to start things, but not finish them. He tries his best to help you with your projects or keep you at least motivated enough to stay at it, but if you don't finish it then so be it. He can't even count on his fingers how often that happened to him throughout his life. When you're getting frustrated about it he will bring you a cold soda from the fridge and give you a kiss on the forehead.

To be honest sending either one of you two to go shopping is going to lead to at least one item being forgotten. You tried going together to avoid it, but it doesn't particularly help much. At the end of the trip when you unpack the shopping bags you guys realize that something is still missing.

Okay, he might get a little bit impatient when he has to repeat instructions to you. It's not that he's annoyed or frustrated with YOU in particular, he just doesn't like repeating himself. So he made it a habit to write down a task or instruction while talking to you about it. It does happen that at the end of the day not even Shane can read his own hand writing so he absolutely won't blame you for not succeeding in it.

If anyone gets annoyed by you though, even if it's not anything serious Shane can and will body slam them into the closest wall.

"For yoba's sake, can you just FOCUS for once in your life?"

"The fuck did you just say? Watch how you're talking to them you fucking idiot!"

Someone hold him back before he beats up the damn governor.

Masterlist

[supercorpkid]

Powergirl Should Die - 2

Supergirl, Powergirl, B!D. Kara Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Alex Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Lena Luthor, J'onn J'onzz.

Word Count: 2840.

Part 1

Kara is the sunshine. It irradiates through her skin and you don't think there's a single soul that would be able to deny that. Your sister is always bringing good light wherever she might go. But you-

You were born to rain clouds. Always almost but never enough. Power, yes. But never Super. Even back in Krypton, you were always blessed in her shadow.

And that was fine, for most of your life. You didn’t care to hide away behind her at school. Didn’t care that when she moved to National City, you had to follow her too. But then she got you inside a skin tight suit, gave you a superhero name, and that was a little too much for you to bear.

Because now you are sleep deprived, too tired to function properly. Haven't rested a bit in days. Patrolling the city, watching everyone's step, listening to every heartbeat and shaky breath. Waiting for the worst.

It's not even that you can't rest because you don't have the time, that is only partially true. You have to go to the Museum and work. You haven't let anyone patrol the city ever since you saw that flash of red in Lena's surveillance camera. Even so, you would still have a couple of hours to nap, if only you could. If only you wouldn't wake up drenched in sweat from your nightmares.

All of them are about what's happening right now. You watch from afar seeing her blonde hair and red cape flying behind her while she writes the words that are now rooted in the depths of your mind. 

Powergirl should die. Why won't she die already?

"That's enough!" J'onn stops the arguing. His deep commanding voice is enough to make everyone shut up, including both of your sisters that had been yelling at you until a minute ago. "You are in a government space and some of you are public figures. I expect at least a little bit of decorum, and if that's not possible then the three of you should go talk somewhere private. Preferably at home."

"Fine by me." Kara says, hardening her jaw. "We're all going home." She speaks almost out of greeted teeth, only one eye blinks, so laser focus on you, it sends shivers down your spine. 

She picks Alex up, ready to fly away, but looks back at you before she does so, almost daring. You don't want to go home with them. All the previous yelling already made clear what their point was. You are getting obsessed with this 'Powergirl should die' thing. You're getting fixated, absorbed, borderline manomaniacal about it. Throwing blame around, wary of the people who are there to help you, snapping at your own flesh and blood. 

Yeah, yeah. No shit.

"Y/N, would you stay behind for a second?" J'onn says, and Kara furrows her brows at him. "She'll catch you in a moment, Kara. You and Alex can go."

"Alright." Kara leaves, but it is clear it wasn't ok by the way she said that. 

He starts walking and you follow him silently throughout the corridors of the DEO, and only stops in front of a lead covered room. "For privacy." He explains, pointing inside and you agree with your head walking in. "Would you like to tell me what the problem is?"

"Besides someone wanting me dead?" You snap. You can't really control how you sound right now, even though you wish you could. You're tired, scared, and suspicious of the very one person you should rely on the most. That makes everyone around you untrustworthy by default.

J'onn agrees with his head. And you bite the inside of your mouth to keep you from spilling the truth.

"Seems enough of a reason to me."

"You think Kara wrote it." He explains it further, saying what you've been thinking. At least someone had the courage to say it out loud. You sigh, looking down. 

It's wrong. Thinking your sister is the one writing all these terrible things about you. But what else would you think? It’s the only lead you have. The only one you need.

"It's a pretty big accusation."

You can't look him in the eyes. Even though you haven't directly said it, he could read all the messed up thoughts you were having about it. "You didn't say I was wrong."

"I didn't say you were right." J'onn counters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You're going to end up doing something you regret if you don't rest. I'm not going to argue you on this, Y/N. This is not a suggestion, it's an order from a superior. I am not giving you a shift tonight, and I hope that means you won't be on duty."

"What if the writing comes up again?"

"Then we clean it." 

"What if something more than the writing comes up this time?" You can't help the watery eyes when you say that.

He gives you a long pause, "Then we fight it."

Alright, well. You can't argue with that logic. And you also can’t argue with the fact that you are so tired, you might end up doing something stupid. 

So you agree that you won’t patrol tonight, trusting him on this, and leave the DEO. You are well aware that your sisters are waiting for you in Kara’s apartment, ready to tell you what to do. So before you face them, you send Lena a text.

You: Hey! You, me, Love Actually and Thai food tonight?

Lena: Yes, please. All of it sounds perfect ❤️

You smile at her text. Your heart doing a small loop inside you. Alright, now onto the hard part.

You fly in through the window and the second Kara notices your presence, she picks up the conversation from where it was left. 

“How long has it been since you've slept?” She asks, crossing her arms and Alex mimics her action right after. They look like two angry parents, and it makes you even more annoyed. They are not your parents. Your parents exploded 20 years before you even stepped foot on this planet, so. 

“I don’t know.” You mutter, knowing they wouldn't like the honest answer and having no energy to fight them.

“If you would just let me take over for you, mini me. I could patrol the city tonight. I promise I'll call you the second I see something suspicious and –”

“Yeah, ok.”

“What?” Kara and Alex stare at each other.

“I have direct orders from my superior to stay put. And I also have a date – I mean, a movie date – a movie thing with Lena tonight, so yeah. If you want to patrol the city, you do it.”

“Oh.” They stare at each other again, confused about your approach to this. You’ve been very demanding the past few days about how this is only about you and that no one else should get involved, and just one conversation later, you're quick to give up that control? Sounds weird. But they're not going to fight you on this, since it's exactly what they want. "Great! I'll do the patrolling and you do the date."

"And sleep." Alex adds. "Don't forget you need to sleep."

"Sure thing, mom." You force a smile then fly out of Kara's living room, and go back to work.

It’s a lot later that night when you give Lena the empty container of your already eaten Thai food, and snuggle up on her couch, throwing the blanket over your legs and trying to get as comfortable as possible. “Mmm, just FYI I might fall asleep during the movie.” You warn her. “I haven’t had a good night in a while.”

Lena hums her agreement from the kitchen, but soon she is back to her place next to you. “Something’s been worrying you?”

“I guess. But I don’t wanna bore you with that, it’s not something fun to talk about.” You smile when she gets under the blanket too, body so close her warmth irradiates through her skin. 

“You couldn't bore me if you tried, honey.”

“Au contraire, darling. I think everyone at the Museum would say I’m the most boring person alive.” You give her a side smile.

Lena shoots her head up, comically fast. She blinks at you, head clearly going one thousand miles an hour. She is thinking so hard, it's almost loud. You furrow your brows in confusion, while her mouth drops with a 'oh' sound. 

"You're ok?" You pat her leg.

There's no verbal answer. Lena's shaky hands make their way to the collar of your shirt and you sit up straighter trying to understand what's happening right now, and trying to predict what's going to happen next. 

“Lena?” You question her movements when she undoes the first button of your shirt. You swallow. It's not like you never once imagined this happening, but not like this. Not without love confessions and a whole lot of prior conversation.

“Lena, what are you doing?”

Lena doesn’t answer, doesn’t blink. Hands still shaking, but decisively making their way to the second button.

“Lena, please.” She undoes that one as well. And that's when it hits you. You are always wearing your supersuit attire under your clothes, so it's faster when you have to run out from work and such. Panic shoots through your body as you realize that if she unbuttons one more, she’ll be able to see your supersuit. You hold her hands to stop her. “Lena,” you try to smile even if your mouth is completely dry and your breath is stuck in your lungs. “Darling, shouldn’t you kiss me first, before trying to get me naked?”

Lena finally looks back at your eyes, a smile dangling on her lips to match yours. And then she gives you a smirk. “You’re not naked, though. Are you?” 

“Under my clothes? Yeah, I’m naked.” You lie with a fake chuckle. 

She untangles her hand from yours, places it behind your neck and brings your face closer. You hold your breath. Widen your eyes. This is happening. It's happening! You and Lena, it's finally happening!

“What’s going on with you tonight?” You stare down at her mouth. “I’m not complaining, I’m just confused.”

And that’s enough of a distraction for her to move her other hand and unbutton one more. Lena looks down at the white of your supersuit and the little bit of gold from the House of El crest. And you? You panic.

"I, um, I can explain." While your heart beats strongly into your ribcage and there's a loud buzz inside your ears. How do you explain yourself?

Lena seems to be inside her own little world while both hands now make all the way down undoing all of your buttons, opening your shirt to have the House of El crest staring at her in all its secrecy.  

"I'm sorry." You whisper, one tear rolling down your cheek. Because there's no explanation, really. Nothing you can say for yourself to stop Lena from hating you now.

She finally looks up to you, eyes tearing up as well, mouth agape to her recent discovery. You can see it all playing out in her eyes. She has the most expressive ones. Betrayal and anger, sadness and confusion. And then, a few seconds after two tears drop from her eyes, she raises her eyebrows at you. Eyes widening when something hits her.

"Powergirl should die." Lena whispers, swallowing deep. "Oh my God, Y/N. Someone is trying to kill you." 

She launches herself onto you, holding you tight. Her hand entangles on your hair, holding your neck strongly. 

"Oh, darling." She whispers, her body even closer now. You feel a kiss being planted on the side of your head, while you seek comfort on her arms, face buried on her neck. "No wonder you've been so careless."

"What?" 

"Au contraire, darling? Please, Y/N, I've never heard anyone say that except for you. And Powergirl, apparently." 

"Lena." You whine, embarrassed. Can't believe you made it that easy. You guess J'onn was right, you were about to do something stupid from the lack of sleep. "Someone wants me dead." You try to justify, earning a smile from her.

"You really are tired, huh?" She brings you closer again, kisses your temple. "You thought I was trying to get you naked, honey."

"Lenaaaa." You whine harder, face burning red from embarrassment. God, you're such a loser. "Can you please ignore everything I said tonight? I haven't slept an inch in four days."

Lena smiles fondly at you, while she strokes your cheek delicately. She plants a kiss there, then a light one on your lips. It's so soft, it holds no sexual implication. Just pure comfort. "Come on, Powergirl. You need a power nap."

"Oh God." You complain again, but soon Lena hugs you tight, and with your head on her chest, and Love Actually playing in the back, you're fast asleep. You don't even care if the writing shows up all over town tonight. There's no other place you'd rather be.

You wake up from your place on Lena's chest. Sometime last night she laid back on the couch and you curled yourself around her, not ready to let go. It was the first night you haven't had any nightmares.

You hear a few knocks on the balcony door, and you and Lena raise your heads at the same time to the intruder on the other side. Kara. She is smiling and waving, then she widens her eyes and turns around quickly. X-ray vision. You look down to Lena's body under yours, and your leg slotted between hers. 

"Oh my God. I'm sorry." You get up in a flash, shirt still hung open with a clear view of your supersuit. "Shit, fuck."

Lena gets up as well, trying to look less disheveled to your sister's eyes. And after you button up your shirt, you finally open the balcony door and clean your throat, so Kara can look back at you.

"Hi!" She tries with the biggest, most awkward smile ever. "Just, um, wanted to say that there's nothing new for me to, um, report?" 

You look back at Lena who knows exactly what Kara is talking about, but is looking down pretending she doesn't.

"I didn't mean to interrupt –"

"You didn't." You both are quick to say.

"Oh-kay?" Kara raises her eyebrows, a smile reaching her eyes, and you know exactly what she is insinuating. And sure, you thought the same thing last night, but you're both wrong.

"Can I get a ride?" You ask and Supergirl eagerly agrees. You turn back at Lena. "Thanks for –" You bite your tongue. You don't want to say anything in front of your sister. "Lunch later?"

"Lunch." Lena agrees with her head. And you smile before letting Kara pick you up and fly out of her balcony with you.

When you're out of sight, you untangle yourself and start flying next to her. "So no writing last night, huh?"

"Nope. Not even a kitten to rescue to keep me entertained." Kara grins devilishly at you. "You, on the other hand, was well entertained last night."

"Yeah, well. I slept for the first time in four days and had no nightmares. I'd say I was very entertained."

"Nightmares?" Kara stops flying, and you have to fly back a little, so you can talk face-to-face. "You haven't had nightmares in years."

"That's not true. I've been having them for… I guess, months now?" 

"Months?" Kara's eyebrows furrow so hard, her crinkle shows. "When did they start?"

"They're just nightmares, Kara." You argue, annoyed. But she looks at you with an expression you almost couldn’t read. It's a midst of worrisome and distrust. 

You furrow your own eyebrows, looking back at her. And then it hits you. The only reason you recognize this look, is because it's how you've been looking at her for the past four days.

"When did they start?" She repeats, strongly this time.

"I don't know." You lie. You know exactly when they started. Right after she gave you a superhero name and your first mission. Ever since, you haven't been able to sleep right.

"Let's make sure you don't have them anymore." Your sister finally breathes out. "Maybe you should try sleeping more times with Lena. It looks like she helps."

Wouldn't she like having you back at no patrolling so she can go back to the new way she found to be passive-aggressive and make you question your every single step?

"I'll pick up some extra shifts and I'm sure J'onn won't mind picking up some as well. That way you can rest your head a little."

You narrow your eyes at her, questioning her intentions. "Why don't you worry about your own enemies, and let me deal with mine?" 

She doesn't answer and you're certainly happy you rendered Kara Zor-El speechless for the first time all your life.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I'm ill again because I have the immune system of a sickly victorian child. Therefore I must project onto the harry potter next gen kids

What i think (some) of the next gen kids are like when they're sick:

Scorpius: I've already done a whole post on this but I have no idea how to link posts despite being on this site for years. the short version is, he was a sick child and constantly in and out of hospital so now he cannot gauge when he's actually really sick and needs to just rest, so albus has to forcibly keep him in the dorm or hospital wing otherwise he will still try and go to class even if actively dying

Albus: he's lowkey so dramatic. if he has a small cold you WILL be hearing about it, BUT he's super subtle. he will casually tie it into conversation to make you feel sorry for him and just keep bringing it up until youre like aw no, im so sorry man. he doesnt try with rose anymore, because she will just mock him, she knows what hes doing. he's most obvious about it to Scorpius, he'll start pouting and be like I feel sick 🥺🥺 and Scorpius is immediately like oh poor baby 🥺🥺/gen and does in fact baby him until he feels better

Rose: does not get sick and its infuriating. when there's some kind of bug going around the school, you can guarantee this girl will not get it. she thinks everyone is just being dramatic and trying to get out of class. don't come to her for sympathy unless you actually look like you're on deaths door. the most sympathy surprisingly goes to Scorpius because she has seen this idiot try to attend class whilst not being able to function properly and be escorted out

Hugo: he doesnt get sick often, like a slightly below average getting sick, but my version of hugo is so unbothered by everything, he would end up in hospital or whatever but wont tell anyone, not on purpose, he just never goes out of his way to mention anything until it specifically comes up in conversation. Hes the random kid that pops up, says he has a relevant anecdote, tells you the wildest story youve ever heard so casually, youre left like???? what the fuck?? and how has that never come up before????, then he just dissapears again

James: gets so mopey, he gets so restless and hates having to sit and wait to get better. he'll enjoy not having to go to class for like one day but when you tell him he can't go anywhere or play quidditch or anything he's immediately over it like, 😟😟 wdym??? wdym I have to just lie here until I'm better??? lemme out!!!! LEMME OUT!!!!

Lily: lowkey whiny. she's not usually super whiny but she acts like a little kid when she's sick and will constantly frown and pout and cross her arms and kick her legs. collateral of being the youngest sibling lmao. she wants people to do everything for her and will shout for people to come get the TV remote or something that's only like 2 feet away from her and just shake her arm at it until you pass it. Ginny and Harry do it for her, her brothers do not lmao

Victorie: doesn't usually get sick-sick often, but I headcanon her as being a general athlete, she likes to do triathlons in her spare time, and if she gets injured she literally has to not be able to walk before she stops. she will just keep going. have you seen female footballers? the way they will be wacked in the head and start bleeding everywhere but then be like meh I can keep going. so her.

Louis: cannot stand the wanting to throw up kind of sick. he can deal with anything else, he has a pretty good immune system, he can pretty much carry on with normal stuff, and you won't even realise he's sick, but the second he feels stomach sickness, he is pale as a ghost and out for business. lowkey has emetaphobia, he will just sit so still until he doesn't feel like that anymore trying to make it go away by just 🧍🏻‍♂️if I don't move it won't know I'm here, yk lmao. hates throwing up so fucking bad

Roxanne: takes the sickness as some kind of personal test. is dramatic in the sense that she will go full warrior mode and be like 😈 i will survive 😈 I will not be beaten by these pitiful germs 😈 and will absolutely just rock her way through it, she talks like she's on some kind of quest, and that this is some kind of evaluation of her perseverance

Fred: just lies there. will not move until he's better. doesn't get really dramatic or complain but god forbid you try and make him do something, he'll start going off about how normalised it is for people to push themselves when sick because society wants people to work themselves to death, and doesn't actually care about anyone's health, and everyone just gets so sick of hearing him, they leave him alone

Karl Jenkins: will purposefully cough on people to get them sick too "as a joke"

[saucyjothoughts]

how do you think Nace would react to walking in on kris dressing up though

if he was anything like me he’d probably just like stop functioning cause I’ve stopped being able to think properly just thinking of that to be honest

At first they'd both freeze.

(nothing nsfw under the cut, I just don't wanna clog up your feed with a longish post)

Nace stares at Kris.

Kris stares at Nace.

Kris in his new black-and-red thing (most of his dress up stuff is white and gold or baby pink) and this time he's treated himself to the full halterneck bralette, french-cut crotchless panties, and suspender belt set. He even has stockings to go with it, one of which he's in the process of pulling up above his knee when Nace walks in, knocking but not waiting for an answer before he opens the door.

"I'm just going to step outside," Nace breaks the silence at last. All the colour is drained from his face and he clears his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. "Hang out for a minute. Then come back in again. Cool?"

Kris can't speak, can't move, can't even nod. But when Nace leaves, he can hear him screaming profanities from outside the building.

When Nace returns, he waits for an answer after knocking.

Kris is Kris again, his cheeks a little red but in jeans and a t-shirt, hair scruffy. He's put some masculine body spray on.

The two of them go about their afternoon but there's an elephant in the room and Nace is dying to poke it.

"How long have you-?"

"Nope." Kris shuts him down.

"Where did you get-?"

"Nope." They are not talking about this.

"Do you want-"

"Nope."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

Kris puts his coffee down and lets out a sigh. He speaks through gritted teeth.

"What were you going to ask, Nace?"

Something gleams in Nace's eyes.

"Do you want me to do stuff to you while you're wearing it?"

It takes all of Kris's self control just to breathe. He looks Nace in the eye and he doesn't think he's joking. He doesn't think he's making fun of him.

"I don't hear a 'nope'," Nace laughs, and that's enough.

"We're done. Get out."

"Kris, I'm sorry!" But he's still laughing.

"Out!"

Nace knows better than to push Kris too far and dutifully gathers his things, puts on his shoes. They were pretty much done for the day anyway. He tells Kris that his secret is safe, that he doesn't judge and obviously no one else ever has to find out, while Kris is practically steaming with rage and embarrassment.

Nace has just enough time to turn around as he leaves, giving Kris a wink and a "think about it" before getting the door slammed in his face.

[gabessquishytum]

I don't know if you watch a lot of Japanese media but I just watched Hirokazu Koreeda's Air Doll for the first time about a plastic sex doll that comes to life and there's this one scene which was kinky enough I know would catch your interest.

So basically, I'm thinking Hob is walking home from work one day when he discovers this strange human-sized plastic doll that's been thrown out in the dumpster. It's strange because it still seems to be in very good condition and when he looks into its bold blue eyes he can't help but feel mesmerized. Now, his sex life has always been active enough that's he's never had any interest in "those" sort of toys but he decides to take it home on a whim. He doesn't think much of it until he wakes up the next morning to discover a man standing in front of his bed watching him sleep! And he recognizes Dream as the former sex doll right away(the airplug for a belly button kind of gives it away). Neither understands quite how this happens but after some long conversations they just decide to roll with it and live together as roommates. Only problem is Hob finds Dream suuuper attractive but doesn't know how to deal with his feelings considering Dream's probably gone his entire existence only being seen as a sexual object.

One day, while cleaning, Dream accidentally pokes himself on something and quickly begins to deflate. With some quick thinking, Hob tapes up the cut and starts blowing into Dream to revive him. Dream starts to inflate again but as he's blowing, Hob begins to notice ... that's not all that beginning to inflate.

I am not familiar with this particular story I have to admit, but! Speaking of people turning into objects, when the trailer for Chicken Nugget came out, I was like. What if Hob got turned into a chicken nugget and Dream had to take care of him and stop him from being eaten. BUT! I digress.

Blow up doll Dream is terrified that he's deflating, because he assumes that there's no way back. But Hob helps him, comforts him, puts his own mouth over Dream’s mouth to blow air inside him! Dream goes from scared to horny very quickly. Hob’s dedication to saving his life plus the erotic sensation of his mouth just feels incredible in every possible way. His cock starts to fill and inevitably he finds himself standing in front of Hob, incredibly hard. His body is flushed red. Hob is so apologetic, he should have blown into Dream’s proper airhole instead of his mouth, he's so sorry... meanwhile Dream is trembling and hard and he wants to be inside Hob so so much that it actually hurts. He needs to fulfil his purpose....

But he's also feeling romantic attraction for the first time ever, and that's so confusing! He wants Hob to hold him. He wants to be properly loved, not just used for temporary pleasure. Well, he's in luck! Because Hob’s sweet hands are caressing the place where he was taped up, murmuring words of comfort, even draping a bathrobe around Dream to protect his modesty post-deflation. All little acts of love.

And if he leads Dream to bedroom afterwards, and spreads his legs for Dream to use his well-prepped hole....... well, that's an act of love too. Dream feels it, as he sinks his hard, aching, (beautifully plastic) cock into Hob for the first time. He finally feels loved, and like his function is something to be rather proud of after all.

[formula1fanfiction]

Alex Albon / George Russell

Title: Wreck my plans

Pairing: Alex Albon / George Russell

Characters: Alex Albon, George Russell

Prompt: Alex finds out George is an omega

Things at the paddock have been weird for the past few races, the FIA had every one retest to prove their status because someone had pretended to be a Beta. That someone happened to be George Russell.

Alex doesn't mind that George is an omega, not even the slightest it's the fact George never told him. That's why he's angrily stomping towards George's room for answers.

George looks very dishevelled when he opens the door, half naked his hair sticking up at random angles and the smell, it hits Alex like a ton of bricks, it's sweet and heavenly. It's how George usually smells, just a million times stronger.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Alex pushes George out of the way and enters the room. The smell inside is even stronger, it's overwhelming it makes him want to push his face into George's neck and scent him.  

"I'm sorry Lex, nobody knew only Aleix." There's something off about George, he's sweaty, vacant and can't even look at Alex. "I'm your best friend George, why wouldn't you tell me, talk to me George."

"It's just been so hard, my blockers don't work anymore, I sent Max into at rut and the whole red bull garage are fuming, we- Toto and I thought by getting everyone retested, there may be more Omega's but it's only me Lex."

Alex pulls George into a half cuddle, the omega melts into it. His smell is so strong, there is a mixture of George himself, mixed with something else, something he can't explain. "George, are you in heat?"

"No, I had a stress heat after Australia. It's just the after math of that. I'm still producing slick and my smell is strong but it's not a proper heat." Just gives a little shrug. "So.. If I fucked you right now, would you get pregnant?"

"Why are you being so horrible?" George recoils away a mixture of anger and hurt on his face. Alex meant it as a joke he really did, he's making a mess of this, but that smell is just so strong and his brain can't function properly, his cock is aching like hell pressing against his pants.

"George, I really am sorry it's your smell, i've never smelt you like this before." George smiles, relief floods through his body. "Sorry Lex, i'm pretty stinky right now and Toto had to help with heat stuff." Alex, doesn't mean to growl and the squeal George lets out in response almost makes him come in his pants.

"Can I take a shower?" George nods, he looks pretty wrecked himself. Alex runs into the bathroom before he does something stupid like, jump George and fuck him hard.

Alex tears off his clothes and climbs into the shower without giving the water chance to warm up, he needed to get the fuck away from George as soon as possible, before he does something he might regret. He loves George and he likes to think he'd be able to stop himself pouncing on his best friend, but that fucking smell is something else.  

Alex has to wonder how George had managed to keep the secret from him for all these years. When he thinks about it properly, he has no idea how he didn't notice, other than racing, George is incredibly submissive, always lets someone else take charge of situations, just happy to sit back and take orders.  

He shakes his head, trying to get all thoughts of George out of his brain, his cock is rock hard and standing proud against his stomach. The fucking thing won't go down, even with the water still freezing. George and his fucking smell, George and that squeal he let out when Alex growled. Why does George have to be so god damn sexy?

It's wrong, he knows it's wrong to jerk off to your best friend, the guilt creeps in as he runs his fingers down his abs and wraps his fingers around his aching shaft. Alex tries to justify it, by telling himself it's only natural to get a hard on over an omega who's in heat, or at least smells like  he's in heat.  

Alex starts to pump his cock, furiously fucking his fist as quick as he can, he feels guilty enough as it is, he just needs to come fast and just forget this ever happened. Dirty thoughts of George filter through his brain. George naked in the shower, soap dripping down his ass cheeks.

The thoughts of doing naughty things to George, roughly bending him over in the Williams Garage, perfect ass on show, while Alex roughly pounds into him showing everyone what a little slut he is. Alex would enjoy the little whimpers and moans, making George cry out in pleasure, while forcing him to show everyone who he really belongs to. God Alex's brain is a vile place to be right now.

The orgasm happens so much faster than he thought, not that he's complaining. He screams out George's name as the pleasure rips through him, spilling onto the tiles below him. Alex leans against the shower cubicle watching his release wash down the drain as he tries to get his breathing somewhat under control. Poor George, Alex feels like a dirty, horrible person.

"Shit, are you okay? You screamed my-" George is out of breath as he runs into the room, eyes wide seeing Alex in his current state. Fuck, he must have screamed George's name out loud, what a fucking idiot. The situation is not at all helped by Alex's cock still hard. "Wow Alex, yours is so much bigger than Toto's." He can't keep his eyes off Alex's cock.

"Do you like what you see, Georgie?" Alex smirks, pushing his thumbs under George's chin and tilting, forcing him to make eye contact. George's eyes are hazy and it knocks his confidence a little bit. "You don't want this George, it's your heat or whatever you said your body was doing." It's so hard to say that, when all he wants to do is take George and fuck him hard against the shower.

"Mm not in heat." George shakes his head. "The symptoms yes, but I know what I want Alex, my brain is clear." George closes the distance between them and rubs himself against Alex's body. “You are so big and hard, I need you to take me, please.”

"You're my best friend, I don't want to take advantage of you." Alex tries to put distance between George and himself but the omega seems to have other ideas and pushes Alex back into the shower. "I'll be a good omega, I promise."

"Like you could ever be a bad omega." Alex steadies George by the hips and presses him up against the tiles. "You never answered my question, if I knot you, will you get pregnant?" Why did he look into George's eyes, there is no going back now.

"I can't get pregnant from a stress heat." George whines. "Please Lex, i'm so horny my body keeps producing slick and it won't stop, I just want your massive alpha cock inside of me." The alpha inside of him is screaming, having a begging horny omega in front of him. "Are you sure, Georgie?"

"Please."  Alex just can’t take George, and his needy omega behaviour anymore, and slams him up against the glass of the shower cubicle. George groans, in delight finally getting what he wants and spreads his legs, as wide as possible, ready for his alpha. Alex growls’ placing a hand on either one of George’s thighs. He can see the shining slick, running down his legs. “Fuck George you are so wet.” Alex trails his hand down the globe of George's ass. “You have no idea how badly I wanted you, even wanted you when you were a beta."

"Always been an omega, Lex." Alex presses his nose against George's scent gland and inhales, George mewls in pure pleasure, he's so easy, grateful for smallest amount of contact. "I want you inside of me, please. Make me yours, I can't wait any longer."  Alex's alpha instincts are going crazy.

Alex presses three fingers against George's hole and sinks them inside, George jerks in his arms. "Please, I can take you, no fingers." Trust George to be a bossy omega. Alex holds George's hips tightly and slam inside of him with one swift move. The noise George makes alone could bring Alex to orgasm, he's so open and wet around Alex. It feels like here's exactly where he's supposed to be.  

"You're mine now, Georgie, mine all mine." Alex growls into George's ear, picking up a rough pace, slamming into him with such a force that his body collides against the wet tiles. "All yours Alex, only yours."

Alex angles his thrusts to hit George's prostate, wanting to make the omega feel as good as possible. "Now i've got you, i'm never letting you go." The urge to bite George is so strong, instead he bites down on his shoulder, drawing blood at the same time as an extra hard thrust. That's all it takes for George to come with a scream, going limp in Alex's arms.

"Are you okay, Georgie?" Alex picks up the pace a little bit. "All yours now, Lex." Alex purrs in pure pleasure, feeling his knot to start to swell, he can't wait to have it inside of George. "I'm going to knot you, baby." Alex's thrusts, slow down, until the size of the knot stops him all together. George moans contracting around him.

"It was a stupid idea to let you knot me in the shower." George moans grumpily pressing his forehead into the tiles. "Yeah, were stuck like this now." Alex giggles, presses a kiss to the bloody bite on George's shoulder.

"It was only stupid, because we're in the shower, right George?" The guilt and the doubts start creeping in. "Don't be silly Lex, i'd have you knot me years ago, I recon it's a good thing though, we'd have at least ten pups by now."

"Are you sure you're not in heat?" George's whole body spasm's as the knot finally pops, filling him with Alex's come. "No, i'm in love with you, you fucking idiot."

"Good thing you're my omega now, isn't it?"