#imagine being so cool that a god stops time so you can fuck your wife

[thebeeper]

now that the ithaca saga is out i'd like to just put it out there that, in the original text, after they reunite odysseus and penelope immediately run off to fuck - obviously (20 years at sea away from your wife call that the wettest dry spell mankind's ever seen). BUT while they're getting all hot and heavy, athena decides to put her owl motif to good use and wingman for odysseus by quite literally holding off the dawn until they're fully satisfied (od. 23.345-248). which is just. what a way to end off one of the greatest pieces of storytelling in human history

[coryosbaby]

loser!jace velaryon with a slight older and dommy reader. she loves teasing him in public settings till he begs and then overstimming him to tears. maybe a mommy kink in there sometime. god i love jace.

18+, MDNI !!

LOSER! JACE VELARYON, to start off, has had a crush on his betrothed since he was a child. He thought he could never have a chance with such a beautiful and alluring woman, a goddess in disguise as a human being. But when it was time for him to find a wife, boy was he surprised. She had fucked him stupid before the two of them were even wed.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON had never been experienced. He had heard about the acts of sex from the men around him because of the prostitutes they took to bed. But he was raised better than that and he didn’t see a point in those sort of indulgences.

Until he met her. Then he became the neediest and most infatuated man. He even grew out the locks of his hair so she could yank on it more when he enjoyed his meal— the one between her thighs, of course.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON starts calling his wife mommy. Mummy, to be exact, because of his accent, but for the sake of the word let’s just say mommy. He doesn’t know exactly where the satisfaction from the word derived from. He thinks it may be because she’s a tad bit older than him and makes him feel nurtured and loved.

And Gods, does he sound so beautiful and sweet when he says it. It slips off his tongue in pretty, whiny words. “Mommy, can I touch you here?” “Mommy, I need you.” “Mommy, you’re so warm.” It’d be a shame if no one got to experience the desperate sound of his cracking voice when he’s just on the cusp of release.

Which is why his wife decides to tease him. LOSER! JACE VELARYON is at a wedding celebration when her palm skims over his most perfect spot. She notices the way his thighs tense up and he tries to keep composure— he’s in a seat at the dinner table, but that doesn’t mean the others around him aren’t at risk of noticing.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON tries not to sound so whiny when the men of the court ask him questions. He grabs ahold of her hand that’s squeezing him— a beg to stop this now, because this is important, mommy, because we can’t do that— but he can’t resist her for long. No, it’s a mere five minutes before he’s excusing him and his wife for a leave to one of the mostly empty corridors, his eyes on her corseted back and imagining the way she looks spread open on his fat cock. Gods, he can’t wait.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is pushed against the stone wall of the corridor, eyes rolling and mouth falling open when his wife drops to her knees. She looks beautiful, a true Targaryen beauty. He’s never seen someone so perfect. His hand finds its way into her hair— it isn’t done up like usual. She must’ve been expecting this.

Her fingers deftly undo his trousers, smiling when his girthy length slaps up against his stomach. He’s all flushed pink and wet, aching for a hole to fill, and she knows it.

“What a naughty boy you are,” she teases, in that angelic lilt of hers. She trails a finger up his length, and he lets out a groan. “Getting all worked up in front of all those people. Tell me, husband. What do you think they’d do if they knew their little Velaryon prince was whining like a girl for his beloved’s mouth?”

He bites his lip, eyes scrunching closed.

“They would think…” he breathes out a sigh when her tongue laps at him teasingly. “They would think im a whore, mommy.”

“That’s right, sweet one. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

He nods, because he knows it’s the truth. Her hand wraps around him and lightly tugs. His hips move against the sensation, and his wrist moves up to be bitten by his teeth. She notices, and grabs his elbow. His arm is back at his side in a second, clutching onto the cool surface of the stone wall.

“No,” she says. “Let them all hear you, little prince. Let them hear you when I taste this sweet cock.”

He lets out a whine, watching as she takes his glittering, pink head into your soft mouth. She suckles him gently, playfully, and hums like a kitten at the taste of his precum. He’s delicious. She could eat him up for hours.

LOSER! JACE VELARYON is soon crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as she works her hand over him still, her fingers dripping with his first—second?— release. He can still hear the ongoing party as he shakes against the wall. He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

“Mommy. Mommy, it’s too much, please..”

“Don’t be difficult, Jace. Don’t you want to make me proud?”

Fuck, he wants it so bad he can’t breathe. He nods, plump lip quivering. He wonders when the party will be over…

LOSER! JACE VELARYON lets out a tiny whimper of fear when he hears the sounds of footsteps moving down the corridor. He comes to his senses for a mere moment, regardless of the fact that his wife’s hand is still pumping his cock. But she’s clever and she’s calm— she presses her hand to his shoulder and uses the leverage to push him against the corner of the corridor, a corner that has an extra wall built onto it and makes a tiny nook of secrecy and disretion. Jace hears the voices of his relative Alicent Hightower and her traitor knight, Sir Criston. Vastly approaching still, while his beloved’s hand works his dick, she speaks in a hushed whisper.

“Filthy, naughty boy. Cock out and covered in cum. You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

He can’t help it. LOSER! JACE VELARYON cries out his wife’s name, face twisted into carnal pleasure, and cums. Creamy white squirting all over her wrist and dress, balls drawn up tighter than a rubber band. He thinks she might’ve put a spell on him, this woman.

She smiles, listening to the awkward and rushed sound of Alicent and Sir Criston leaving the corridor when they realize the adultery occurring. Jace’s wife brings her fingers up to her mouth and gently sucks the spend off her thumb.

“You’re doing so good for mommy. I think you can handle one more. Don’t you think, little prince?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[icarusredwings]

I rewatched Deadpool 2 and took notes.

Disclaimer: He's mentally ill and does mentally ill things (GASP, who would have thought?). Also, violence. A lot of violence. It's really long. Like.. really really long.

The very first words he says is "fuck wolverine"

Then blows his own head off with a shit ton of gasoline. Wonder if he had insurance on that appartment.

He started taking worldwide cases

He also admits to knowing "8th grade spanish"

"Passion of the christ. Then me." Says the man whos marvel jesus now.

I wonder how much wade owes cab guy.

Cab guy killed bandu Lmao

"What is it?"

"My IUD"

"A bomb??" Tell me why he was lowkey excited for it to be a bomb?

I love how serious he gets talking about how scared he is to be a dad.

This empire joke traveled from the first movie too.

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way but we can try" yes.

When making toaster strudles its almost as if he could sense them coming despite it being so silent. This kind of makes me think that Logans not the only one who just jumps up sometimes.

This man really just said "Fuck it" jumped out of a 2 story window, BOLTED after this guy as fast as he could, got hit by a car, rammed another car, and whole ass hugged this guy before jumping in front of a truck with him. I don't want to see anyone try to tell me he's one sandwitch drop away from jumping off a cliff.

Cinatography by Blind Al.

Directed by one of those guys that killed john wicks dog.

God I love Ryan Reynolds because you know it was him.

Wade stop peeing your pants in public.

Weasel "We still have bowie..." Yeah id lie to him too at this point.

"Yeah im fine"

Fucked up

Insecure

Needy and

Emotional. Kübler ross apprently.

"Buck no more speaking lines for you" and he meant that shit.

Al is so humble and sweet. Making tea and giggling. Tries to shoot him and then just hears him collapse on the floor. How many times do you think he collapses on the floor a week? Just to be drimatic?

"Sweetheart can you speak up? Its a little hard to hear you with yhat pity dick in your mouth" Oh so shes his mom. Al is his fucking mom. Hands down. And the best one.

I love how he decided to do an entire bag of cocaine before dying. There was no reason for it and honestly was a waste of cocaine until you realize that these cocaine is wades whiskey. Shots dont work for him really, probably because hes already done it so much, but its the same way how Logan chugs that bottle before wade kidnaps him. Its easier to blame it on a substance then accept those were your actions.

Ness is so cute. The poster behind her has "I love you wade wilson" scratched into it. Its nice to know that his version of heaven is literally just a cozy Saturday morning with his wife.

Colossus just walking in to find wades body parts everywhere and put him in a bag like old dirty clothes lol

"Why cant I fucking die" tone was SO serious.

The fact that theres an x men rule book and its lowkey thicker then a bible. I bet you scott and Logan made 80% of those.

"That asshole was me" oh the tears. Baby boyy.

Wait isnt cable literally scotts son.

Im never going to understand this fucking time line jesus christ

Mutant rehabilitation?? What is he a drug addict? That kid is clearly in pain dipshits.

"X men trainee" is so funny

"Please stop cheating on me"

Daniel the pedophile looking ass

Bro casually signs ryan reynolds on the wolverine cereal box and then destroys his knee caps.

"Those guys hurt you??" It was at that moment, wade went ape shit.

Wade having fun in prison is so him. But come on imagine going to prison just for standing up to an abused child. Not to mention, His face when he immediately realizes how fucked he is and that "oh shit I actually DO have cancer now and it SUCKS"

Is it just me or does Cable reminds you of forge with all his cool fix it abilities. Or is he just futurey.

He didn't say were not friends to make him upset but to draw attention to himself. Him just eye rolling when stabbed in the hand was so funny too because he was like "Ouch. God damn it. Ducking OUCH."

Hes literally pleading with russel to find someone else to peotect him or hes gonna get molested because he cant do anything. His entire power is replacing dead cells WITH new cancer cells. His entire body is dying 24/7 but never fast enough to actually kill him, always regrowing way too quickly. Cancerous is better then dead.

"Get away from me kid" yeah cause he knows hes trouble and he REALLY doesn't wanna watch this kid die.

"Who the hell tries to kill a 14 year old boy"

"Kids give us a chance to be better then we used to be"

Dopinder is so wholesome. I love him so much. No i dont care that he killed a guy. Hes the type of friend you call to take to the movies or the zoo once every year and hes stoked just to be invited.

Peter: I just thought it looked fun :D

Dopinder: FUCK

Peter is that one dad whos kids left the nest and now he needs friends and a hobby so searches for the biggest weirdos he can find.

"Grab the boy- NOT INAPPROPRIATELY >:("

i love his crayon maps/plans

Oh my god weasel im not telling you anything ever again you snitch (same dude, cable is terrifying)

After crying over the love he has for his new team (x force) Wade confirms that he spent 10 years in special forces.

I love how supportive wade is with Peter despite him just being a normal dude only for him to immediately die LMAO

He just cassually lets his impulse win in which he steals a moped.

Oh i just noticed Dominos vitiligo. I always loved vitiligo charaters. Theyre so unique and barley ever given movie roles. Like why not?? Why wouldnt you want someone so beautiful? Im pretty sure she just has make up but it would be cool if not.

Something else is that cable just starts yeeting criminals out onto the street lol

"Theres nothing I cant kill" Let me intorduce you to the man whos on a constant road to dying but can never actually get there.

Im assuming cable wants to kill russel because he unleashes a big bad guy or something.

*cassually snaps neck back into place* Oh god that hurt!

Oh I was right! It was Juggernaut :)

Wade: *gets excited about being PHYSICALLY ripped in half*

"Rub my legs mama 🥺 I got growing pains"

"Oh noo! No no no Dp not again!" We love you Dopinder. Do not ever stop caring. "This shits happened before!?" Yes weasel. Sometimes your friends get ripped in half. Get used to it.

Wade just moves her gun to the right position.

Wade talking about saving russel is so serious that it makes you forget that he has a tiny baby ass rn. I couldn't make a deal with someone woth tiny baby legs... just... no. Not to mention that those baby legs are made of cancer.

"50 years from now you're super fucking dead"

Wade standing outside of the xmen mansion with his phone and a picture of a boom box playing music for Colossus to come outside and help him save russel is something i can see happening to Logan. They have a fight and he storms off to the mansion only for wade to stand outside like that.

"Hi Wade🎀✨️" "Hi Yukio!🥹 you guys make a super cute couple 😊 where was I? 🤨"

"So you wear a helmet so your brother cant read your mind?" "Yeaaahh" average kid conversations.

"Lets fuck some shit up is my legal middle name"

Okay sir edgelord.

Apprently wade has a gluten sensitivity

What is it with wade and metal men??? My man has a type.

"Im just gonna use this brick and maximum effort" Same wade. Same.

Yaayy!! Go yukio! Eveyone loves yukio.

"Thats how we do it in mother russia" What? Shoving an electrical cable up their ass and then put them in a pool? Damn. Ok.

That "I never should have never left you in that prison" with the hug? Man hed be a decent dad I think.

"Dont be ive been trying to make this happen for awhile" okay someone supervise him 24/7. Hes on the active watch list.

Wade: *is dying* Hi Yukio :D

Yukio: Hi wade :)

"R-dog" Oh my god hes too cute.

Them carrying the racist joke all the way til the end made me cringe but that was the point.

His last words being "do you wanna build a snow man?" Is such a deadpool thing.

I was NOT expecting to cry at the end of this stupid ass movie, AGAIN

"Dont fuck colossus" VANESSA KNEW

THE FUCKING COIN

"Is there a knife in my dick?" "There's a knife in your dick."

Oh I just didn't even notice she has heterochromancia! <3 Aahh!!

PFFT DOPINDERS SECOND CONFIRMED KILL

"WERE DEFINITELY NAMINF OUR KID CHER"

"Dont scratch!" *shoots himself 8 times* "Love you! Bye."

Wolverine: ???

[rubyclover]

Hear me out. Lucifer obviously has daddy issues (for 2 reasons) and a daddy kink. You can’t change my mind. I doubt he knows the kink exists but it wakes up after seeing Adam handle some rowdy hellborn children with finesse. The King is down bad. Wants nothing more than to lay his head between those pigeon pecs while being scolded and praised. He needs to be told where he succeeded at being a dad. Tell him how to do better. It would relax him so much to finally have some solid direction… and leave him horny.

The First Man was also The First Dad so he has all the tips and tricks after raising a herd full of kids with Eve.

Naturally Adam’s sinner ability is just DAD. The dude literally has a Dad Mode he snaps into. He looks 100% human; no horns or wings etc, just straight up disgruntled, plump, human rocker dad. The kind that teaches their kids swear words at age 2 to weaponize them and will fight the bully’s parents on no evidence. ‘These hands are rated E for Everyone! My snot nosed little rug rat said so!’

Imagine Adam arguing with Alastor when suddenly, without turning away from the roadkill eating prick, he screams-

Adam: ‘ANGEL DUST YOU TAKE THAT BACK OUT RIGHT NOW!!!’

*Angel Dust taking his bag full of drugs back out from the toilet’s water tank 2 floors up:* Holy shit how does he know?! I wasn’t doin’ nothin’!

*Adam now looking directly up at Angel Dust:* I have eyes everywhere (he does not) and can smell the disappointment from here (he can not). Fucking trash that shit or give it to the plants. I don't care which one but you're doing it NOW or so help me GOD I'll do it FOR you!

Half pint is just sitting on the couch trying not to pop a boner because his imagination is running wild. And it’s not even the vanilla daddy kink. It’s more like DILF kink mixed with daddy kink. It’s Adam’s surprising competency in an area that Lucifer struggles that gets him. He’s not looking to call Adam Daddy or anything.

How can Adam be such a cool Pa without flashy techniques? Able to pull trivia for getting food stains out of difficult fabric with random ingredients from the wild, how to tell when your kid has a crush years before they realize, know when to comfort teenagers and when to let them come to you, how to catch your kid in a lie? Magical!

Things like that.

Ok so yeah he wants to be called a good boy for trying to parent when everyone tells him he’s shit. Is that so much to ask? But Lucifer has competition from several powerful people in Hell because hello? The original DILF is in Hell now and he looks human. Nobody else looks close to that and rarity is scarcity in a depraved marketplace like Hell.

The problem is Dad Mode isn't a defensive or offensive ability. DM functions like the old fairytales surrounding parents supposedly having supernatural abilities. So Adam will just know things, appear suddenly when you're plotting mischief, vaguely see from the back of his head, cook food with mild physical and emotional healing properties and such. DM is funny but ultimately anyone can gank him.

So obviously the Big Bad King of Hell will have to watch over Adam so that no funny business happens. The new Sinner is practically defenseless. Exactly how Lucifer likes him because it's like Eden again. So Adam is living in The King's end of the wing, in his tower, and is rarely out of his sight.

Just low key daddy/dilf kink for Lucifer and Adam doing it for him.

[Note: Cain still killed Able but the majority of Adam and Eve’s time on Earth wasn’t as horrific as it could have been. The husband and wife mostly dealt with illnesses, ugly human emotions, sabotage, the wildlife and famine. Sin got worse after Adam's kids died because the angels stopped closely working with humanity. So while there is pain between Lucifer and Adam this version got lucky.]

[likeabitchylamb]

i'm gonna ramble about my favorite characters in supernatural because it changes so much as the show goes on and each character is different in each season and with each writer. Like, Sam in the early seasons with the demon blood, his brand of daddy issues, his trying to be good but everyone including heaven is telling him he's nothing more than a demon blood-drinking vessel of Lucifer, and he'll sacrifice himself to save the world and stop the apocolapse. oh my god i think about that every five minutes. he's just a long, shaggy-haired, too-tall, and too-kind young man. he sees the best in everyone, and tries to redeem monsters when he can because if he can save them, he can save himself, right? and later on I think about the soulless sam and hallucinating lucifer and the ramifications of being in the cage for so long, and all that so often. but then... idk he has his moments from time to time, but it felt like his character finished and just needed a woman to pair off with because TV character arcs always end with characters marrying, but he didn't even properly get that? he married an off-screen woman after his actual love interest DIED!

then we get dean, who started out as the typical beer-loving cool womanizer dude who loves his family, his car, and hunting things. then he gets broken down as the show goes on into exploring his daddy issues, and it was never something i really fully loved until later on, mostly because the show was always so insistent on keeping his Cool Status at first. then he did and it was always so good. but the show always put a beer back in his hand, a gun in his pocket, and I always left the season feeling like there was more to be explored. he can yell, scream, and cry, but he was never allowed to truly grow from those experiences. he died a hunter, after explicitly showing that was the last thing he wanted.

casiel. oh my god i love castiel. he very quickly became my favorite character above sam with his lack of understanding social queues and his relationship with heaven. ohhhhhh my GOD his relationship with heaven. that scene at the bench where he's begging for clarification and a sign and for god to talk to him????? I'm sobbing. at times i felt like his character's arcs were forced, or his arc was too quick, or off-screen, but that's a by-product of the studio keeping him as a side character so misha had a max number of episodes to show up in. i really hate not seeing "starring: misha collins" because misha really is the heart of the character. just like everyone, but especially misha. he kept castiel around and brought him to life beyond what was expected and that was how it was from day fucking one of his portrayal. oh my god.

also, adam! because his bitterness and spite and hatred always felt So Real. imagine you're him, and your dad travels for his job, but comes to baseball games and he's nice and all. then he disappears and suddenly two men, kinda older than you, show up saying all sorts of crazy shit. they're your father's children from his first marriage before his wife died when they were super young -what?- and his job was hunting monsters -what the fuck?- and you're actually a dark secret in his life and they are fucking pissed cause he was such a shit dad to him -what the FUCK?- oh, and he's dead, killed by a demon -what the actual FUCK- then you get possessed by -get this- the archangel Michael and before you can even begin to properly process that angels exist and the apocolapse is happening because you're still reeling over the fact that your dad was a deadbeat to his two other children who were raised to hunt monsters and your family was like a vacation getaway for him so he can pretend to be normal instead of raising his two other children properly, but you can't think about THAT because oh my god sam took control of lucifer and dragged you and Michael, btw in the same body, down to the hell. but not normal hell, oh no, this is the cage where time is so much faster and you're there for hundreds of years and lucifer is torturing sam and it's awful and you're stuck there with Michael and wow, did he ever say goodbye to his mom (note: i forget if his mom is even alive or talked about, but i assume so) Then you get brought back, and of COURSE YOU HATE EVERYONE!!!

[snootlestheangel]

I’m on break so I’m throwing this in your inbox really quickly!

I live a good zombie apocalypse au. Can never go wrong with those.

That title! Holy shit that’s such a cool title! Death Doesn’t Want Me! You always have such fun titles!

I love the idea of scary ass Ghost being the only military in this group of civilians. As if he needed more of a reason to stand out.

Then you add in that a lot of the group is Soap’s family! Aaaaaahhhhh! I fucking love that!

The angst! Ghost seeing Soap in different aspects of his family. And the kids! Him wondering if the others are okay. If Soap is doing alright.

The assholes disagreeing with Ghost and Soap’s siblings + partners instantly backing him up. Not just because Ghost is their best shot at staying alive. But also because he’s their Johnny’s friend. That makes him practically family!

Can you imagine one of the kids starts imitating Ghost?! And the kid has a Mohawk because they used to imitate Soap!

I really do love the title. "Death Doesn't Want Me" is such a badass title for a Zombie Apocalypse story

Oh god the mental image of a tiny MacTavish child imitating Ghost stop please

The actual siblings of Soap's that are in this group are his oldest siblings (his brother and one of his sisters.)

Oliver was an ER doctor and his wife, Eleanor, was head nurse. They have 4 kids: the eldest a 17 year old boy, then a 12 year old girl, and twin 8 year old boys.

Sarah and her husband have 2 kids: a 13 year old girl, and a 7 year old girl.

But here's my thought process for this story

Ghost doesn't want to group up with people now that the world is ending.

He's lost too many people, he doesn't want to get attached to anyone else.

Death doesn't want him, it seems like. Death has always skipped him over and taken those around him.

But Ghost who sees a group of civilians gathered around a bus with a smoking engine, clearly not able to work anymore. He can tell they're arguing, and at first he just wants to slip on by undetected.

But then he hears the sound of a Scottish woman asking if they could just stop arguing for one second and listen. He hears a British man telling her to shut up, definitely poking at her accent at the same time.

And then Ghost sees the kids. Mostly early teens/preteens but a couple younger ones as well.

And suddenly Ghost just can't walk by. Suddenly he's stepping in between two men as a fight almost breaks out. His presence alone is enough to force everyone into silence.

The Scottish woman takes the opportunity to speak her piece. Which is that heading in the direction the British guy wants to is dangerous and stupid. That there's a place in the opposite direction that hopefully still stands where they'll be safe. Where their children will be safe.

And if Ghost death glares the assholes into agreeing, then that's between them: he had his back to the MacTavish family for that.

And so he kind of lingers behind the group as they slowly make their way on foot. He still has all his military gear, his sniper rifle resting along his back for the most part. Everyone knows he's not to be trifled with, especially knowing he's the only one with a gun.

He obviously pieces it together: the Scottish family in the group is Soap's family, and it's part of the only reason he sticks around long after the assholes either go their separate way or die off to the undead hordes.

But Ghost just "haunts" the group. Never speaks (can't say force himself to find the words), just communicates in grunts and nods (can't look too long or else he'll get attached), and just does his job as their self appointed body guard.

He loves the way they share stories at night, whispered quietly. He loves hearing the way they talk about what they'll do when reunited with the rest of their family. When they're reunited with Johnny. He can't bring himself to get any closer though. He just can't lose them, if not for his sake but for Johnny's.

He hears them when they whisper quiet hopes of seeing everyone alive. And his heart breaks just a bit when Soap's big sister (Sarah) quietly tells her husband how she wishes Johnny's Simon is okay too, and that wherever they are, they're together.

It's the first time Ghost realizes Soap talks about him to his family. That despite having never once brought up the topic of meeting his family, John MacTavish still spoke so highly of him that he's practically already a part of the MacTavish family.

Sarah who has always been the closest to Soap. Sarah has always been his safe place to talk about his feelings and to go to when he's not feeling well. Sarah who wants so badly for her baby brother to experience what it's like to be happy with a partner. She worries so much about him.

All the meanwhile, Soap, Gaz, and Price are scouring the country trying to find Ghost and the rest of Soap's family. Soap is desperately trying not to lose hope every night they come up empty handed.

I have this image in my head of one moment where they encounter some bandits or some shit. Ghost indicates that he'll talk to them, which leaves everyone confused.

Next thing they know, they're running as a fight between Ghost and the bandits breaks out.

It's almost an hour later when Ghost finally makes it back to them. But there's clearly something wrong.

He stumbles in and says "I got stabbed" before sitting in a chair and showing the rather large knife sticking out of his side. Oliver thought he had seen it all, being an ER doctor, but this takes the cake. Ghost just has an incredible pain tolerance and he's just eerily calm about the whole thing.

Obviously this is when the mask gets taken off and against his own wishes, he gets closer to the family. Eventually it's revealed to them he's Johnny's Simon and blah blah blah

Obviously a happy reunion with Soap

Also this is what I imagine Ghost looks like in this

[twosomeofcuteness]

DW Season Finale Thoughts! (Spoilers below the cut)

Sorry, Mrs. Flood is dead???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? She was teased the entire season and now she's just dead? WTF

Kate noooooo I miss you come back

Hey wait a second, where's rose?

Please don't nickname the god of death

What's this weirdo ship. Oh. Thx doc. Aw Mel hugging the tie

"We're on fire" gives me the same vibe as "I'm in danger" and I can't explain why

Great work gang.

Now wait a second cause I thought everyone was supposed to be dead except Ruby (based on the episode description)

goddamn it's 73 yards again

Okay this sutekh stuff is fun and all but can we get to the part where River Song is Ruby's mom and also please can River Song be Ruby's mom and also not dead and please can River come back I miss her

Welp. Everyone's dead ig 'cept these three.

Hey wait if everyone everywhere you landed is dying wouldn't that kill the Vashta Nerada on the library planet? Cause that'd be pretty cool actually

Aw nice the motherfuckers (daleks) are dead. A win.

Hey wait a second, why haven't we seen the daleks this season I kinda miss the mfs

oml doctor stop with the pity party it's gonna be okay

okay actually nvm gimme more of the feral screaming cause that's real as hell

Okay but also where is the fun in everything and everyone being dead? What are you gonna do with the rest of your life now Sutekh???? HUH?? Did you think of that???

Okay okay so Ruby is greater than the doctor that's interesting to know... Maybe cause her mom is River Song child of the TARDIS????? (Guys I really want River to come back, I can't help it)

doc if everyone is dead how are you talking to someone? I am confusion

Oh she dead now.

Ruby answer the time window sweetie

oh damn even the god of death wanna know who Ruby's mom is

NO don't tell her she's human please I need her to be River's kid.

NO MEL SWEETIE BABY NOOOOO

"Love a whistle" is holding hands with "love a tomb" gimme my wife back please

hey guys maybe pay attention cause Mel's not okay rn

no. leave Mel on the tardis please

this is the doctor who show. they can't kill doctor who. not permanently

nope nope, turn that screen around doc don't let me see

yessss send her to keep watch good job

poor mel. Sutekh don't hurt my babyyyy

Mel sweetie you're so strong you can fight him please sweetie

no MELLLLLLLLLLLLL BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

don't give him the name Rubes okay you can do it

literally an empty empire sounds so boring like wtf

Doc keep your mouth shut cause baby you ain't helping

RUBY NO

is ruby ruby's mom?

shut up scooby doo

YESSS RUBY

YES TARDIS BABY ILY WELCOME BACK HONEY I'M SO SORRY YOU HAD SUTEKH ON YOU FOR SO LONG WITHOUT CONSENT

MEL BABY WELCOME BACK

OMG ROSE DEAREST YOU'RE OKAY

hey it's that guy who died behind the tardis last episode. he's okay now

alright so mrs flood who tf are you?

yes welcome back the ood!!!!!

welome back random woman and her child glad you're okay

yo is doc gonna kill sutekh???

ah lit death is dead... Can River come back now??????

doctor sweetie it's gonna be okay

oh neat Susan Triad you doing great proud of you. lmaooo not with the tea then

hey wait a damn minute give ruby the credit she deserves for saving the world

NOOOOOOOO WHY ISN'T IT RIVER *SOBBINGS*

I'm sure louise is great but I wish she was River.

Nah that signpost thing was silly

lmao mel just pats his arm and walks away that's hilarious

Doc you idiot you can't take the girl to her mom and then expect her not to go in and see her mom

stop my adopted ass can't take this and neither can the doctor's cause he is not doing well.

imagine if that wasn't her though cause that'd be real funny

awkward for that store employee too

oh thank fuck I thought he was gonna abandon her

NO NO NO WAIT RUBY'S COMING BACK NEXT SEASON RIGHT?!?!?! CAUSE I LOVE HER AND I DON'T WANNA LOSE HER

DOCTOR STOP YOU DON'T LIKE GOODBYES PLEASE DON'T SAY GOODBYE NOT TO YOUR BESTIE

River didn't come back AND he said goodbye to Ruby wtf is this.

Oml mrs flood who even are you leave me alone already.

In conclusion this is how I currently feel:

[blubushie]

JESUS, your dad got his head stuck between two boards? That must've been traumatizing, god, I can't imagine going through something like that! I get you're lenient with your blog but that needed a trigger warning or something! Give your father my deepest condolences... everything else is fine, though, I guess.

[Animal Fact Anon holy shit your dad is so cool, talk about a reputation like hello??? The fucking zebra shark?? 2x malaria?? Broken ribs and a collapsed lung???? Maybe 'cool' isn't the right word but ?!?!!]

Yeah he's a bit of a mad cunt and I'm cut from the same cloth. (Also he's glad you think he's cool—"At least someone does!")

Every bloke in the family is a little... off, really?

You've got:

• Me (I don't need to explain)

• Dad (don't need to explain)

• My younger brother who branded himself with the family cattle brand. I witnessed this when I was 12 because my brother is insane and decided his little brother with a medical special interest should witness and doctor his severe burn. He also lives in Texas. The branding thing has stuck with me enough that when I was a stockman and cattle were being branded I had to stay back because I couldn't watch it without getting queasy. Not cuz I felt bad or anything it's just that the smell of burnt hair and flesh brought back memories.

• My eldest brother who dances to Billie Jean at literally every fucking wedding he's been to for the past 30 years. Also he doesn't like me. His wife REALLY doesn't like me (she thinks I'm dangerous cuz I've taken the kids shooting). He just doesn't like me cuz our dad dumped his mum for mine and had me though, so I'm the kid who had it all (ignoring how the divorce left Dad in poverty so I also grew up in poverty WOOP)

• My maternal uncle who's an ARA antivax hippie vegan and hates me. Also he's gotten COVID more times than I can count so I avoid him like the literal plague. He gives me creepy vibes.

• My paternal uncle who, as a teenager, let his dog loose so it'd attack my aunt's dog just for an excuse to talk to her. Her dog damn near killed his dog. Then they started dating. His dog got a steak for being such a devoted wingman. This uncle also REALLY fucking hates lettuce and none of us know why but he will have an absoute meltdown if it touches food on his plate. No one, not even my aunt, has gotten an answer as to what the fuck's up with the lettuce thing.

• My youngest maternal cousin who was an alcoholic surfie who died of diabetes before he reached 25. He was convinced he'd die before he reached 25 but he literally drank and ate himself into an early grave knowing he couldn't be doing that shit with his diabetes. I have one memory of him showing me how to catch minnows with my bare hands, and I still use that trick for catching bait fish.

• My oldest maternal cousin who's a deadbeat dad and I hate him because he doesn't do right by his son or daughter. He's all they've got since their mum is institutionalised for mental issues. My aunt and uncle raise his kids while he lies on the couch smoking hooch all day (I really do NOT like him).

• My maternal second cousin who's nonverbal autistic, but both his deadbeat stoner dad and hippie antivax grandad refuse to get him tested. This boy suffers in school and my heart breaks for him. I had no idea what this kid looked like from 3-5 because he always wore an Iron Man mask all day every day, and he stopped speaking entirely around 6. He's now completely nonverbal and despite being about 13 years old he has the functionality of 6 year old. Last I saw him, he still tries to conversate with me when he sees me though, and he'll sit down and pet Misty and he knows I like talking so he'll pick from a few topics I write down for him and have me talk about them. He understands speech just fine, he just doesn't talk himself. And also really really really hates seatbelts so I knit him a seatbelt cover and now he uses them (turns out he just didn't like the raw edge of the belt). His little sister has some behavioural issues but she's genuinely a sweetheart and seems to be the only person who always knows what he's thinking, so she acts a mediator for him a lot.

• My paternal cousin everyone is convinced is either gay or autistic or a trans woman or all of the above. Him and I get on fine so I'm also on the bandwagon of That Boy Ain't Right cuz there's something in him I recognise, I just don't know what. Don't reckon he's a woman or gay though, and if there's anybody he'd come out to it's me cuz the family is conservative but he knows damn well I won't judge. I'm pretty sure he's just on the spectrum.

• My paternal nephew who's the only bloke what came out normal. He's going to uni in a few years and GOD do I hope he comes back normal. He's spoilt but he's a good kid.

[stealiesjam]

J. Robbins (Kreative Kontrol Interview)

For the complete interview click here

Notes by Paula Beltran. I had the chance to get swept away by the Discord community since my friend Charles, a HarDCore pioneer, did not stop talking about his concert experiences back in the day. We even watched Salad Days together with his wife Claudia who is also a dear friend of mine back in their Arlington home (Charles has it been that long?). I've always been attracted to that level of mysterious coolness. Turns out they are! Here are my notes from the interview. Edited in order to be published here. They highlight life philosophies and fun fact about J. Robbins. Good stuff.

No regular commitment

We don’t hate our customers. We love them.

Gov issue bass

Financial donations with a healthy history that leads someplace cause it’s worth it and there’s love

Everyone works from home in dc

24 years of marriage

Cheapest places to live. Grow your own garden. Community.

Maryland Institute College of Art

Connect with people and be active of finding the cool stuff. Dig.

🐯🖕🏼💘

DISCHORD community are so modest 🥹 suuuuuper cool

J. Robbins is 56 years of age.

Living our moment the young ones

Always do it better. Expand palette.

Excited for things he can’t imagine yet

Influences hi Jules 🍻

90s: post hard core

Passion and finesse 

Hi hat opens and closes and has many sounds

We discover music different ways: shows, zines, etc

Resurrection: putting the band back together 

Listens to the same albums for three months or something

No plan, listen what it wants to be

Music growing up: Beatles, Black Sabbath, other stuff

He was into films and film making. He was obsessed with soundtracks. Soundtrack music manipulates your emotions. Heart rate.

He studied things on his own weird way with headphones and weird stuff

Punk saved his life that nothing had to be official (credentials)

XTC - solid song craft 

WHAAAAAAAT YOU GUYS KNOW ME 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Not a lot of live band interaction during pandemic

No end in sight. Get a studio.

J's band hit record on spot: [please buy something before meeting me, me]

“I just want you to like me” we turn them off / DISCHORD 

Different time

There are things that the more you listen to them the more things you discover about them. (me when I accidentally closed the podcast on my phone and had to rewind it on my computer)

You’re just being nice, you’re my friend

Paula's style bobservation: Perfectionism about art is hell. But hey it happens to j robbins and it’s just a bobservation,

GENIOS 🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

Relief to see friends at the end. We’re not worried about the fate of the world.

People work at different paces

Me: I’ve always dreamed of this. Community-minded-chemistry present excitement. Cool feeling 💘

Collaborative vs dictation

Rhythm

Poet on drums 🪘 

Lois Carrol 

Hi Jerry 🍻

Flowing in right direction. There’s only one way to go and that way is forward.

Facebook posts have good material for songs

Getting older and not taking things for granted

Dictation for things to go like they were: it never happened.

Can we not learn from this? (Totally evil means and ends)

I’m not a fascist (they are) I am a good person with good intentions 

Me: Live and let live. Respect the written word. Learn how to read.

Fuck you kaiser

We'll just deny it happened ALL IS GOOD IN THE HOOD 🌈

Simplicity is real.

Just be a bee 👖

I’m gunna post this

Yay

Sharing experiences is the goal.

Home and marriage: nourishing 

New record on DISCHORD CHECK IT OUT!

J. Robbin picks dead eyed god as recommendation 

He wrote it very easily and he is proud of himself because of that. More about J. Robbins: "J. Robbins has been the singer/guitarist and principal songwriter in several DC-and-Baltimore-area post-punk rock bands since the late 1980s, most notably Jawbox, Burning Airlines, and Channels. He is also owner and operator of the Magpie Cage recording studio in Baltimore MD."

[lesbianalanwake]

like. can you imagine being Barry Wheeler. you and your childhood bestie get into the gig economy together, and you get him a good career, and it's pretty sweet! it's happening! writing for TV, selling books, everything. except he's bad at making friends, and you're basically his only friend, and he's got Issues that you don't really know how to handle even though you try to play it cool. but then! he makes another friend! awesome! and he marries her! even better! your bestie's becoming so well-adjusted. :^) except now you and her cannot stop getting into petty little playground fights about who's the bestest friend because none of you are normal, and it doesn't help anything. and then your bestie goes into a depressive spiral after finishing his big series, and neither you nor his wife know how to help, and it makes your petty fights even worse. and then, finally, when things are looking up, and bestie is making a tentative step towards listening to his wife and taking a vacation (who's jealous? not you)... she disappears? your bestie gets eaten by living darkness, and you can't save him or help him as much as you try? or something? and his wife is back, and she's distraught, and maybe your memories are altered, and maybe your manic-depressive best friend drowned himself in the lake, and you blame yourself, and his wife blames herself. but the strain gives way to a genuine friendship as you try your best to keep her afloat, and you regret all the years you could have spent pleasantly with your best friend and his wife instead of bickering, and now you blame yourself for that too and wonder if it made everything worse. while you try your hardest to protect his memory and manage two drunk rock gods with dementia and navigate the minefield of the entertainment industry. and then something happens, you don't even know what, but your best friend's wife who's now your dear friend too starts pulling away, and doesn't answer calls or emails anymore, and this time you can't keep her afloat when you're on the other side of the country, and then she disappears again and maybe kills herself too. in the same fucking lake.

like god damn. I'd probably get suckered into a cult wellness retreat too.

Barry: Hey, don't do anything crazy, I love you, be smart and safe please.

Alan and Alice:

[xocasper]

Sins of the Flesh

Pairing: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader Summary: Kinktober Day Eight - Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW content, adultery, angst, loaaads of religious guilt Tags: oral sex, fingering, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, corruption kink, age gap, unprotected sex Word Count: 8952 A/N: Bungalow fic is finally here. I’ve had this idea for months; I think since May. I started writing v1 in June, but I ended up scrapping it. In July, I tried to rewrite Sunset and Vine, but it was turning out much darker than intended. That’s when I realized that it would be perfect for this fic. Similar to Sharing is Caring (dumbass title, by the way. someone gets spitroasted and i gave it some g-rated fucking title? ok.), it was written over the course of several sessions without the intention of getting posted. 

For a while, I considered abandoning it or posting it anonymously. I didn’t want to get hate or anything. Now, I don’t really give a fuck. I’m really proud of the writing in this. If you guys want, I can post an alternative version with gender-neutral terms. Also, there are two other Gerard reader-insert fics with this title. It’s inconvenient, but mine has a different plot and you can always call it bungalow fic. Finally, major shoutout to @ghostie-anon​! Thank you so much for beta-reading!

Disclaimer: Gerard’s wife and child are not referred to by name in this fic. They are mentioned, but I used pronouns and vague terms instead. I did not feel comfortable using their names. Also, everything is very consensual. It’s mentioned several times, no worries. :-)

It was fucking dirty. 

Gerard was fucking dirty, filthy and neck-deep in sin. He knew it, god, did he know it, shame eating away at him every single day. He was a forty-year-old man; he had absolutely no place around you, no matter how pure his intentions were. You were half his age, and the classic girl-next-door, the kind that made people stop and turn, mumbling how they wished their kids were like you. In the eyes of the town, you were a national treasure, and Gerard hated it.

He hated the sweet smiles you gave him, offering to watch his kid on Friday nights–date nights, where he was supposed to be thinking about his wife, not that he could really stand her anyway. He hated how much his daughter loved you, always chatting away about you the next day, spontaneously interrupting Saturday morning cartoons to talk about your favorite characters. Christ, he hated how much he loved you, falling for you the same way the rest of the town had. You were so pure, valued by nearly everyone, always being asked how college was going, and what your folks were up to.

That made his skin crawl, too–you still lived with your parents, merely commuting throughout the week. He couldn’t imagine how your father would react, the same man who invited him over for cookouts, discussing politics and sports despite Gerard’s disinterest, if he knew how his neighbor thought of you. God, the cookouts. It was pure torture, nodding along to tuned-out conversations, his gaze transfixed on you and those stupid little sundresses you pranced around in. The minute August ended, Gerard was practically on his knees, thanking whatever otherworldly presence had graced him with cool weather. Tucking away your tank tops didn’t even begin to solve his problems though, as you were irresistible no matter how much skin was showing.

It wasn’t illegal. Hell, it wasn’t even all that immoral–save his marriage and friendship with your parents. He didn’t even know you until you were nineteen, back when your parents had moved to save you some money on gas. Nonetheless, he felt awful about it, the mere image of you shooting shame through his veins. It was worse when he let it linger though, quickly evolving into something beyond unholy, leaving him with unimaginable guilt. Millions of thoughts, centered around corrupting someone so sickeningly pure, every inch of skin, yet to be seen by hungry eyes would flood his head. The taste of victory as you finally broke, your goody-two-shoes reputation tarnished, tossed aside like your tiny tennis skirts and perfectly-ironed tops.

He knew it was a facade–all the string pearls in the world couldn’t hide underlying desire, nor the marks that he’d scatter across your neck. You were an adult, and he found it hard to believe that you were as innocent as you lead everyone to believe. When you were stripped down to nothing, who were you really?

It was a question that circled Gerard’s mind, the picture of your hand past your waistband, face twisted in pleasure, painting itself perfectly. Who was it that you thought of late into the evening? Whose fingers would feel so much better than your own, fucking you open until the only word left was please?

If he tried hard enough, he could see you, on full display and begging, crying, even, to be fucked by him. He wanted to hate the image. He wanted to feel sick to his stomach, tossing the idea aside without another thought, but once he had it, he couldn’t let go. Streaked mascara and unkempt clothes seemed to haunt him, nearly able to hear your choked moans and mewls, leaving him with nothing but untimely erections, unfortunately fixed by his hand rather than yours.

Lust was hard to avoid when you were the talk of the town, your name dropping nonchalantly in his own home, too. You were inescapable and blissfully unaware of the chokehold you had on him. As unbelievable as it was, his fantasies weren’t unrequited, as you were also tormented by unholy ideas, the kind that could single-handedly shred your honor.

It wasn’t any less shameful for you, hardly capable of holding a conversation around him, resorting to speaking with his wife when they needed a babysitter. You hated it–staring her in the eyes, sitting through gossip out of sheer guilt, paranoid that she knew.

Knew the way you thought about Gerard and how badly you wanted him, needing him to tear apart your innocence. You had kept away from parties and one-night stands in hopes of saving yourself for someone real–no frat boys who hardly knew their way around a woman, only looking for somewhere to stick it. You wanted someone with experience, skilled and passionate, putting your needs first. There was nothing like that in college though, residing a door down instead.

Sometimes, you wondered what his daughter would think–she was too young to understand now, as well convinced as the rest of the town that you had handpicked the stars just for her. Down the line, she would certainly figure it out, rose-colored glasses coming off when she’d reminisce, no longer a little girl and capable of remembering how you looked at her father. How you’d torn her family apart. It made you sick, your stomach churning and eyes pricking with hot tears, guilt spinning nightmares out of an improbable future.

No matter how much shame you shared, it hadn’t stopped you tonight. It should’ve built an indestructible wall, blocking out temptation, but you still wound up at his house. You could hardly remember how you had gotten there, vague memories of being spotted outside, and his daughter calling you over to play in the yard with them. He had been raking leaves, the smell of the autumn breeze still clinging to his clothes. She had been jumping in each pile, clutching your hand and pulling you with her, crumbled maple leaves sticking to your sweater, weaving themselves between fine cotton fibers. The sound of his laughter still echoed in your ears, the warm smile he gave you easily thawing the chill in your bones. It was perfect, wholesome and picturesque, though the scene was cut short as his wife’s voice sliced through the air.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Gerard looked up, alarmed and puzzled, glancing from the auburn leaves to his irate spouse. “Raking leaves?”

Fuming, the woman stormed down the porch steps, beckoning over their daughter. Mimicking Gerard, she glanced between you and her mother, infuriating her even more. With a shrill call of her name though, the girl had high-tailed it up the yard, leaving you and Gerard to stand awkwardly by the fence.

“Cut the bullshit,” she lashed, unbothered by your company. “Why did you let her outside?”

Gerard shrugged casually, leaning his rake against a picket. “Because she wanted to play.”

Even if you thought it was fair logic, his wife was seething. “I told you that we had to leave!”

Uncomfortable, you glanced toward their daughter, who wore a similar expression. She kicked the leaves beneath her shoes, scuffing the grass as she tried to drown out the arguing. It was a blast from the past, and you could taste the bitter nostalgia as you pictured your own parents bickering the same way.

Occasionally, she’d tattle on her parents, filling you in on their latest feuds during rounds of Candy Land. You were a babysitter, not a therapist, but you supported her to the best of your ability–at least until she had forgotten a moment later, hardly dwelling on marital issues before growing distracted by Lord Licorice. But Candy Land was tucked away in a toy box now, and Princess Frostine still couldn’t fix her parents’ marriage.

Gerard had a strong bias for his daughter, behaving as if she had hung the moon, so he’d be damned if he didn’t defend her. “She’s allowed to make her own decisions.”

“So if she wanted to jump off a bridge, you’d let her?” his wife snapped, already tramping towards the car.

He couldn’t help but snort, “No, I’d wonder why my six-year-old is suicidal.”

She was at her wit’s end, spitting venom as she buckled their daughter into the car. “Grow the fuck up, Gerard.”

The rest was a blur, slamming car doors and solemn goodbyes, tiny hands waving out the window while you stood in the center of his yard. Even after she had sped off, agitation continued to hang over Gerard. He was still for a moment, letting out a weary sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, sparing you a pitiful glance.

“I can help if you want,” you offered quietly, gesturing towards his abandoned rake and pulling him from his reverie.

He shook his head, “I think it’s time for a break anyway.”

Beckoning you inside, you trailed after him, having been here a million times but things still felt different.

“Never get married,” he huffed, a bittersweet smile on his face.

You looked up at him, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He chewed his lip anxiously, probably eating his words. “They’re off to a birthday party or something, and I guess I wasn’t supposed to let her outside. She got leaves in her hair, or now her clothes are dirty, I don’t know.”

“She didn’t seem too thrilled to be going anyway. I’m sure she was having much more fun being a kid,” you said, trying to soothe his stress to the best of your ability.

It wasn’t entirely fruitless, earning you a small smile as he brewed a pot of coffee. The room was silent, not awkward nor comfortable; instead, it was filled with anticipation. Gerard didn’t speak, so neither did you, studying his movements and focusing on the tune he was humming.

“Do you want some?” he asked, facing you for a brief moment,

You shook your head, unable to say much of anything, and he nodded in response. It was strange that he hadn’t sent you home yet, as you were never around just to chat, but you stayed put without complaint. Every noise seemed to be amplified, heavy footsteps echoing around the room as he walked towards you, sitting quietly at the island. He leaned against it, eyes narrowing as he inspected you. Once more, you were hit with the overwhelming fear that he could sniff out your sins like a bloodhound.

You swallowed hard, Gerard having some sort of height on you, blinking up at him in mild fear. Carefully, he took a sip of his coffee, still looking as if he wanted to speak, but he pushed it aside.

“How are your parents doing?” he asked, hating the question as it echoed back to him.

Your tongue darted out momentarily, wetting your lips before you spoke, and Gerard’s mind instantly retreated to the gutter. He couldn’t hear anything you had said, blinking mindlessly at you as his thoughts headed elsewhere. You could tell, watching the interest drain from his eyes, almost hurt until you noticed how they flicked down to your lips again.

It could’ve been a painful coincidence, but it was enough for you to try. You needed to find answers, to take a step in the right direction. Anxiety crept into your mind as you made your next move, making your stomach churn over a casual response.

“They’re fine,” you said slowly, the words heavy and tentative. “My dad misses the cookouts—I do too.”

He hummed and feigned disinterest, taking another sip of his coffee as he spaced out. “Why?”

Swallowing hard, you thought out your response. With only a few seconds to think, you couldn’t judge the morality of it. Gerard glanced down at you curiously, making your heart pound. 

“Because I liked the way you looked at me.”

The next few seconds passed like molasses, and you yearned for an escape. The answer was methodical—it spelled out every secret while remaining conservative, leaving the outcome up to Gerard. If he hadn’t been eyeing you up all summer, he would look puzzled, brushing it off with an awkward laugh. And even if it were true, he could have the same reaction, burying the exchange forever.

You were at an advantage, and he was hit with a mix of embarrassment and pride. He had been caught—but you liked it. Neither of you were in a good position, yet he still responded with unjust confidence.

“Yeah?” he asked, setting his mug down. “How so?”

Gerard leaned over the counter, pressing his palms to the marble as he gave a grin of faux arrogance. He had an air of intimidation, hovering a scant foot away from you, leaving you nowhere else to look. You were embarrassed this time, giving him a quick once-over.

“You just,” you started, the words dying as you burned with insecurity. “You looked at me like I was worth it.”

Again, your answer was up to interpretation, but you both knew the truth. Last summer had built tension, and even as the weather began to cool, the heat never faded. His smile had slipped away, turning tight as he clung to his resolve. Lost for words, his gaze drifted back to your lips, searching for a signal.

Softly, you prompted him to speak. “Am I worth it, Gerard?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, sweet and simple, but he remained frozen in place.

Truly transfixed, Gerard missed the look you had given him, hopeful and desperate. He hardly noticed the way you leaned up, gently pressing your palm to his cheek, smoothing over soft skin and stubble. In fact, he didn’t snap back to reality until twelve inches had turned to two, his nose brushing yours as you watched and waited for some sort of sign—one to leave, or an even bigger one to stay.

Gerard picked the latter, breath catching and lips parting as you stared at him, throwing caution to the wind as he closed the gap. To his surprise, he wasn’t met with outrage and obscenities, hallucinating slamming doors and divorce papers as your lips moved against his. He could taste the sin, shame, and regret, drowning in a cruel combination of pride and remorse. You were the forbidden fruit, and he had never tasted anything sweeter. Your kisses were laced with naivety, seemingly immune to the weight of an affair. He should’ve pulled away, sent you home, and told you to chase boys your own age, but his self-control was long gone by then.

Eventually, you did the job for him, needing a moment to breathe, not to mention think. You were intelligent, raised with strong morals, and yet they had all slipped out of reach. Gerard resorted to watching you, eyes glazed over as he dealt with his own inner turmoil, unsure of the next step.

Apologies spilled out before he could reevaluate, blanching as his breath stalled. “I’m sorry,” he began, eyes widened in sudden horror. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t say that,” you blurted out, still cupping his cheek. “Don’t do that to me.”

You could already hear his answer, how he would pull away and say it meant nothing, and you couldn’t afford that. The least you could do was fight for his honesty, knowing what he really wanted and winding up ashamed as you pleaded with him. His kitchen was fucking Eden, and you played the serpent, vying for his infidelity.

“What?” he mumbled, almost vulnerable.

Gerard wanted confession. He wanted to hear how bad you wanted him, already proud and flattered by your brazen interruption. You sighed, torn between guilt and temptation, a central theme between the two of you.

“Don’t make me leave,” you whispered, stroking his cheek tenderly.

He leaned into your touch, relishing in the foreign domesticity despite its terms. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you said, your voice weak and hushed, and he replied with a soft smile.

“Good,” he told you, slipping away and rounding the counter. “I didn’t want you to anyway.”

You slid off the stool, staring at him expectantly as he slowly made his way over. Nervous, he outstretched his arm, almost scared as he drew closer.

“Can I…” he mumbled, reluctantly stepping towards you.

It was quiet, a question he shouldn’t have asked, and one you shouldn’t have answered; so you didn’t. Nodding your head was sufficient, and he closed the distance in calculated strides, his hands landing on your hips almost magnetically. His hold was firm with a contrasting fragility, fingertips teasing the hem of your sweater while he kissed you. This one was different, fervorous and messy, and his grip held you upright. His hands lingered on bare skin, soft and untouched by perverted college boys–but rather perverted neighbors, which he supposed wasn’t any better.

Gerard kissed the way you expected him to, smooth and relaxed without substituting passion, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip in fluent strokes, and parting them with remarkable ease. You had kissed people before, but never like this–not with clear intent to escalate, searching for more than a messy makeout session. It didn’t seem to bother him, having held the reins since the start.

He was hooked on it all, the taste of adultery that burnt his tongue, only to be soothed by purity and satisfaction. Passion was scarce in his marriage, merely coexisting with his wife at this point, certain that he hadn’t felt like this since his daughter was born. It was addicting–you were addicting, shiny and new, and so fucking compliant, easily the most foreign trait to him. You went along with every motion, mimicking the way his tongue worked against yours, dark roast never tasting so sweet.

There was still time to stop, both of you well aware of the fact as he pulled away. For a moment, he was submerged in nostalgia, the way your hands hooked around his neck painfully reminiscent of her–of passion and love that this house was built on, the air now tainted with an unforgivable act. Once again, Gerard could’ve backed out, but the dazed look in your eyes was like a teaser, promising so much more.

Instead, he led you to the guest bedroom, soft laughter and stumbling hardly loud enough to silence the alarms in his head, almost purifying something so disgustingly sinful. He didn’t have the guts to fuck you in his bed. He tried to convince himself that it was unfair to you, watching as you kicked off your sneakers and laid back on the mattress, not appearing haunted by this situation. You didn’t deserve to be surrounded by her, to have to breathe the lingering perfume as you were stripped of your innocence.

While he really did believe that, he brought you here for a far more selfish reason–he couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping next to her tonight, knowing what he had done in their bed. Besides, he wouldn’t have time to wash the sheets, and cracking the windows would only do so much, leaving the unmistakable smell of sex to hang heavy in the room. He could take the heat from her, but that sprung from years of experience–you had only caught a glimpse of her wrath, and he hoped it would stay that way.

Kicking off his shoes, he slid next to you, wrinkling his nose at the duvet. Gerard was no expert when it came to interior design, but wasn’t paisley a little tacky? Noticing his distaste, you grew slightly insecure, almost scared to ask the issue. “What’s wrong?”

It came out mousier than you would’ve liked, crossing your arms over yourself despite being fully clothed. Had he finally given in to guilt?

“Nothing, really,” he said earnestly, almost embarrassed that he had worried you over something so trivial. “This duvet is just really awful.”

He got a genuine smile in response, content with your reaction as he pulled your hands away, kissing you once more. The meaning was ever-changing, once impulsive, twice impassioned, and now the calm before the storm. It was almost juvenile, Gerard propped up on his arm, and the awkward shuffle as you tried to get comfortable. It was a direct parallel to your first partner, one from high school, giggling and kissing with the door shut, hoping your parents wouldn’t barge in. Except for this time, you were grown up. And you no longer feared your parents, but his wife. He was cheating. But he wanted you.

It should’ve made you sick, had you crying, something, but all you felt was pride, hardly registering his hands slipping higher up your sweater as your mind cleared. Gradually, his fingers trailed up your chest, smooth skin cut off by the fabric of your bra.

Quietly, he spoke for the third time since kissing you. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

Over clothes, sure, but you generally stayed pretty guarded. In the end, you simply nodded–if anything, it might stop him from quitting, knowing that this wasn’t entirely new.

Soon, his touch trailed lower, dragging to the waistband of your jeans, and lower still. In fact, he didn’t stop until the pads of his fingers were pressed between your legs, denim the only thing hiding the arousal pooling in your panties.

“What about here?”

This time, you shook your head.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious as you had been pretty eager so far.

The truth seemed to be far less embarrassing to him than it was for you, tumbling out before you could stop it.

“Because I was waiting for you.”

Fuck.

This was wrong, and he knew it like the back of his hand, but he could’ve gotten off on your admission alone. He wondered how many advances you had rejected, only thinking of him, and how he was the only one worthy of fucking you. Again, he wondered if you spent lonely nights thinking of him, thinking of this.

“Do you think about this?” he asked out loud, hardly registering his own question.

Slow kisses down your neck wrecked your focus, but they also numbed your anxiety. You gave a brief nod though, tilting your head back for him.

“I do,” he continued, every word mumbled against your neck and etched into your skin. “I think about making you cry and beg for me. How’s that sound?”

He was speaking in a foreign tongue, surprising himself just the same, though you found yourself aching for more. Gently, he left a love bite, hardly noticeable below your ear, but enough to prompt a response. Nothing more than a good, but Gerard was certain that you’d be vocal sooner or later. It wasn’t normally like this for him–she had always wanted it quick and dirty, never letting him take his time. He wanted to savor you, trace every inch of unseen skin, taste and feel the metamorphosis as you grew into a sinner. Ideally, he’d take it slow, but if you pleaded enough, he’d certainly give in.

Shifting, he pulled you flush against the pillows, wiggling himself around until he was hovering above you. You could see him better from here, studying his features–his soft hazel eyes pooled with guilt, juxtaposed against his blow pupils, forming a contradictory combination. He was beautiful, blessed with long lashes and an upturned nose, pairing perfectly with faint freckles that painted him in irresistibility. Gazing at him didn’t last long though, soon cut off by a brief kiss before he sunk lower.

Gerard’s hands trailed up your sides, back under your sweater as he traced illegible shapes into your skin. Slowly, he tugged it further up, hardly focusing on his hands as he nipped at your collarbones, reluctantly pulling away to hike the thick fabric up over your head. You were nothing short of perfection, untouched skin all smooth and flawless, revealed only for him. You didn’t complain or cover up, whining about silly insecurities that Gerard couldn’t spot, unlike his wife. At first, he was sympathetic, showering her with affection, but it was fruitless, only ending in arguments and narcissism. Eventually, he learned that fixing things was useless, finding other solutions to his problems, such as you.

You were so much different, and he knew it for a fact as he pressed his lips to your sternum, gaining a satisfied hum rather than restless squirming. His lips traced the edge of your bra, and his chin brushed against the nylon, but he preferred to be flush against you. Locking eyes with you, he snaked his hands around your back, fingers brushing against the clasp and sliding the straps down your shoulders. Lust seemed to overpower his guilt, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulled off your bra, tossing it towards the edge of the bed.

Gerard had been loyal for several years, and seeing something new, someone that wanted him like you, gave him a rush, his adrenaline high from delirium and paranoia. Mesmerized, he watched the rise and fall of your chest before kicking back into gear.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, cupping your breasts with strong hands. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The room was chilly, but Gerard was warm, heating you up as he caressed your skin, rolling your hardened nipples beneath his thumbs. His focus didn’t linger there for long though, leaving kisses and bites but not much more, only there to make a mark. Trailing further down your chest, he reached your hips, slithering down the mattress as he ran his hands along your curves. Watching you once more, he reached for the button of your jeans, anxiety crossing your expression for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

The question made you pause, nodding mindlessly anyway, arching into his touch.

“What do you want to do to me?” you asked curiously, though it came across as more sexual than you intended.

A sly grin crossed his face, slowly pulling down the denim, gazing longingly at the bare skin, now only covered by thin panties.

“I want to ruin you.”

There was a shaky inhale on your end, eyes fluttering shut as you processed his sentence, subconsciously sliding closer to him. He was quick to stop you though, gripping your thighs firmly as he held you down. It was unfamiliar, the predatory glint in his eyes, and the sensation of wet kisses scattered between your legs. The gentle scrape of his teeth broke your silence, a soft, breathy moan as he nipped your skin. The feeling came again, hickeys soothed by his tongue, reaching higher until he hit cotton.

Part of you was embarrassed, always imagining this scene in something nicer–silk or lace that you’d spent too much money on, not something so bland. It was an outlandish idea, but you still burned up as his nose brushed against it, greedily mouthing at you despite your subtle shame. He was taking his time as intended, making you shiver with every clothed kiss, growing uncomfortably wet with his procrastination. Watching as you opened your mouth to whine, his tongue lolled out, and his intense stare never wavered as he gave a bold lick, the pressure intoxicating. Another moan slipped out, louder this time, one that Gerard wanted on loop for the rest of his life. Embarrassed, you turned away from him, staring at the wall to save face.

“Look at me,” he requested, his voice soft and stern.

Reluctantly, you turned back, watching as his fingers slipped under your waistband, slowly dragging your panties past your thighs. His gaze felt like mid-July, his eyes painting a nostalgic fantasy—the same one you had pointed out earlier. He still looked at you like you were worth something, worth the risk, but you could tell by the hesitance flashing in his eyes that it wasn’t without a side of remorse.

For a moment, he considered leaving, chickening out and apologizing, returning to a simple life with his wife and kid. Gerard was never one for making good decisions though, churning his guilt into arousal, praying that he could distract himself with the taste of purity.

It worked, to a point, libido winning the twisted battle, Gerard growing hot as he watched you squirm with every foreign touch. The room was quiet again, ear-piercing silence only disrupted by your sudden gasp, surprised by the warmth of Gerard’s tongue. He moved meticulously, lips ghosting over your skin while his tongue skated across the top of your thigh. Gerard wanted you to crack–he wanted you to want him, to impatiently force yourself against him when he took too long. But you remained quiet as you laid beneath him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as the tip of his tongue dragged closer, skimming across your folds in faint strokes.

God, you wanted it. It was obvious, Gerard biting back an arrogant grin while he licked teasingly, urged to continue as you whined at his negligence. Hopeless, you shifted closer, only to be met with a disapproving hum.

“Honey, if you want something,” he started, no longer fighting his smile. “All you have to do is ask.”

Humiliated, you took a breath, hardly in the right frame of mind to analyze the situation. You were in his house with his face between your legs, fighting to stay quiet while he waited for a pretty plea to spill from your lips. It was so fucking contradictory, and you were growing impatient, Gerard watching your chest fall as you waved your white flag.

“Please,” you mumbled, the shame nearly boiling you alive.

Unsatisfied, he didn’t give more than another kitten lick, studying your twisted features as you swallowed your pride. You had never been more embarrassed in your life, but with a single glance at him, you concluded that it was worth it.

“Gerard, please, fucking–” you said, louder this time. “Just… touch me? Please?”

Your innocence made him dizzy, every word sounding unsure as you uttered them, urging him to fill in the blanks. “I can touch you,” he assured, pausing to suck softly on his fingers, delicately spreading you open. “I wanna taste you. I wanna eat your sweet pussy–do you want that?”

Set on fire, you nodded hastily, choking out a moan as his tongue ran flat, a single wide stroke making your hips jump. It was some sort of reward for answering–you had always been good in school, so you knew how this worked.

“Yes, please, I want your mouth so fucking bad.”

Gerard groaned against you, the words that sounded so unnatural to you sparking a rush of arousal for him. Restraining himself was difficult enough on its own, fighting the urge to spring into action, eating you out until you were mindless and used, pretty tears staining your cheeks with the loss of innocence. That wasn’t in the cards for today though, Gerard cursing himself as he realized that meant more. More secrets, more lies, more guilty pleasure and desecration. Ignorantly, he stepped over the rabbit hole and focused on you again.

Wet lips and heavy tongue were the only sensations you could register, having gone blind to emotion with Gerard’s mouth on you. Even if his head was in the clouds, you had never been more grounded, moaning softly as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cunt, his lips shining with an erotic mix of slick and spit. Wrapping your thighs tighter around him, you tried to push closer, desperation lacing both the jerk of your hips and your pathetic cries.

Tauntingly, he slowed again, pulling back until he was merely flicking his tongue against you. It was torturous–faint, slow, and not nearly enough. Whining as he continued to tease, you broke yet again, and begging became less of a chore.

“Please, I’ll stay still,” you swore, Gerard quickly giving in to the vulnerability in your voice.

Good behavior deserved a reward, his pace picking up as you continued to babble pleas, your fingers scrunching the awful duvet. Again, he felt appreciated, flooded with a foreign warmth; she never appreciated his effort and eagerness to please. He could hardly remember a time that she had pleaded with him the way you had, or resisted the urge to grind against his tongue until the taste of your arousal lingered in his mouth for days.

“Feels good?” he asked rhetorically, shaking his head slightly as you hummed, the same smile still ghosting his cheeks.

The sounds you made drowned out all of his insecurities, putting an end to his overthinking as you cursed and moaned, your back arching off the mattress as he sucked on your clit. It was overwhelming, Gerard’s tongue pressing against you as he pulled you closer, swirling and sucking as he figured out what made you tick.

“More,” you breathed, hands digging into the duvet. “Fuck, please, more.”

Latching the magic word onto every sentence left him with an edge of remorse, partly guilty from the way that you clung to being innocent and well-mannered, but mostly because of the effect it had on him. For you, it was subconscious, unaware of the sweet naivety that filled your tone, as words strictly spoken in PG settings were now caught between sinful cries. In fact, Gerard wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you swear until he was between your legs, lapping at your untouched cunt like a lifeline. Everything about you was irresistible, golden and pure, and so fucking different from his wife. Briefly, he wondered if he really wanted you, or if he simply didn’t want her.

Unaware of his troubles, you continued to plead with him, on the verge of finishing the job yourself at his indolence. After a moment though, he snapped back, planting a kiss on your clit before pulling away, another winning smile plastered across his face. With slick lips, he pressed a handful of kisses to your thighs, seemingly stopping short. Quietly, you whined in objection, and Gerard was quick to clear the air.

“Oh no, we’re not done yet.”

That should’ve been a surefire sign that you were positively fucked, but you only stared curiously at him as he settled comfortably between your legs again. Then, you watched as his fingers landed flat against his tongue, lips closing and tongue swirling in the same patterns he had etched into your skin. The pads of his fingers gravitated towards your thighs, skating higher until he was met with your aching cunt, embarrassingly wet and begging for contact.

You watched with anticipation as his middle finger dragged across your folds, nothing more than feather-light touches before it slipped inside of you. Your small gasp was a knee-jerk reaction, lips parted and brows furrowed as you watched Gerard, easing his finger deeper. His fingers were larger than yours, thicker and longer, already filling you in unfamiliar ways. It was different, but not bad to be touched by someone else, and you gradually settled into the pillows again.

“How’s that?” Gerard asked, slowly pushing in and out, watching you carefully for discomfort.

You nodded, “Good.”

After receiving your approval, it didn’t take long for him to step further, building a rhythm that was quicker and deeper, his finger curling just right. Gerard’s touch felt so much better than yours, the image as sweet as the action itself, leaving you moaning as he tentatively added another one.

“God, Gerard, please,” you murmured, reaching for his hand as he buried his fingers inside of you, somehow longing for more.

You wanted him. You wanted the muscles in your abdomen wound so tight to snap, every bone in your body turning to jelly as he fucked you, raw and real. Patience wasn’t your strong suit, leaving you to rock against his fingers as he tried his best to stretch you out.

“Do you touch yourself like this?” Gerard asked, out of the blue.

As your mouth opened, aiming to answer, he pressed his tongue against your clit, sucking softly again. It caught you off guard, hardly giving an affirming hum before you were shifting towards him.

“Mhm… Oh my god,” you breathed, finally grasping his free hand as he continued to work you open.

You let out a small whine as he pulled away to speak, feeling yourself grow closer every second. “Who do you think of?” he asked in a stern tone, though there was an unmistakable, arrogant edge to it. “Whose fingers are really fucking you?”

Kissing your dignity goodbye, you cried out a desperate, “Yours.”

“Whose fucking pussy is this?”

It was obscene, the way he sucked on your clit with his fingers buried inside you, and the pauses where he’d stare up at you with shining lips, licking away your wetness before asking his formerly humiliating questions. Questions he knew the answers to, wanting nothing more than power and reassurance, straining against his jeans with each predicted answer. You weren’t even embarrassed anymore, so fucking desperate for him that you had grown eager to answer his questions, begging to come undone on his tongue and surrender yourself to him.

“It’s yours, Gerard,” you said, as confident as your wavering voice could manage.

The words did sound confident, natural, even. It was as if you were meant to be submitting yourself, moaning and begging as he stretched your virgin cunt. You could only imagine how it would feel when he fucked you, aching for the delicious pain that would wash over you as his hips snapped against yours. For now, you had to be grateful for his hands, and the way his fingers sank inside of you with a swift rhythm.

“Good girl.”

It was mumbled and hardly heard, but no matter how loud you had grown, his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. The nickname reached your ears, bold and ringing as you teetered on the edge, and Gerard was smugly observant of it. His lips brushed against you while his breath fanned across your skin, locking eyes with you as his tongue dragged flat across your slit, trailing higher until his lips wrapped once more around your swollen clit, sucking lightly with the steady curl of his fingers.

Finally, your body gave in, tense muscles going lax as the anticipation and pressure faded away. Softly, you panted, rocking absentmindedly against Gerard, trying to ride it out for as long as you could. Sure, you’d had an orgasm before, but never like this. Not with Gerard’s tongue lapping and swirling long after you had come, or the hint of pride in his eyes as he listened to your whines. Everything was different with Gerard, and all the sensations you were sure you’d experienced before became pure ecstasy, blurring your vision as you reached fruitlessly for him.

Even as you whined from the oversensitivity, his actions never stopped, all of your cries cut with moans, egging him on. He was careful, toeing the line between pain and pleasure as he persisted. No matter how bad he wanted to wreck you, this was new territory, taking on a role of responsibility as he reigned himself in. Despite how he slowed, it all felt the same to you, spilling moans every time you tried to speak.

Your head was empty as you gave a small cry. “Please fuck me.”

It was desperate, broken, igniting a similar need in Gerard as he pulled away. You weren’t sure why you were begging for more, but your only voice of reason was beaten down by lust, seeing nothing but the passion in his eyes as he stared back at you. He had barely moved, his lips hardly having left your skin as twisted fantasies whirled in his head.

“You really want it?”

You nodded impatiently, “Fuck, yes.”

Gerard grinned, planting kisses on the top of your thighs, clearly in no rush to relieve the discomfort in his jeans. “Then tell me you want it,” he commanded, momentarily sinking his teeth into your flesh. “Tell me you want my cock.”

God, he was fucking sadistic, ordering you around as he marked up your thighs, leaving undeniable evidence that he had been there, pulling every plea and moan from your kiss-bitten lips. Still, you compiled, tripping over your words as he sucked on your skin.

“Please,” you choked out, squirming under him. “I want your cock so fucking bad.”

The words were wrong on your tongue, waiting to have your mouth washed out with soap, but he did nothing more than moan as he finally climbed up the bed again.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

With his hand against your cheek, he admired your vulnerability, thinking back to all those pretty sundresses and sweet smiles, now substituted with impurity. He let your hands wander as he kissed you, under his shirt and across his waistband, following his lead from earlier. You didn’t get far before Gerard was pulling away, shifting away to undress. As each layer hit the ground, your gut twisted more, growing hot at the sight of him. At first, he kept his boxers on, tentatively taking your hand in his.

“We can stop any time,” he promised, softening at your nervous expression. “Think of a traffic light–call out red, and we’ll be done, okay?”

It was a drastic difference from his previous attitude but appreciated nonetheless. “Okay.”

Relieved, he asked quietly, “Color?”

“Green.”

He shot you a small smile before leaning back in, catching your lips in a heated kiss while he guided your hand past his hips. You felt painfully uneducated, but Gerard had no problem helping, his hand over yours as you cupped his tented boxers. He wanted you, or at least his dick did, and you were filled with pride as his erection pressed against your palm.

To his surprise, you pulled off his boxers without a pep talk, anxiety creating a wicked combo with the arousal in your stomach. Again, he left your lips, glancing down at your hand, resting mere inches from his cock. He was already leaking precum and uncomfortably hard, and your unbridled lust did him no favors.

It wasn’t until he had begun to reach blindly for the nightstand did he realize that it would not have protection, unlike his bedroom down the hall. Defeated, he sighed, preparing to awkwardly leave you in the guest room while you waited for a condom, but you didn’t let him get that far.

“Just do it already,” you frowned, watching as he started to explain. “Fuck me raw, Gerard.”

You were a fucking rarity, weren’t you? Unable to stop the low moan that slipped out, Gerard hovered above you once more, holding his cock in his hand as he lined himself up.

“You’re so fucking filthy, baby, you know that? Such a good girl with such a dirty mouth.”

Even if you had been soaked minutes before, wet with slick and saliva, fitting himself inside proved to be a struggle. You were partly convinced that you’d tear in two, nails digging into his back as he gradually eased in, moaning as you clenched around him. God, you were so fucking tight, brand new and all for him, your pretty cunt squeezing his cock so well, already greedily taking the first few inches.

It started out uncomfortable, and the feeling of being so full felt unnatural, trying your best to adjust to his size. He was quieter than you had been, breathing crude curses as he rocked against you, hiding his impatience as he waited for permission to move. He was completely still, but you clung to him with bated breath, exhaling with another, “Please.”

As the word rolled off your tongue, he pushed in fully, groaning as a moan rippled through you. Your face had contorted, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn together, fighting the pain and discomfort as pleasure began to overpower it. Gerard stayed like that for a minute, holding you flush against him before mumbling, “Color?”

“Green.”

You were gradually getting used to the foreign fullness, writhing slightly as you waited for him to move. It was almost more uncomfortable, staying stuffed and still while he peered down at you. With your confirmation though, he gave a quick thrust, gaining motivation as you gave a choked cry. That’s when he began to focus, on anything and everything, his hips rolling as you let out broken sobs.

Gerard could hear every sound you made, hypervigilant as you mewled, listening to the edge of pain that came with each one, and how they started to blur into bliss. He could see your features close up, twisted in pleasure as he thrust into you, sending him into a haze. And fuck, he could feel you–the way you clenched around him, cunt so sweet and tight, wet warmth squeezing his cock with every snap of his hips. Each one came with a loud moan, thick and carnal as they spilled out, his control finally starting to fade. He was a man of his word, and he was going to ruin you.

His thrusts became ruthless, Gerard rocking his hips without restraint, growing closer as you blasphemed. How unholy of you to murmur God’s name in such a setting–had you gone blind to your own sin?

It didn’t make a difference to Gerard, his mind whirling as he fell down a similar spiral. He was taking it from you, innocence and honor, stigmatizing you with each thrust. This was wrong, you were wrong, spreading your legs for a married man and eagerly moaning his name. Gerard was no better, never having fucked his wife with such passion, driven by the image of you, broken, used, and begging for him. Begging for more, for him to stop, for redemption. Begging for an excuse for your actions, an escape–karma would be nasty to the two of you, and he knew it with every stroke. None of that mattered though, not when you were babbling intelligibly, so drunk on his cock that you could barely form words.

“Fuck,” you choked, voice already wrecked. “I’m gonna come, Gerard, please.”

He didn’t change pace, still going at a steady rhythm, albeit rougher. You were so easy to read, from the way your breathing grew erratic, to how you held him tighter, your nails creating dark crescents on his back. The pain was complementary for him, moaning obscenities as your hands raked up his skin. He was in major trouble if his wife saw, but did he really care anymore?

The question was stowed away for later as his hand slid down your stomach, pressing on your abdomen, where you could feel an unbearable tension threatening to crack. Again, his hand shifted, thumb toying with your clit, watching for a tell-tale sign that you were coming.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he murmured, catching your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Make a mess for me.”

The world seemed to stall when you felt yourself shatter, descending into euphoria as your body went limp. You could barely register the whines that bubbled up in your throat, filling the room with a lewd chorus. Even after you had come, Gerard hadn’t slowed down, staying true to his intentions as thrust with the same fervor.

The oversensitivity hadn’t hit at first, though you struggled to take a full breath as you panted, each attempt ruined by another moan. He knew he should stop–this was out of your expertise, and it was selfish of him to push your limits for his own fantasies. Still, he couldn’t help but continue pounding into you, finally finding the strength to talk.

“Color?” he breathed as his thrusts grew sloppier.

He must’ve fucked you dumb, as you answered on impulse. “Green.”

The moan that slipped past his lips was nothing short of wanton, Gerard unable to catch himself as it tumbled out. You were so fucking hot, still wanting more despite your obvious sensitivity. Who would’ve known that his sweet little neighbor could be such a whore, degrading herself to nothing more than a hole for Gerard’s sick desires?

You wondered the same thing, peering up at him blearily as you looked for answers. It must’ve been something psychological, leaving your mind to fight your body, spent and used, as you thrived on imaginary praise. It hurt, but you were being such a good girl, so sweet and compliant for giving him your body. Tears stung your eyes, streaming down your cheeks one by one, tainted with mascara as you sobbed in his bedsheets. Yet you still needed it, sacrificing yourself for the knowledge that he wanted you.

You swelled with sick pride when his eyes fluttered open, moaning at how wrecked you looked. Stained skin and swollen lips had become a reality, his once distant dreams playing out in real time, and it felt like fucking heaven. He could tell as the tears poured and you bit your lip raw that it was overwhelming, shamefully getting off on your submission. It was the feeling of being buried inside you, thrusting into your tight cunt as you gave him something irreplaceable that made him lose it, feeling his cock twitch as he pulled out.

Gerard reeled at the sight of you, ruined and disheveled as he spilled onto your stomach. This was real, all the guilt and realities catching up as he studied your figure, splayed out and spent. There would be proof of it too–only temporarily, but the hoarseness of your voice and the predictable wobble when you'd walk would be a shameful reminder for days to come. The room seemed to go cold as you laid against the pillows, finally catching your breath while he stared down at you, his lips suddenly meeting yours. Once more, you were both filled with remorse, Gerard’s wedding band scalding your skin with bitter truths as he cupped your cheek.

Underneath a copious amount of guilt, there was still a burning desire–a need for more, for each other, one that he had chosen to ignore. Following in his footsteps, you pushed it down as well, watching as he silently laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest. It wasn’t out of love–it was comfort, the kind that he needed too. You couldn’t change the past, but you could lay in his arms and contemplate the future, beginning to spot the imperfections of your affair. Oh, how quickly the liaison had lost its color, blind to reality only minutes before. Part of you wished he would talk, kick you out or beg you to stay. Only a few moments later, he granted it, his voice quiet as he spoke.

“I’ll be right back,” was all he said, carefully getting up as if the world would shatter otherwise.

The silence was deafening without him, and you had nothing to do other than lay uncomfortably in his guest room, glancing around at the decor that lined the wall. Decor that they had picked out, back when they were happy and faithful, not needing an affair to feel wanted. It takes two to tango, but you were clearly out of place, still fighting nausea when Gerard came back with a washcloth.

Without a sound, he cleaned you up, first your stomach, and then your legs, pressing an occasional kiss to your skin. It was tender, laced with sweet sympathy, each one acting as an odd sort of apology for dragging you into this. You wanted to object, telling him that it was your fault too, but you kept your mouth shut, hands folded and eyes on the ceiling as he finished cleaning up.

You had done a better job after getting home that evening, scrubbing the sins from your skin in the hot shower, but it was impossible to shake the past. Gerard hadn’t spoken much before you left, giving you a final somber kiss in the doorway as he wished that the world would disappear for a moment longer.

But the world still stood tall, and the night had fallen. And his wife had returned home, and their daughter was undoubtedly rambling about her afternoon. And now you were laying in bed, kept awake by your mistakes, wondering if Gerard ever really wanted you. And in the next house over, he stared at the shadows in his bedroom, sharing your struggles.

This wasn’t feasible, but you made him happy. Did he even deserve to be happy anymore? Did he deserve you? The questions were suffocating, impossible and infuriating as he screwed his eyes shut in frustration. Even after hours of thinking, he still couldn’t find the answers, only drawing a single bittersweet conclusion, one that sent another wave of guilt crashing down on him.

At the end of the day, when the remorse caught up and gave him vertigo, you were the only thing that seemed worth it. Time stilled for a moment, leaving him to lay out his desires, weighing them with harsh realities. His decision wasn’t clear at first–not for a while either, vehemently denying the truth until the clock ticked towards the witching hour. By then, he had turned to watch the stars, standing in his window as his eyes traced the skyline, searching for answers on rooftops and antennas. Only as the moon poured through his window and painted him in epiphany, did he accept his fate.

So he pulled himself from the pane and tucked himself into bed with a woman he didn’t love. And he pressed an apologetic kiss to her forehead, sorry for both his betrayal and the way things could have been. And he rolled over, putting up the act of a faithful husband once more, letting go of the one who really wanted him. And as his eyes fluttered shut, there was only one thing he knew for certain.

Gerard could never have you.

kinktober taglist: @clichedlovers  @halloweenbitch2764  @lubbockshusband @cigarettesandalcohols  @couldbegayer1234  @doc-martens-enthusiast @yachiiko @becausethedrugsneverwork @house-of-wh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @chronicallythicc @zggystrdst @partypoisonzz​ @blueouid

[captain-athos]

sorry people are talking about fleetwood mac drama again and I can feel the infodump energy so here are some great bits of information esp. w regards to Rumours (1977)

- The album isn’t as pessimistic as everyone says it is!! Dreams and Don’t Stop are pretty positive! Songbird isn’t melancholy so much as it is just kind of introspective! Gold Dust Woman has a determination to it that lifts it out of being just morose!

- Having said that though, You Make Lovin’ Fun is about Christine’s new boyfriend after she dumped John and he was the FLEETWOOD MAC LIGHTING GUY imagine having to play bass on a song about how cool your ex’s new dude is lmfao

- Are they gonna YES I’M GONNA MAKE THIS ABOUT THE EAGLES bc around this time was when Stevie Nicks started hanging out with Don Henley and his first year lit major ass was like “you shouldn’t put the emphasis on the second syllable of “washes” in the line “when the rain washes you clean you’ll know” and Stevie told him to fuck off and anyway Rumours won Album of the Year in 1977 so Hotel California whomst?

- The other hysterical thing is the fact that not long after Rumours Stevie and Don Henley dated and like... 70s Don Henley looked almost EXACTLY like Lindsay so like... imagine breaking up w ur gf and she starts dating ur doppelganger 

- The song Oh Daddy isn’t about Christine’s dad or partner or like anyone related to her in that way it’s about Mick Fleetwood bc the band calls him Big Daddy it’s like POV ur Mick Fleetwood’s wife

- Also like after this album but BEFORE the Don Henley era Stevie and MICK had an affair??? Like during the album tour??? and then Stevie was like oh  Mick omg ur married and Mick was like so true bestie and then left his wife and married Stevie’s best friend Sara like the messy bitch energy in this band is just neverending

- This isn’t relevant to rumours but their next album (Tusk) involved Lindsay doing all this weird experimental shit in the studio while everyone was just balls deep in drugs and like can you imagine being Dennis Wilson (whom Christine was dating at the time) showing up to see all that and just being like not this fucking shit again after the Smiley Smile fiasco w his brother Brian like god what a mess

[captainmalewriter]

An Odd Trend Pt. 3

Check out part two to this series here!

Dennis was working from the comfort of his home. He held his hand against his head as he typed away on his laptop.

Dennis held great pride in his occupation as a full time radio host. But the changing times brought with it technological advances, which made jobs like radio hosts more and more obsolete. Dennis worked twice hard to keep up with the demands of the rapidly changing times. While he was able to stay afloat despite being only a small channel, it was not without several sacrifices. Soon enough he had found that working long hours on end would take its toll on his middle aged body in the form of back aches and eye pain. The pay left much to be desired too, as he and his wife Charlotte were always drifting the line between poverty and comfortable living.

But despite all these poor conditions, Dennis kept at it. Not just for himself and his wife, but for their twin kids too. Unfortunately for Dennis, however, the twins were in the middle of their teen years. As any parent knows, parenting teens is a headache in and of itself.

The clock struck 5 in the evening. Dennis closed out all his tabs and shut down his laptop. It was time to go live for the Wednesday report. Dennis got up from the couch and proceeded to walk towards the makeshift recording booth down in the basement. Just before he entered the basement, he noticed something red moving in the hallway from the corner of his eye.

"Cheyenne? Is that you?" Dennis called out.

There was a moment of silence before his teenage daughter stepped out from behind the hallway. She was dressed in all black, with several chains and locks scattered all throughout her clothes. Her clothes left little to the imagination of her figure too, much to Dennis' dismay.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dennis said with a furrowed brow.

"Out with friends," Cheyenne sighed and rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"Dressed like that? You're out of your goddamn mind if you think you're going out like that, little Missie! Go cover up!"

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed, huh?"

"Everything! A 16 year old girl should not be dressed like a punk!"

"Dad, this is who I am! Why can't you just accept it!? I'm going out with my friends and you can't stop me!" Cheyenne shouted.

Just as Dennis opened his mouth to respond, the power in the house went out. Dennis and Cheyenne looked at each other in the darkened hallway. Footsteps then came running down the staircase next to them.

"Damien, what the fuck did you do now!?" Dennis shouted at the teen, who threw his hands up.

"Dad, I can explain, I've been doing some hacking on social media sites to see what dirt I could find. I just needed some extra power to get through some of the cybersecurity. Look, it's actually pretty cool!"

Damien took out his phone and clicked several things. He then extended his arm out to show Dennis. Dennis feigned interest at first, only to yank the phone out of his son's hand and smack him on the head.

"I'm really not in the mood for any bullshit from either of you. Cheyenne, I want all that shit off of you by the time I'm done with the show. Damien, go reset the breakers and maybe go do something that isn't dangerous for once. I'm tired of the reckless behavior from the both of you. You're both grounded for the rest of the week, I don't want to hear any more trouble or so God help us all."

Cheyenne and Damien immediately began to protest, but Dennis quickly shut both of them down. He merely ignored their complaints as he continued his way into the basement. He was already running late and hurried up to go live. Thankfully, Damien had reset the breakers and the power came back on by the time Dennis had everything set up.

"What am I gonna do with those two..." Dennis muttered to himself. He took one last breath, and then hit the button to go live.

"Howdy folks, welcome back to Get Real, the radio show all about keepin' it real. I'm your host Dennis McIntyre, and I hope y'all are having a mighty fine evening tonight."

Dennis went on with his radio show like usual. He covered the latest news headlines in local news, politics, and the sports world. Dennis also threw in his own commentary whenever he could. His brand of satirical, sarcastic humor was what kept his audiences coming back from more after all.

"Alright, that's just about it for the headlines y'all," Dennis took a sip of water as he thought about how to fill in the last 15 minutes of air time. Before Denis would just talk more about any of the topics he had previously covered, but with all the stress he was carrying, his mind went blank when he tried thinking of what to say next. His eyes wandered while he thought about it. His gaze landed on the supposedly hacked phone he had taken from Damien. He picked up and opened it, taking him straight to Tiktok where Damien had left off. An idea struck him while he held it.

"You know, I'mma keep it real with y'all. Shout out to all the hard working parents out there who give their families the world even if it goes unappreciated, and I really mean that when I say that cuz I too know what's it like to be a parent. I love my kids to hell and back, but believe me when I say that they're rarely not a handful..."

Dennis fiddled with the hacked phone as he rambled on about parenting. For the most part, the phone seemed normal so far as Dennis could tell. He remembered how Damien had mentioned that it was social media sites he was messing around with. With that in mind, he opened up Tiktok again. After clicking around on the app, Dennis soon stumbled into a plethora of illegal content. Removed videos, pirated music and movies, illegally manufactured filters, the entire underside of Tiktok was right at Dennis' hands. He scoffed as he scrolled through all of the removed content.

"If I had to blame one thing for why kids are acting more and more these days, I'd blame all the phones and apps. All this technology will brainwash the mind and make young kids go mad!"

Dennis kept scrolling through the horrors. He was disgusted by everything he had saw. He only covered a small fraction but he had already seen enough.

"Now, I know y'all can only hear my voice, but I just recently took away my son's phone for fear of what he could get himself into. Let me show you all what I mean when I say these phones will be the death of us all,"

Dennis then hit a button that activated one of removed Tiktok filters. After a moment of buffering, the filter loaded, and Dennis had begun the Me & You challenge.

***

Hector laid down on the couch as the Me & You challenge loaded on his phone.

He was bored that afternoon, and after doing a deep dive into the hidden side of the internet, he found himself trying out supposedly dangerous internet programs. Hector had read about the Me & You challenge through online forums. The information he found was vague and questionable at best due to being on websites known for false information and conspiracy theories. According to the forums, the Me & You challenge connected two users through a video call. The two users would then somehow switch bodies with no way to switch back, forcing the two people to take on entirely new identities.

"Switching bodies..." Hector read all he could about the strange phenomenon. He grew more intrigued the more he thought about it.

"...Sounds hot."

Hector waited patiently as the video call connected. Soon enough, he found himself on the phone with a graying middle aged man who was holding the phone inches away from his face.

"Hello? Hello?" the man said. "Can you hear me? Who is this?"

"Hey, I can hear you! But can you move the phone? Like, away from your face,"

The man followed Hector's instructions. The man saw Hector on the phone and scowled; Hector simply smiled in return.

"How's it going bro, how you doing?" Hector asked.

"Why do you look like that?"

"Huh? Like what?"

The man pointed at the screen while still holding the same disgusted look. Hector's smile faded as the man began pointing at his own face in all the same places Hector had piercings or tattoos.

"You talking about my piercings and tattoos?"

"How old are you?"

"23? Why do you ask?" Hector asked.

The man ignored him and instead went on a tangent about how the next generation was being mentally poisoned by phones and social media. He kept referring to both Hector and his daughter who apparently dressed in similar style to him. All the while Hector grew more annoyed.

"Hey man, what the fuck is your problem?"

"See what I mean, folks? Absolutely no respect for your elders, it's like I always say..."

The gray haired man went off on another rant about the dangers of bad parenting. While the man kept lecturing, Hector had decided he had enough.

He searched for the end call button on his phone. Hector expected the X button to be in the corner like always, but when he went to press it, it wasn't there. Hector searched for the button but it was nowhere to be found. He tried hitting the home button and even the power button, but neither did anything. Hector grew impatient, but then a 🔄 button appeared on his phone. He was unsure what the button was, but decided to push it anyway. An odd clicking sound played, but as Hector half expected, the call continued.

The man had paused his endless ranting when he heard the odd click. He brought his phone close to his face again, then moved it away.

"I'm tired of wannabe hot shot punks like you. Have a good day." The man declared before squarely pushing the 🔄 button with this thumb. He had expected the video call to end, but instead he and Hector got a face full of bright, white light- causing both of them to kneel over to the ground in pain.

***

Cheyenne waited outside the garage with her ear pressed against the door. As soon as she heard that her father had stopped talking, she went inside. A walk turned into a sprint when she had seen her father rolling on the floor, wincing in pain.

"Oh my God, Dad! Are you okay?" Cheyenne rushed to his side. She also took the liberty of shutting down the live broadcast. No doubt Dennis would've wanted that to avoid going over schedule.

Cheyenne helped her still groggy father up to his feet. She then led him to the kitchen, struggling to hold up his body weight as the two waddled over. She sat him down a chair and gave him some water. After some time, "Dennis" looked like he was back to normal.

"Thanks for the water... Man! My head is killing me right now..." Hector said while massaging his temples.

Hector and Cheyenne sat in silence for a while. The silence was broken by Cheyenne as she faced her father with her hands against her chest.

"Dad, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk back to you, I'm sorry. I know you don't want me dressing like this and I deliberately disobeyed. I promise I won't do it again, just please don't ground me!"

Hector stared with wide eyes as Cheyenne poured her heart out to who she thought was her dad. He looked over how she was dressed and didn't see anything wrong with it. In fact, she looked like a teen girl version of himself in an alternate universe.

"Uh... Sure, kid... It sounds like you know what you did was wrong. You're not grounded anymore," Hector answered skittishly.

"Wait, really!? Thank you Daddy!"

Cheyenne went in for a hug. Hector was unsure how to react, only patting her on the back in response.

"No problem, kid, now go enjoy yourself!"

Cheyenne left the kitchen beaming. Hector found himself alone in a house he did not recognize. He stood and surveyed his new surroundings.

"Sweet digs," Hector mumbled as he walked around. He caught a glimpse of himself as he passed by the stainless steel fridge. He noticed he wasn't himself anymore; instead, he was in the body of the gray haired man he had talked to over.

"Holy shit..." Hector checked himself out in his reflection. He ran his hands over his new silver hair and his fully matured body. He whistled as he admired himself. "...I'm a fucking silver fox DILF now!!"

Hector spent the next half hour checking out his new body, only interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. He picked out and answered the incoming video call. On the other side of the call was his old body, staring daggers into him.

"Oh hey it's you! What's up bro, you enjoying my body?" Hector said cheerfully. His old body only mad dogged him in return. Hector could only laugh at the situation.

"What are you laughing about? This isn't funny," Dennis finally spoke up.

"C'mon man, just loosen up for once-"

"Loosen up!? This is literally the worst time-"

"QUIT FUCKING TALKING OVER ME!!"

Hector shouted into the phone. His new voice allowed him to hit volumes he previously couldn't hit before. His voice surprised him just as much as it surprised Dennis, although Hector kept a poker face to hide it.

"Shit man, I've only known you for like 15 minutes and I'm already fucking tired of your bitchy attitude. Always talking and lecturing and criticizing... I bet you do the same thing to your daughter, huh."

"Don't you dare touch Cheyenne!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it. What the fuck do you even think of me if you think I'd get at some minor? Seriously, I'd smack the shit out of you if you were here right now."

The two men sat in silence. Neither man had anything positive to say to the other.

This lasted for a couple of minutes, until Hector grew tired of holding a scowl on his face for so long.

"Look man, I don't know why we switched bodies. But the fact is we switched, and we're just gonna have to live like this while we figure out how to switch back. We can make the best of this."

"Humph, and how do you expect me to do that?" Dennis scoffed.

"I don't know! Go wild, I don't care, my body used to it. Just- loosen up for once and actually enjoy yourself. I promise I'll hold down the fort here too, you don't have gotta worry about a thing."

There was a pause in the conversation again.

"C'mon, gimme a smile," Hector said. "...Atta boy, I know you had it in you, ya old geezer."

Weeks had passed since the body swap happened. At first, Hector had assumed that swapping back would be as easy as the initial swap. He was dead wrong, for the Me & You challenge had once again erased itself from both of their phones.

Dennis had instructed Hector to tell his tech savvy son to do some hacking, but no matter how hard Damien tried, he could not relocate the body swapping filter. Dennis grew more and more worried while Hector worked harder to keep him optimistic, though even he knew that eventually they'd have to just give up.

As time went on, Hector had fully embraced his new dad look. He hated that he had lost so many years due to his new older age, but that only motivated him to take control of his life again. Dennis made him swear not to make any drastic changes and Hector kept his word. Instead of reverting back to his old look, he decided to amp up Dennis' silver fox look. He dyed his eyebrows, he touched up his hair, and he even worked out like there was no tomorrow. Soon enough, Hector's new body was the epitome of refined, mature youth again.

Hector never told Dennis' family about the whole body swap situation per his request. But acting as Dennis was a breeze for Hector. He had no problem keeping up with the responsibilities of being a husband, a father, and a radio show host. He even improved the latter as his cheery disposition as a host caused Dennis' viewer counts to go up. Something Dennis hadn't seen in years. The twins had no problem with their new dad either, as Hector was much more fair as a father than Dennis. His wife Charlotte loved his "new attitude" too, though Hector had a feeling Charlotte's approval might've had something to do with the earth shattering, lip quivering, soul shaking orgasms he'd give her every weekend. If Hector knew how to do anything, it was how to indulge in pleasure.

As for Dennis, he too learned how to adjust into his new younger body. Granted, the newfound youth helped him settle in much quicker than he expected. Dennis no longer had to deal with back aches and frequent headaches now. Plus, he didn't really have much to take on by himself as Hector didn't have very many obligations. He was a carefree, single man who loved the minimalist lifestyle. Dennis took full advantage of his new situation and allowed himself to go wild, just as Hector had suggested.

Soon enough, Dennis had started looking at the world in a more positive light again. Hector's optimism was rubbing off on him. It was a fair tradeoff for Hector too, however, as Dennis put himself to work whenever he wasn't wilding out. He helped build up Hector's financial stability, and soon enough, Dennis had built up some luxuries for Hector to return to once they swapped back as a thank you gift.

"You sure you're doing alright?" Hector asked Dennis over the phone. The two made it a habit to check in every other week if not every week.

"Of course I am, I've honestly never been better!"

"Really? I'm glad to hear that, things on my side are pretty great too. Not gonna lie man, you have a hot body. Not saying I wanted to switch bodies, but if I had to, I'm glad I got to do it with a handsome DILF like you."

"Heh, you took the words right out of my mouth, Hector. I'd say the same about you, I'm loving it here!"

"Haha, oh yeah? You like what you see?"

"I love it," Dennis answered. He laid down as he talked on the phone.

"Well, I'm glad I got you to relax a little. We could all use a change in perspective every now and then."

Hector and Dennis shared a laughed together over the phone.

"Are you ready for me, Big Boy?"

Dennis felt a hand smack his ass. He turned his head and smiled.

"Alright, it's been nice talking to you, but I gotta go- ahh!!"

Dennis dropped the phone when he felt himself getting penetrated. First the tip entered his hole slowly, then he took the entire length with a steady thrust, causing his virgin walls to expand.

Hector smirked as he heard a moan coming from the phone.

"Alright, Dennis, you dirty old dog. You have fun now, just remember to breath and relax as you ride, okay? Talk soon!"

Hector hung up the phone and then proceeded to head to the master bedroom where Charlotte was already naked and waiting for him.

******

Meanwhile...

...Inside a run down apartment building in the middle of some shady neighborhood, there was one apartment whose two residents were still up at 3 in the morning. In the dark living room lit only by a computer screen sat a hefty young man with glasses as he fiddled away at his high end laptop. Something he had stolen only a couple weeks prior.

"Hey, Josh, check this out. Someone used the program again," the guy beckoned to the other person in the room. He was much thinner, and with dyed red hair.

"What? But I thought you said Tiktok already took it down," the red haired guy said as he walked over to his computer friend.

"It was, but someone's used it to swap. Some guy named Dennis McIntyre from Colorado, and some other guy named Hector Casco from California."

"Holy shit... do you know what this means, Will?" the red haired guy grew elated. "People like what we've made, and they want to use it. How many swaps are we at now?"

"Mmm... Counting the last one, we're at 214 now," Will read off of his screen.

"Yup, that settles it, we gotta re-upload the program. This is amazing! People really wanna use our little app!"

Josh celebrated while Will sat in silence in front of his computer. Josh's excitement died down when he saw that his friend didn't share the same feeling.

"What's up with you? This is literally everything we've worked for and you're not happy about it?"

"I don't know, Josh... I'm worried... I mean, we're at 200+ swaps and so far nothing really bad has happened. But... how much further can we go before we get caught? Our luck is bound to run out eventually!"

Josh only laughed while Will wiped the sweat beads forming on his forehead.

"Already a step ahead of you, bud. We just gotta take the program to the next level if we don't wanna get caught, and I know exactly how to do it too."

Josh leaned into Will's ear and whispered something. As he talked, Will's frown morphed into a mischievous smile.

Check out part four to this series here!

[strangelysamantha]

 crumbled cookies ☆

jj maybank x plus!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: abuse/hitting, hate speech, fat shaming, bullying, insecurities, swearing, fighting, jj’s dad, luke (yikes!) mad jj, mention of pills. 

words: 3,365.

summary: you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

request? nope, but requests are open :)

a/n: i randomly thought about this, i obviously don’t believe that us plus size baddies should ever be insecure, but i thought it would be a nice little angst imagine with fluff at the end! if you could, please comment and like if you enjoyed it, thank you! after i write a few requests i will proofread my stories :)

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

jj hadn’t answered any of your texts, usually this would worry you, but you understood that sometimes he just needed some space to be alone. you surprisingly were used to this because he always disappeared, and if he genuinely needed you, he knew where to find you. it also wasn’t bothering you because he had only been MIA for a few hours.

you, assuming that jj was just overwhelmed, decided to stay home and bake homemade cookies. jj always complimented your cookies, he loved taste testing them, and more importantly, he loved how you put so much effort into making them perfect, even if you were only making the cookies for him. jj wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely didn’t see you as just a friend. he didn’t know how he viewed you. he was too confused for his own good with his emotions. all he did know was that he depended on you, and that he never wanted to lose you. it would ruin him,  especially if he had done something to intentionally lose and hurt you.

you preheated the oven, excited to use a new cookie flavor for jj. you danced lightly to the music playing in the background of your kitchen, softly humming along as you gathered the dry ingredients, mixing them together. it was a fun little game you guys played, where he’d try and guess what extra ingredients you added that affected the cookie's flavor. he almost always got it wrong, but he was so cute sitting there always trying to guess it right, when he didn’t even know that much about cooking anyway.

unbeknownst to you, you were completely unaware of his feelings, despite the same feelings bubbling in your heart too. jj was your best buddy, and obviously you guys had flirtatious banter but it was nothing too serious. it didn’t help that every girl jj had a one night stand with, was the complete opposite of you. how could he like you, when every girl he fucks was not only skinny, but also rich, and mysterious?

pope wasn’t on your side either. he would always express how nauseated he felt when jj would jokingly flirt with you, and openly play with your feelings. he was quite vocal in scolding you when you would tell him that jj blew you off, or jj had pissed you off. deep down you did agree with pope, he wasn’t wrong.

a beep was heard from the oven as it was fully preheated. you had fully completed the cookie dough, now adding the most important ingredients. you decided to be nicer, and chose an easier flavor for jj to guess. you did this just in case something was seriously wrong he could at least be lifted up for guessing it right. m&ms and hershey’s kisses would be mixed together, creating a chocolate m&m hershey cookie, with added caramel on top. you quickly evenly separate the dough, before placing it in the oven waiting for it to rise.

the timer in the kitchen went off as you pulled the cookies out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself. you stick a knife into the cookie to ensure it was fully cooked before smiling contently to yourself. you let them cool off as you got dressed and prepared to go to jjs house.

you added caramel before sliding four cookies into a ziplock baggie. the cute baggy had a drawn on heart and a nice message for him. you didn’t expect to stay long, and you honestly didn’t even know if he would be home.

when you arrived to jjs house it looked vacant and abandoned. the nerves finally catching up to you as you realize he hasn’t talked to you all day. you knock on the front door, waiting for a response but you are left standing there waiting. you frown before hesitatingly walking down the steps. you look up when you hear a car approach, and a glimmer of hope flashes your mind as you thought it was jj, but instead it was his dad.

your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what to do. you waited to see if luke would talk but he just looked at you confused, and obviously annoyed. you shook your head quickly, “i’m so sorry, i was just going to drop these off for jj, but he’s not here so i’ll be on my way.” you smile softly, and start to walk away but his strong arms grab yours. you’re startled since his reaching for your elbow was quite unexpected.

“well you are already here. might as well get it over with.” his voice was unrecognizable as his emotions weren’t clear. you nod shyly. “no really i don’t want to inconvenience you, i can come at another time.” he shakes his head before walking to his door, opening it as the door loosely opens entirely, hitting against the wall to its side. you walk behind him being extra cautious in case he tries to grab you again.

you walk straight to the kitchen to set the bag of cookies on the counter, which was no use since right when you placed the bag, luke had scooped it into his hand reading the note. “oh, so you are the one dating my son?” your face twists in confusion. “no, no. jj and i are just friends.” you laugh awkwardly, swaying from feet to feet. the floors creak beneath you causing you to stop shaking back and forth. “okay good.” his eyes look up and down your figure as his mouth forms into a line. “i wouldn’t want him dating someone like… you.” his words hurt, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him.

you feel uncomfortable under his intense stare so you hurried to put an end to the conversation. “uhm. okay, welll thank you for letting me drop them off, i appreciate it mr. maybank.” you nod softly before he states, “no.” you turn over to him, “no?” you repeat as more of a question. your patience wears thin as you notice the cookies are still in his hand, and he is carefully undoing the ziplock that concealed the cookies.

he pulled a cookie out, before admiring it closely. “chocolate chip m&m caramel cookie. very yummy, very good choice.” you avoid eye contact, trying to focus on anything else displayed in the room. “and it’s still warm.” he stares at you as he takes a bite of the cookie, its crumbs slowly falling from where he sunk his teeth in. “it’s quite good.” you smile softly, “thank you… but-.” he cuts you off completely. “of course you, of all people, would be bringing him cookies. i’m not surprised, i can see you are trying to fatten my son.” his words stung you because this wasn’t what you were expecting. his father seemed intoxicated, and before you could leave it seemed like he still had stuff to say to you.

“yes the cookies are good, but they don’t excuse you for lying to my face. you are just like my ex wife… lying, scheming, going behind my back, but still creating delicious snacks.” you stumble back a little, as shock sets over you. “how did i lie?” you ask, quite confused as you hadn’t even talked to him that much. “i know you’re dating jj! i see his hickies i see that when he leaves this house it’s always to meet with your fat ass.” his words hold no meaning, he was just a lousy drunk taking his anger out on the closest thing to him. you stayed silent, when he suddenly shook his head before grabbing the rest of the cookies and throwing them on the floor, jumping on the bag, completely squishing them.

the once yummy cookies, now downgraded into a small pitiful pile that was brutally smeared against the kitchen's tile. your heart speeds up as his eyes are focused on yours, as if trying to read your emotions. “i’m sorry, but i’m not sure what i did to deserve you ruining my cookies?” your tone comes out sassier than intended which definitely didn’t help your case.

“pick it up.” he threw paper towels towards you, as he waited patiently for you to clean up his mess. you silently obeyed scooping your mutated bakery treat up. you got most of it cleaned, but you ran out of napkins. you bite your lip trying to think of a quick solution to finish picking it up so you could possibly leave, but it’s too late because he’s already grabbing your arm forcing you up. tears stream down your face, while you contemplate your choices.

before you could even register what had just happened, his hand had collided with your cheek, as he screams hurtful comments. “you are good for nothing. i honestly hope that jj didn’t choose you, because if he did, that would make him an embarrassment to this family.” he pushes you to the floor, and you quickly try to stand up so you can leave. you hurry to the door, but he catches you before you could get in your car and drive away. 

“you can't tell anyone about this. i swear if you tell anyone...” his tone is laced with venom and your face scrunches up in confusion. “dont act stupid! god this is why people treat you the way they do.” you look at him one last time before he sends a fast fist to your face, that hits the side of your nose, and your eye. your face begins to pulse as the blood rushes to the quick forming bruise. you couldn't think straight as everything had happened so fast. all you wanted to do was drop off cookies, but somehow you were now being punished just because you resembled this man's wife. your breath is shaky as your tears are starting to slow down, but they are still evident on your cheeks. 

jj’s dad stumbled backwards as if he had finally realized what he had done, before he eventually collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. as he landed on the couch, multiple loose pills fell from his pockets ensuring you that he wasn't mentally in the right place, and he was very obviously intoxicated.

you avoided jj at all costs, which was actually easy since he hadn't even contacted you. you were dreading his routine appearance that was bound to happen soon. you knew it was inevitable, he hasn't missed a nightly check in once, and you had been doing it for months. when you first met the pogues you were slightly scared since you were new in town and you didn't have any friends. so, jj took you under his wing. he quickly became protective over you, which is why he created this elaborate plan to sneak into your bedroom before bed every night. whether it was to just chat, talk about your day, or even just cuddle. you could always expect him at your window at around the same time every night.

usually you would confide in jj, ask for his advice. granted his advice isn't the greatest but it does help that he listens to your problems. not tonight. that wasn't the case. if anything, you wholeheartedly hoped that he would forget, or he would be too busy. he hadn't seen you since before your whole encounter with his father. you wondered if his father had told jj about what he did, and if he did, how did jj react?

you glance at the clock noticing that in the next ten minutes jj would be climbing his way into your window. your body was shaking with nerves as you glanced in the mirror. your black eye was a dead give away that something had happened. could you even tell him the truth? what if you lied, and then he called you out on it saying he already knew about it because his father told him. you contemplated every outcome of the future event that you weren't even ready when he slightly tapped your window. you quickly pulled on sunglasses that easily blocked your eye.

you smile widely, sliding your window up as he gracefully lands on your floor without making a noise, a talent he had perfected. “hey princess!” he has a huge grin on his face, his goofy smile is reason enough as to why you can't break the news to him about what his father did. “hi!” jj pulls you into a hug and you gladly take it. you wrap your arms tightly around his abdomen, as his arms are rubbing your hips. the hug ends and he slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your hips before he grabs your hand to move to the bed. “do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” jj asked. you waited, contemplating your choices. “either way is fine, you can choose.” you smile as he immediately gets into the little spoon position.

“hey i forgot to ask you why you are wearing those stupid glasses inside.” he laughs lightly as he reaches for them and you completely jump off the bed, scared he actually grabbed them in time. luckily, you were fast enough and the glasses were still settled on your face. “i have a horrible headache, that's all.” you nodded as his face slowly fell, he stood up, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. he glanced up at you. “we can turn the lights off so it isn't as bright in your room.” you shook your head at his compromise. “princess, i need to see your pretty face before i can declare that you are okay.” you hesitated, trying to piece together a quick story that you could tell him to explain how you wounded up with a gruesome bruise. he wasn't going to leave unless he knew you were okay.

he watched you intently, trying to see what you were hiding. “before i show you please promise me you won't freak out.” you reach for his hands and he grabs them in return, slowly nodding. “no, that's not going to count. please tell me that you won't be angry at me.” his heart swiveled up inside his chest as he heard that you thought he would be mad at you. “i promise that whatever you are about to tell me won't make me upset, and that i could never stay mad at you.” you nodded to his words. “okay so you know what you just said?” he tilted his head confused, “yeah?” you breathe in, trying to calm your nerves. “remember that.”

you hesitantly reach your arm up to expose your once hidden eyes. at first it doesn't register so he stares at you blankly. but the moment he saw it, he was already standing up, and freaking out. “hey you said you wouldn't be mad!” he ran fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes wide. “what the fuck…? i said i wouldn't be mad if YOU did something, i never said anything about not getting mad when it involves someone else!” he looks back at you and immediately investigates your eye. his jaw clenched as he looked above you, his hand gripping your chin. “who the fuck did this to you?” you stayed quiet, until he looked down at you waiting for an answer. 

silence fills the room leaving it eerily silent. “i can't tell you jj,” he laughs, shaking his head, “that's a funny joke, now tell me what happened and who the fuck hit you?” you looked away. “jj there's nothing you can do.” he followed along with your shenanigans. “and why is that?” you couldn't look at him so you looked at the floor. your silence was only making him more worried. “who was it actually? who are you protecting!?” he was getting frustrated. “fine. i'll tell you, only because i know you'll find out sooner or later.” he pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding your thigh, while the other grabbed your curvy hip. you took a deep breath before continuing. “okay. earlier today i baked you cookies and i stopped by your house so i could drop them off. but your dad was there, and i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. it was my fault. okay?” 

he shook his head, his grip on your thigh tightening. “you're telling me that my father gave you a black eye?” his tone was shockingly low as he absorbed every word you said. “yes. and he stomped on the cookies i made you.” his chest started heaving. “i fucking hate him! everything in my life he has to ruin. you, you mean so fucking much to me, and he’s over here throwing punches at you!” you stayed quiet. “jj?” he looked down at you, trying not to get too worked up because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, “yes princess?” you hesitated with what you were going to say. you leaned your head to rest onto his shoulder.

“i- okay, i really appreciate you, but i can't have you getting hurt because of me. you're not my boyfriend, and you don't have to protect me anymore. i know you feel obligated with that pact we made when i first moved here, but you don't have to inconvenience yourself by coming over here every night, or by fighting people who harass me, or anything. jj, i feel so bad that you are roped into this position because i never intended for this to happen.” he stays silent, “no way am i leaving you. princess, please throw that thought away right now. i’m here for you always. and i am going to continue to protect you because even if i'm not your boyfriend, that doesn't mean i don't want you safe.”

you are so stunned by his response that your breath gets caught in your throat. “what do you mean?” he smiles looking down, his hands finding themselves comfortable around your hips. “what i'm saying is, that i do want to be your boyfriend. i want people to know how much you mean to me, and i want the whole world to be jealous that i have you, and they can't have you. i want to be the one who protects you. so, if you'd want me too, i'd love to be your boyfriend, if not that is completely okay.” you stared at him, “jj, you'll never know how long i've wanted to do this.” he looks at you confused before your lips connect to his. you run your hand through his hair, while the other hand is sitting on his jaw. his hands hungrily grasp your hips as he pulls you closer to enhance the kiss. you both pull away, smiling.

you asked jj to spend the night with you. he agreed, which resulted in him laying on his back as your head lay still on his chest. one of his hands was always touching you, so he could ensure you weren't going to go anywhere. as you slowly fell asleep beside him, he started to think about what his father had done. with anger clouding his better judgement, he stealthily slipped out your grasp, and climbed out your window, set to fulfil the goal in his head.

eek i hope this was good <333. perhaps a part two...???

[mypoisonedvine]

claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I.  Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned.  “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter.  It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

//

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

[milqueandsugar]

yo request for a beach day with C!Philza+sleepy bois?

My mans really god that dad body but is absolutely floored when Y/N comes walking onto the beach with a sunflower bikini and A white open coverup and the Boys are just teasing the fuck out of him bc he just cant stop staring at you and maybe at one point Y/N drags him into the water and he has to pick her up by her legs so she doesnt go under bc shes short and hes just like 'holy shit holy shit holy shit shes so fucking hot-'

and later maybe he just says fuck it and kisses you 👉👈

I apologize I am a unashamed c!philza simp

JGJWJJGJUTUW I'm so sorry if that is alot you can choose to not do it

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready PT 1🏵

Warnings: slight nsfw

Genre: fluffy

| Philza |

Being an immortal being he's seen many many people come and go

He told himself that after his wife had died he wouldn't bother with love anymore, it wasn't worth it when you were bound to outlive everyone you ever knew, even your own son

That was until he met you

Unlike his previous wife he had fallen for you straight away

Your looks, your smile, your nervous giggle

All of it overwhelmed him

You practically had the Angel of Death at your beck and call

And you had no idea

He had been pining after you for only a few months, yet everyone seemed to know

Especially the Sleepy Bois

Phil was known to be one hell of a wing man for both Wilbur and Technoblade

It was about time they repaid the favor, yeah?

So while hiding it from Phil they secretly invite you to the beach party Tommy was holding

Really the only people who were supposed to be coming were Niki, Ranboo, Ponk, Awesamedude, Tubbo and Fundy

So imagine Phil's surprise when he sees you linked arms with Niki

You practically glowed in the late after noon sun, a thin layer of sweat over your beautiful skin, your hair flowing in the ocean breeze, you looked like a goddess

Not to mention your beautiful bikini, he had never seen you in so little before

He was more then ashamed he was so flustered over something as simple as a bikini but could you blame him?

Well the Sleepy Bois clearly could

"Whoa! Look at how red you are?"

"Probably because of Y/N"

"K-keep your voices down!"

"He's stuttering!"

"She's coming over"

"She's whAT-"

Turning he catches you waving towards them, walking over with a smile

"Hey guys! What smells good?"

"Phil's making burgers"

"Oooh! Make one for me?"

"O-Of course!"

Earning an elbow from Wilbur he cast him a quick glare

Turning to you he offers you a nervous smile

"You look lovely today Y/N"

"Thanks! Niki leant me one of her swim suits for the occasion, I don't usually get invited to beach parties afterall"

"Well we're glad you came Y/N"

"Yeah! Phil's been talking about you all morning"

"You have?"

He wanted to perish, right there on the spot

"Well we best be going now, hate to catch a sun burn in this heat!"

"Actually I dont-"

"Yeah let's go guys! Have fun! "

"Wait what?"

Phil had never felt more betrayed in his life

"They're being so weird, do you think they caught heat stroke?"

"No I think they're just being weird"

"Speaking of heat stroke, your looking pretty red Phil, did you put sun screen on?"

You reach up to place a gentle hand on his warming face and he can't deny the soft sigh that escaped his lips, catching himself before he nuzzled into your hand however he pulled away

"Its just from the grill, Y/N, no need to worry"

You slowly nod, clearly suspicious of the mans excuse

"Okay.. but if you get a sun burn don't come crawling back to me"

God he'd come crawling to you for any reason at all

"Rather hypocritical from someone not wearing any sunscreen either"

"That's true, Niki was going to help me but.."

You turn to see Niki having a splash fight with Wilbur and Tommy, one she is clearly losing

"She seems a bit preoccupied"

"I could.. help?"

"Really? Thanks!"

Reaching into your beach bag you pull out a small container of skin cream and hand it to the man

Sitting you down he contemplates his life choices as he, with as gentle as a touch as possible, he slathered your back and arms

Shivering a bit at the coolness of the cream he mutters a few apologies as he finishes up

"All done"

"Thanks Phil! Anything I can help you with in return?"

"Thank you, could you help me prepare the burgers?"

"Yup!"