#it's not fuckin fair lol i can do it but it's hard

[blitz0hno]

Physical flashbacks are so weird like "hey the body and amygdala want you to know! *you involuntarily recoil as if the Pain is happening despite there being no actual physical pain*"

And then you have to act like nothing just happened because technically nothing actually happened???? Like how is this helpful

[unexpectedbrickattack]

experimentin w shit heehee

[rafesangelita]

omg loveeee sheep!reader <3333

love how you said Rafe gets annoyed with all the stuffies on her bed, I can just imagine he's lying back on her bed and she's on top, kissing him and trying to grind on his thigh, but even though he thinks he threw all the stuffies on the floor he keeps finding more like digging into his back and getting in his way and he gets frustrated and makes her grind on one of her big teddy bears until she cums in her panties omggggg

warnings: mean!rafe, kissing, heavy petting, dry humping, thigh riding, rafe curses at reader in frustration, riding a stuffed animal lol, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, male masturbation

a/n: first fic with sheep!reader, i’m so happy that so many of you loved her <3 leave me some req’s!

“fuck— hold on,” you shyly pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips, watching as he threw yet another stuffed animal onto the floor, “this is ridiculous, you know that?” he pulled you back down, his large hands palming and groping the globes of your ass from underneath your skirt. “but you got all of those for me..” you whimpered, dragging your hips against his toned thigh. rafe kissed you deeply, the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth making a surprised ‘oh!’ fall from your lips. you were so innocent in his eyes, he loved to do things that would make your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“yeah, but do you have to have all of them on your bed? i could build you a shelf or ‘somethin—” just then, he adjusted himself with you still pathetically trying to hump his thigh when another stuffie digged into his ribs. “goddammit, y/n!” your eybrows knitted together in worry, his tone making you jump. he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up, taking you with him. “m’sorry, i didn’t mean to yell at you.” he stroked the side of your face, eyes falling onto the huge teddy bear that sat at the corner of your bed. “matter of fact, why don’t you grab that one there at the end?”

you looked back at the teddy bear rafe won you from the fair before you two had officially started dating. “aw, i love this one.” you got up, carrying it over as rafe patted the empty spot next to him. “yeah, i know. you love all of them right?” you nodded, a little confused as to where he was taking this. “well since you love them so much, and they keep appearing out of nowhere, you could hump that instead.” you blinked at his words, your underwear damp with your need for release. “you’re telling me you’ve never done that before?” rafe whispered.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. you remembered grinding on the same teddy bear the night rafe got it for you. he had kissed before letting you go inside, the kiss being so dreamy, your mind couldn’t help but wander at what else he was really good at. you had took the bear to your room that night and pretended it was rafe instead. “look at your face.. you have done it before,” a wicked smile adorned his mouth. “show me how you did it.” rafe was palming himself through his shorts when you straddled the damned thing.

you started moving, a whine emitting from your pretty little mouth as you finally got the friction you were looking for. he continued to rub himself over his cargos, a sigh leaving his lips as he grew harder by the minute. rafe loved hearing those moans and whimpers of yours, the sound making his eyebrows knit together. soon, he had taken himself out of his underwear, shamelessly stroking his cock as tears rolled down your cheeks in frustration. even though you were still making yourself feel good, you just felt so empty. “rafe..” you cried, “please, i need you inside..” hearing you beg was his favorite.

“me too, baby, i’m fuckin’ aching,” he groaned, you looked down at his mean, throbbing cock, “make yourself cum in those panties and maybe i’ll give it to ‘ya.” determined, you moved your hips faster, your glossy lips swollen from biting on them so hard. your nails dug into the soft material of your teddy bear, your peak starting to form in your tummy. your thighs ached for a break, but the need to have rafe’s cock fucking you stupid was surpassing any kind of discomfort you felt. “ah, fuck!” rafe had to stop touching himself, the only place he wanted his cum to be was inside of those soft, slick walls of your cunt.

not being able to resist himself any longer, rafe leaned forward, taking one of your tits in his mouth as he lapped at the sensitive bud. you nearly screamed at the added stimulation, cradling his head to keep him close while your high washed over you in pure ecstasy. rafe watched you tremble and shake, his hands coming up to still drag your cunt across the teddy bear despite your pleas for him to stop. he loved to see you overstimulated. “n-no more!” you gasped. rafe ignored you, not stopping until you came again, a mess gushing from between your thighs.

you couldn’t help but double over, falling into your boyfriend’s chest as he shushed your cries. “fuck, you always do so good for me.” he praised, leaving open mouth kisses up your shoulder. you fell limp in his arms, small pants leaving your lips as he stood up, throwing you back down on your bed. you hissed, your hand coming up to hold your back. “shit! did i hurt you, baby?” rafe turned you over, his eyes falling on a stuffed animal with hard plastic eyes. “that’s it— i’m making you that shelf!” he scolded.

[beloveds-embrace]

brain empty only thought - TF141 are all dancers for magic mike in london and give their stage manager a private show

I love your brain anon 😩 taking free liberties with whatever a show manager does here fyi lol but i also tried to watch an actual magic mike show but i turned into a blushing mess and had to stop halfway. Fair warning tho, i’ve never written anything quite like this 😭 all of this is safe, sane and consensual

You are such a good stage manager to them, though, always ensuring everyone is on the same page, communications are going well, all props are set and the most important thing in your opinion; all the dancers are doing well. You always make sure there are plenty of drinks, they’re well-slept and ready and-

You do so much for them, such a good stage manager. It’s only right that they spoil you with a private show all carered to you, in a private room where they make you sit down on chair placed right in the middle.

Have you seen this choreography before? Yes. Are you in any shape or way ready to have Kyle kneel in front of you on one knee, gazing up at you like you are star, and spread your thighs open so he can nuzzle his face right between your tights? You aren’t.

“Smell so fuckin’ good, pretty.” Gaz mumbles, groaning low against your skin.

Your face is flaming red, feeling him kiss the soft pudge of your thighs before he slides up with a wink so Johnny takes place on your lap, leather jeans tight on his ass and bulge. He takes your hovering hands, and places them on his thighs while he grinds against you, hips pressing together.

You can barely bite your noises back, clenching your thighs shut.

“No staying silent, bonnie,” he croons, thumb rubbing your lips. You hadn’t even realized your mouth was slack and open until he pushes his thumb in for a few seconds, and you obediently, impulsively, suck on it. His eyes darken, and he leans to kiss the corner of your lips, hovering over your lap. “Good girl.”

It takes everything in you not to whine out loud, drenched between your thighs.

When he moves off with another kiss, it’s Ghost who kneels in front of her, the music slower now, deeper. He takes her hands, kissing her palms through his mask and guiding her hands to the buttons of his silk button-up that bared his defined collarbones already, scarred skin glowing the more you reveal of him.

God, you want to bite him so badly.

“Look at me, doll.” He orders, and you so easily obey you can see the crinkle in his mask. Like a snake, Ghost twists his body so his back is across your knees, shoulders and head on your lap, peering up at you with his legs spread and holding his body up.

“Si-“ you whine at last, resolve breaking. He pulls your hands down his shoulders, and you take the hint by caressing his pecs, his abs, the strong muscles taut under your exploring hands. Feeling just a little bold and knowing he doesn’t mind, your fingers tease along his belt.

“He’s so fucking handsome, isn’t he?” Captain Price croons behind you, big hands settling on your shoulders, dipping into your blouse to toy with your bra straps. “All my boys are. But you’re our girl, aren’t you? Our pretty, beautiful girl, always working so hard for us. My boys adore you, sugar.”

Your mouth dries up, staring up at him, hands still on Ghost. “I…”

“No words needed, doll.” he scoffs, smug the way only a man who knows how easily he can command a room can be. His hands leave your skin and before you can pout, he’s reaching under your thighs to carefully pull you up while still being mindful of Simon. He sits in your chair, you on his lap and Ghost still under your touch. “Let us spoil you, yeah?”

And who are you to even think about saying no to such a beautiful, tempting offer?

[wreckedandpolemic]

forgive me? - matty healy

prompt: lovers' quarrel

(mdni) and we continue ahead with valentine75!! ok pls do not look too closely at the argument here i suck so hard at angst i cant even half ass it as a setup for porn lol

warnings: oral (f receiving), hand stuff, idk there isn't huge amounts to this

The silence in your flat is deafening, stretching between you and Matty like a chasm, your anger welling so deeply at the bottom that you want to drown him in it.

“I’m sorry?” he ventures, and you whip around to face him. The sheepish grin he wears is, admittedly, distractingly adorable; usually, it’s enough to melt you at least a little, but this time you can barely see it through your blinding anger.

You scoff. “You’re sorry, huh? Oh, well, I guess that makes it totally fucking fine, then!” You kick off your shoes with more force than necessary, sending your expensive heels skittering across the floor. “Tonight was important to me, do you even realise that? Are you so up your own arse that you think everyone wants to be on the Matty show twenty-four seven, or do you just not care?” A sense of sick satisfaction spreads as he processes your words, expression crumbling for a split-second and reforming into a sharp sort of anger that warns that Matty isn’t going to make this easy for you.

Which suits you just fine. You’ve never been one for an easy win. Never been much for losing, either. You fold your arms as Matty rounds on you. “I’m up my own arse? That’s fuckin’ rich, comin’ from you, treatin’ me like a fuckin’ toddler all night!” He’s gesticulating wildly, accent thickening through his frustration, and it takes a tremendous amount of your self-control not to laugh. “Matty, don’t touch that. Matty, don’t talk to him. Matty, come back here.” He puts on an affectation of your voice and accent that’s equal parts insulting and hilarious, and you’re lucky he doesn’t pick up on your quiet snort of laughter. “You actually said come back here! Like I’m a damn dog!”

“Dog would’ve been better behaved, probably,” you mutter. “Wouldn’t have got belligerently drunk and accosted the press, either.” Matty steps closer, breathing hard, tongue darting out to wet his lips tantalisingly. Your traitorous eyes flicker down to his mouth, soft and pink and wet and tempting, and it’s a mission to haul your mind back on track.

“I didn’t fucking ‘accost’ anyone. I told them to get the fucking cameras out of my face, ‘cos I wasn’t gonna give them a fuckin’ story at your fuckin’ event.” Matty defends, and, okay, the sentiment is there, but he had just made everything endlessly worse.

Groaning, you bury your head in your hands. “I told you. I fucking asked you, one time, just nod your head, smile, say you’re proud of me. Was that so fucking hard for you?” You hadn’t meant to admit that part. That it stung not to have his approval.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Matty snaps. “Of course I’m fucking proud of you. You’re a fucking star. Just wish you weren’t so embarrassed of me,” he adds, and whatever part of your anger that had crumbled at first sharpens in your chest again at his attempt to guilt-trip you.

He’s not being fair — of course you’re not embarrassed by him, but his behaviour fucking embarrassed you! “You told a fucking crowd of journalists that Jamie, who I have been on a fucking months-long press tour with, and I quote, ‘acts like a massive wanker.’ And he fucking heard you!”

Matty shrugs. “Well, he does. Don’t like the way he talks to you. Could’ve called him a rude cunt, too. Would’ve been even more true.” he mutters sullenly, scowling at the ground.

“God, Matty, you are so— mmph!” You’re cut off by him surging forward, crushing your lips together in a bruising kiss. You pull his lower lip into your mouth and bite down on it, iron spilling over your tongue as the skin tears beneath your teeth. After a long, indulgent moment, you force yourself to shove him away, gasping. “You never fucking listen! You can’t just kiss me ‘cause you don’t wanna hear it,” you snap, pushing down the heat that wells instinctively between your legs.

He’s flushed, breathing hard, unfairly gorgeous like this. “You look so pretty when you’re mad, baby,” he murmurs, tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, the gentle touch making you shudder. He’s a master at this; resolving your arguments with doe-eyed pouts and wet, needy kisses.

Your resolve is crumbling. “Matty, don’t,” you warn feebly, lust spinning dizzily in your mind and swelling until your rational thoughts are dissolved. Matty grins, predatory — he has you pinned, and he knows it.

”My pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “My little star. Forgive me?” His eyes are wide, faux-innocence shining down at you as your last thread of self-control breaks. It isn’t lost on you that he hasn’t actually apologised, but as his lips press against yours and his tongue sweeps into your mouth, you can’t remember why you care.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours as he walks you to the sofa. Your stomach swoops as he pushes you down, desire thrumming in your veins. Every last thought falls out of your head as it knocks against the armrest, your back arching up towards him. “C’monn,” you whine, reaching out to him where he stands above you, his gaze hot as it roams eagerly across your skin.

Matty climbs over you, adjusting your legs so he can kneel between them, goosebumps breaking out where he slides a hand up your thigh, agonisingly close to where you need it. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he instructs, sliding your dress up your body until a puddle of satin pools around your waist, cool and slick against your heated skin. His warm fingers crook around your panties and he drags them down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. A soft moan escapes you as he rubs a slow circle into your clit, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “So much better than fighting, hm?” he teases, and a flash of annoyance cuts through the lust as you remember exactly how you got into this position.

”Don’t push it,” you hiss, raking a hand through his curls and tugging harshly. He whimpers deliciously against your skin, a pulse of heat spiking deep in your bones. “I’m still mad at you,” you warn, searching your rapidly-blurring mind for your long-foregone anger.

“So take it out on me,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your cunt, your body tingling under his gaze.

”What?” Your mind is already hazy, the sight of his head low between your thighs infinitely distracting, the promise of his tongue unfathomably tempting.

“I’m going to put my mouth on your sweet little pussy, and I’m going to listen to everything you have to say until you come. Call me names, if you want. Tell me everything I’ve ever done in my life that’s fucked you off, and I won’t say a word.” It’s such a Matty way of resolving an argument that you can’t find a response. “You get to yell at me and you get to get off. Pretty good deal if you ask me.” Matty’s smirk splashes you with a bucket of cold water, latent frustration blooming under your skin — a sudden need to slap the smugness off his face overtakes you.

You beckon him, waiting until his eyes are closed and his lips are parted, a gentle breath brushing against your mouth. He relaxes, expecting a kiss, expecting to be off the hook, and you crack a hand hard across his cheek with a grin. “God, that felt good,” you say as he recoils, rolling your eyes theatrically at his punched-out moan. “Such a fucking slut. Put your mouth to better use before I change my mind.” He shouldn’t make it so easy for you to take back the upper hand.

It’s almost comical how quickly his tongue is buried inside you, a thick pulse of heat sent kicking in your cunt. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you swallow a moan as you bury a hand in his curls. “Wish I could fuck your pretty mouth. Shut you up proper for once.” Matty moans into your cunt, the sound deliciously gratifying as it vibrates through you. “That’s your problem, you know,” you continue, the effort of keeping your voice level monumental against the waves of pleasure rising inside you. “You never fucking shut up. You’re— mmh, so fucking arrogant. You act like— ah!” His teeth scrape over your clit and you cry out, grinding your hips against his face as heat throbs sharply under your skin.

”Go on,” he says, grinning up at you with wet, slick lips. He hisses as you yank his curls harshly, dragging his mouth back to your cunt. He licks at you like a starving man, heat pooling in your belly, your limbs trembling and toes curling.

”You act like the fucking world revolves around you,” you continue, struggling to drag the words to the forefront of your soupy mind. “You’re so fucking— God, Matty, fuck!” you whimper, the rest of your sentence lost in the mind-numbing pleasure swirling through you. Matty isn’t playing fair, licking and sucking and kissing at you sweetly, your world blurring around him.

He pulls away and quirks an eyebrow at you, like he’s waiting for your surrender. As fucking if. You take a moment to catch your breath, fingers digging into the edge of the sofa to anchor yourself before he dips his head again, licking a broad stripe along your cunt that makes you whine pathetically at him. “You’re ridiculously pretentious,” you bite out, gasping as his tongue fucks into you in an obscene, glorious rhythm. Ecstasy coils in your limbs, your body heavy at the edge of oblivion. “Disrespectful. And you just. Don’t. Fucking. Listen.” You punctuate your last words rocking your hips against his face, your cunt fluttering around his tongue.

Matty presses wet kisses to your thighs, sweet and teasing as you whine. “Are you done?”

“Repeat it back to me,” you order as he licks his lips, framed prettily by the V of your legs. “So I know you were listening.”

“I’m irresponsible.” He kisses your inner thigh. “Arrogant. Inappropriate at the worst times.” He licks at your clit and you buck your hips against his face, fighting to hold at bay the flood of heat waiting to overwhelm you. “The people you work with think I’m white trash.”

You fist a hand in his curls, tugging hard enough that you feel him hiss in pain against your skin. “Don’t be a smartarse.”

You can sense that he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it at the last second. “I’m pretentious. Disrespectful,” he continues. “And I just.” He laps at your clit. “Don’t.” Heat floods your body as Matty slides two fingers into your sopping cunt and crooks them at an angle that has molten pleasure spilling over you. “Listen.” He sucks gently on your swollen clit, the pleasure enough to pull you over the edge, ecstasy coiling deliciously around your insides. You whimper, grinding down against his face as you come, your cunt fluttering around Matty’s tongue.

You sigh contentedly. “Good boy,” you murmur, savouring his shudder. “So good when your mouth’s full of my cunt. Like you so much better when you’re not talking.”

Matty looks up, eyes wide and face soaked with you. “Forgive me?” he asks, wearing the same sheepish grin that had failed to sway you before.

You sigh dramatically, the seeds of an idea taking shape in your mind. “Come here,” you say, a fond smile tugging at your lips. It’s a struggle to keep it from turning cruel as he takes the bait. “Silly boy.” Eagerly, Matty climbs over you, cupping your jaw and pressing his lips to yours, gently at first, turning hungry as you swallow down the taste of yourself. He moans into your mouth, grinding his clothed cock against your sensitive core. “Needy, are you?” you tease, a faint edge of danger lacing your tone. “Want me to get you off?” Glassy-eyed, he nods down at you, sweet and pleading. “Use your words.”

He swallows thickly, blinking hard. “Want you to make me cum,” Matty murmurs, casting his eyes down like he’s ashamed. You raise an eyebrow when his gaze lands back on your face, and he adds a reluctant, “Please.”

Sliding out from under him, you lead him into your bedroom, laughing derisively as he strips out of his jeans and boxers before the door even shuts. “God, you’re pathetic,” you scoff, smirking as his eager expression falters slightly with the realisation you haven’t let him off the hook.

“Mhmm,” Matty agrees, switching tack and plying you with sweet doe eyes.

“Get on the bed,” you order, kneeling in his lap when he obeys. His hands wander to the hem of your dress, brushing over your thighs as he starts to lift it, and you swat him away. “Think you deserve to fuck me after the way you acted today?” You glare down at him, pulling at his hair to tip his head up towards you. After a long moment, his internal war clear on his face, Matty shakes his head mutely. “No. But you’re being good now, so…”

Matty inhales sharply when you wrap your hand around his cock, flushed and sticky with want. You pump him slowly, spreading precum over him, and he trembles with the effort of holding himself still, sweetly pliant under your hand. “Thank you,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

You lean down to press your lips against his, swallowing his needy, suppressed moans. “It’s okay, baby. Being so good. Can fuck my hand if you need to.” You’re being cruel, now, knowing how you’re going to leave him, but it’s sickly thrilling having him in your power like this.

Murmured thanks fall from his lips between sweet little whines, his hips bucking into your fist as his cock leaks over your skin. Languidly, you press your tongue into his mouth, trading long, sloppy kisses broken up by Matty’s pleasured moans.

Taking Matty apart under your skilled hands is easy, now; you’re practised in everything he likes. You dig your thumb into his slit, twist your wrist just so, swallow every sweet noise he makes. His body tenses, his groans deepening, turning rhythmic, signalling his orgasm. You let him chase his release up until the very last second, pulling away and smirking meanly down at him.

Confusion clouds across Matty’s face as he looks up at you, reeling from his ruined orgasm as if you’ve slapped him. You let him catch his breath before you take him in your hand again, working over him, pulling him to the edge again. “Do you have anything to say, baby?”

Matty’s mouth falls open, the struggle to pull any meaning from your words plain on his face. “Please?” he tries, face falling when you shake your head, a moan escaping him as you flick your thumb over his slit. “Thank you,” he mumbles thickly. “I love you.”

You cock your head, appraising him. “That’s nice. But not quite. Try to think a little bit harder, yeah? I know that’s tough when I’ve got you all stupid for me, but try,” you croon, tone sympathetic and deriding all at once.

Matty’s face scrunches in concentration. “‘M sorry!” he chokes out, whining when you press a kiss to the head of his cock.

“That’s it,” you breathe, kissing him softly in reward. “Good boy.” Arousal coils in your belly at the sight of him, breaking into a thoughtless mess under your hands. You stroke over his cock a few times more, watching his stomach tense and relax as his orgasm builds. Then you stop, letting him whine desperately into your mouth.

He hasn’t wised to your game, still hopeful through his lust-hazy gaze. “You embarrassed me today,” you chide. “Why?” You dip your head, lapping over the tip of his cock, letting him thrust into your mouth, a spit trail connecting your skin for a brief moment. You kiss the salt of him back into his mouth, devouring his desperate moans as you stroke him. “I asked you a question,” you murmur against his lips.

There’s an answer forming on his tongue, you can see, watching him struggle to swallow it down. You pull away, lifting your hand to lap the taste of him off your fingers, giving an exaggerated moan. Matty whimpers, desperate, hips rocking against nothing as you batter against his defences. A burst of pleasure licks up your spine when you drag your fingers through your still-soaked cunt. Matty’s answering moan as you wrap your wet fingers around his cock is nothing short of pathetic, low and thick with lust. Clicking your tongue disapprovingly, you repeat your question, the ensuing silence thick with the unsaid. You know the answer, but it’s no fun not to pry it out of him. “I was jealous, okay!” he gasps out. 

He won’t meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Aw, I know,” you croon sympathetically. Your touches turn tender, coaxing. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to be jealous. Don’t want anyone but you. I’m yours, yeah?” you promise, lifting his head to deliver your words into his shadowed eyes.

“Mine,” he echoes faintly, rolling his hips up into your hand and whining. Your thighs clench at his possessive tone; you love being his, being the only one who gets to have him like this. “Gonna cum, fuck, please let me cum, fuck!” The last syllable crumbles into a sob as you pull away, ruining him for the final time. “‘M sorry, ‘M sorry, please let me cum,” he whimpers, so sweetly pathetic that you almost want to let him cum.

Almost. Matty’s chest heaves, struggling for breath and sanity as you climb off him, smoothing your dress down nonchalantly. Pouting down at him, you click your tongue condescendingly. “Poor baby. You don’t get to cum tonight, okay? How are you gonna learn a lesson if I give you what you want now?”

He gasps, chokes, twitching as he fights to stay still. “Please?” he murmurs, so quiet that you aren’t sure whether he’s addressing it to you or subconsciously voicing his need.

Either way, you shake your head at him with a shrug. “Get control of yourself and we can watch a movie, yeah?”

Matty gives a shuddering nod as you turn to leave, squaring your shoulders so you don’t look back at him.

After a few minutes, Matty slopes into the living room, dressed but still looking fucked-out, hair wild and eyes downcast. You rest your head in his lap when he comes to sit beside you, smiling blithely and uncaringly up at him.

“Are you still mad?” he ventures, petting your hair tentatively.

“Depends,” you answer, feeling his body tense at your words “Are you gonna pull that shit again?”

“No,” he replies without hesitation, shuddering at the thought of what you just put him through

“Then no,” you grin, and Matty relaxes under you. “But you still don’t get to cum,” you can’t resist adding.

He pouts down at you, but his eyes are shining with mischief, any lingering tension fully faded now. “Can I make you come again, then?”

Sitting up, you climb into his lap and kiss him for a long, luxurious moment, heat swelling between you as his tongue slides against yours. “Say please.”

[slippinninque]

😤Fussy 😤

Fontaine x black reader

Fontaine listens on as you get some things off your chest.

Warnings: fluff, cursing, fussy!reader, long fic, before work drop so may have some typos before I can edit lol

Fontaine can tell the difference between you being angry and you being fussy.

One would entail a cold front of emotions, you turned into an absolute Ice Queen when angry.

Fussy, on the other hand, Fontaine found you to be utterly adorable. He would never dare to say this as the Ice Queen will appear, but he did keep his smiles to himself.

You reminded him of a video he saw of a kitten at the vets office, just meowing and screaming at the audacity of being taken care of.

How you stomped around the house like an angry little bear, your lil' flip flops slapping frantically as you tried to remember what you came into the room for.

If he saw you wince when taking off your bra or feel you tossing in turning in bed, he knew what was coming. He kept the heating pad and ice cream bars ready.

The wrinkle in your nose? The sharpness to your gaze? The one dimple that came out when you purses your lips? Fontaine was weak for it.

He rather you have a rough day and come home spitting fire rather than see you tripping over your tears.

Fontaine knew you were a pot of emotions and not everyone that poured out may be pleasant, but he loved you more than enough for that not to matter. What mattered to you mattered to him. While he may rob you or poke fun, Fontaine will still offer any help you may need.

--------

"Whatchu doin', pretty?"

"Locking up."

"Mhn. Sound mad, you okay?"

"...smch, I'm fine. This dang-darn-damn-fuckin'-fuck ass gate won't close!

Fontaine choked on the other end of the line and you paused in wrestling with the iron gate. It was never the same since the Disastrous Book Fair of 2018. Poor thing.

"Don't you be sayin' that out loud, baby. No one should know yo' gate don't work."

"What? What they goin' do, burgle some damn books? At the free book house?"

"Damn, that's what they callin' libraries now?"

You growled into your phone as you strained to keep the latch lines up just enough to flip the lock.

"That's what Imma call 'em now. D'you know this old man got mad at me 'cause I wouldn't show him how to pull up titty pictures?!"

"Mn! Bold as hell."

"Right? Then gonna look me up an' down and ask for someone else t--!"

You gasped then shrieked as the latched pinched your finger before settling into place. Rage doused you and before you could recall yourself--you dropped your bag and kicked the gate.

"Fuck you, fucking broke-ass, rusty-ass, tragic-ass gate! Imma turn yo' ass into scrap!"

Furiously stabbing the lock home and finally securing the gate, you grabbed your fallen items. Still ranting and raving under your breath, you did take a look around to see you were alone before tattling to Fontaine.

"The gate fucking bit me..."

"Just come on home, baby, okay?" Fontaine's voice gentle and it somehow only fueled your indignation.

"I am," You snapped as you stomped towards your car, "I want to cuddle. Hard."

------

Yowling, crowing, and calling --you told on the day you had. Unreasonably unsatisfied patrons, rinky-dink electronics that should have been swapped out ages ago, and to top it all off the A/C died as the day reached its muggiest.

"That was when I decided to leave the house." You muttered, staring gloomily down at the bump of your belly beneath the seat belt.

You were only bloated but you hated how you looked like you were expecting in your favorite skirt. Your hair wasn't fuzzy in the way you liked and your locs were staging a rebellion.

As you crawled through the late-afternoon traffic, you noted that your tank was nearing half. You always kept a full tank if you could help it.

"I ain't worried 'bout that car," Fontaine's voice held no room for argument through the car speakers, "I'll take your car an' fill it up later--I asked you to come on home."

When Fontaine wouldn't let you stop for gas, you huffed and puffed to his unceasing fondness. All up until you pulled down the street and into your driveway.

As soon as you came through the door, Fontaine was there to meet you. He took away your purse and pulled you into his arms, despite your grumblings.

"I could have done it, y'know." You grumbled into his chest. It felt good to be home. It felt better being in Fontaine's arms but there was a restlessness under your skin. You resisted the urge to bite the

"I want to do it for you, how's that?" Fontaine countered before he began running his hands over your aching shoulders. You grumbled, momentarily lost in the feel of his hands on you.

Then you remembered your outrage.

"No, I wanted to do it 'cause I was out and I could have gotten my cinnamon bun early. I could have slept in an extra 5 minutes..."

He leaned put his lips to your ear, "Then how 'bout I get you your cinnamon bun, too. Hm?"

"I guess..."

"Yeah?"

His lips trailed softly around your neck to kiss your cheek, arms tightening around you enough that the next sigh that escaped you wasn't as hostile.

Fontaine took your silence as acceptance as he lead you away from the door and past the living room.

"I want to sit." You muttered, enticed by the blanket nest you made the previous night. Fontaine held you fast with as tsk and insisted you shower.

Your aggravation flared but before you could open your mouth to complain, Fontaine kissed you again. He grabbed a handful of your ass in tandem, swallowing down your surprised yelp.

"Get in there and clean up, Imma feed you and you can tell me all about it."

He released you with a pat to your ass and a "go on now" slant to his eyes. Stomping your foot was all you could think to do before turning on your heel and going towards the bathroom.

-------

The shower did help to loosen your body but the wrinkle in your brow remained as you left the bathroom.

Fontaine met you with another kiss, pressing a plate into your hands before wordlessly setting you toward the couch. You gratefully settled into your blanket nest and released a huff, your comfort and hunger coming at once.

Still...

You didn't eat. You craned your neck over the couch to try and see into the kitchen, only to be caught by Fontaine as he balanced his dinner and drinks for the both of you.

"I'm comin', baby." His knowing grin warmed your face as you settled back down. Then you registered what was on the screen and perked up, absentmindedly reaching for your folk.

"You don't mind, do you? You can put on somethin'--

"No, no--I want to see you play."

Fontaine had a talent for eating dinner and keeping himself alive on GTA. You liked the chaos of the game and Fontaine liked to ride around to cause some just for you.

By the time your fork hit the ceramic of the plate, Fontaine was joined by a few of his homies though he didn't bother with the headset. You watched them challenge rivals and loot their spots. The action sucked you in and hearing the gang laugh together and crack jokes loosened your frown up.

Belly full and suddenly feeling very lazy, you fell over to lay in his lap. Fontaine chuckled and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. He shifted to put his feet up on the table, giving you more room to lay out and face the TV.

"Feel better fusspot?"

Maybe a bit pouty but the only remainder of your annoyance came from your bandaged finger. You could not recall too much, not while settled on Fontaine's warm thighs and perfectly encased in your blanket.

Content was creeping back into your chest, shooing away the yucky feeling and returning your balance. All you had to say about your day has been said ten times over, the horse was buried by now.

"...Yeah. I feel better."

Looking up at him in time to catch his fond smile, you felt the rest of your ire fade away. You just had an off day and you would have a better one tomorrow.

Now was time to enjoy the night with your man.

-----------

Ending notes: another before work drop of something that was flying around my mind! 🤣Tell me what you think and give me some prompts! Im slow but I love to get them! Please comment and reblog! 💕💜✨

✨taglist: ✨@megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@mcondance@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@miyuhpapayuh@mogul93 @kindofaintrovert@blowmymbackout @mcondance @kindofanenigma @eggnox

[hazbinshusk]

21 with Blitzy, please :)

my love of domesticity went to war with my being a whore for this one lol prompt #21: dealer's choice

“Since when do you know how to cook?”

Blitzø pauses in his endeavours to locate a wooden spoon long enough to look offended. “I’m a parent, ain’t I?”

You smile, shrugging a shoulder. “Fair point.”

“Fuckin' right it’s a fair point,” he grumbles, lighting up when he finally locates the spoon in a drawer among far too many knives. He points at you with it, stabbing the air before tossing it into the bowl of pancake batter. “Better watch that mouth or I’ll let you go hungry. Questionin’ my cutinary talents…”

“It’s ‘culinary’,” you correct with a grin, and you giggle when he flips you off. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, still dressed in your pyjamas. Loona was staying at a friend’s, and the two of you had taken full advantage of the empty apartment. The broken lamp and tangled sheets – not to mention the now half-empty bottle of lube in the shower and the aching of your thighs – a testament to that. “Besides, I thought you liked what I do with my mouth.”

A small growl rumbles through Blitzø at that, and he jabs the spoon at your chest, this time managing to drip pancake batter onto your thighs. “You wanna be a whore, or do you want breakfast? ‘Cause I’m not cookin’ twice.”

You hold up your hands in surrender despite the smile still playing on your lips. “Sorry, chef.”

He smirks, setting a frying pan on the stovetop. “Not as fun as ‘daddy’, but I could see that workin’.”

“Now, who’s a whore?” you retort, waving a hand down at the batter splattered on your bare thighs. “You got a towel or something?”

His smirk widens, and he abandons the batter bowl, taking hold of your knees and pushing them apart. “Or somethin’.”

You roll your eyes but gasp as he bends down to lick the first few droplets from your skin, his tongue swirling over the flesh. He keeps his eyes trained on yours as he moves to the other leg, sucking up a drop from your inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark behind. His teeth graze the flesh and you whimper. “Blitzø…”

He straightens, and you wrap your fingers in the neckline of his tee shirt as he leans up on his toes to kiss you, his hands planted on the counter on either side of your thighs. He tastes of sleep and uncooked pancakes and somehow already the hint of maple syrup, his tongue sliding against yours messily.

You cup his face in your hands, smooth your thumb over his scar, smile as you feel his tail wind around your ankle. When he starts fumbling with the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss long enough to tug if off over your head, you say, “What happened to the whole ‘not cooking twice’ thing?”

“Reconsidered.” he tells you, kissing you again, and you feel something sticky drip onto your bare chest. The scent of maple syrup teases your senses. “Whore first. Breakfast later.”

You moan quietly as he slides his tongue over the swell of your breast before dipping down to suck the syrup from your nipple.

“Besides,” he tells you cockily, looking up at you from under his brows. “I can multitask.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[halfetirosie]

🐚 Important info from the [Mirage of Scales] PV! 🐚 (Reaction post)

1) This Oceanic Decor goes HARD!!!!! 😍

Fun fact about me; I often draw plants that are sorta remixed from how they are in reality. For example; a giant flower whose stem is actually made of tree bark (aka a literal flower-tree), a cactus with a huge rose instead of a typical cactus flower, plants sprouting feathers instead of leaves, etc.

So, a detail like coral in flowerpots is the type of whimsical shit I LIVE for, and it makes me really happy!

And that wall carving tho---it's so damn intricate! It gives me Mayan Calendar vibes!

2) Ooooo, interesting! I suspect Yakumo's intimacy rooms will have something to do with pearls this time?

Also, I couldn't quite figure out what those papers were at first, but judging by the top-left illustration of a spoon + the top-right illustration of a spoon mixing things in a bowl, I think it's a recipe!!!

Maybe we'll get to see some classic Yakumo-cooking action!

:D

3) FOX SPOTTED!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

For a second I thought that this was a hidden accurate-portrait of Fox Form Kuya, but then I realized that the white fur on its tail was on the wrong side. 😢

4) The lil' animations keep getting better and better! 😲

Yaku blowing a bubble towards us makes me feel some type of way...

Idk man, it's just SO FUCKIN ENDEARING....

MY HEART.....😭😭😭

5) 🚨🚨🚨PRETTY THIGH ALERT!!!🚨🚨🚨

6) Yakumo's hair really is GORGEOUS in this SSR...

(((Insert joke about my love of long-haired fantasy men)))

Nah but, aside from it's length---the way his two-tone hair is braided together is pretty as hell!!!

I feel like you can barely see the coral-red (lol how fitting for this event, CORAL red) part of his hair in its usual SR style, but this SSR shows it off especially well.

7) THE MILF ENERGY IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE...

😳😳😳

What can I say? Purple is my favorite color, and I've always been a sucker for fire-type Pokemon.

THIS BITCH IS TOO MESMERIZING...

It's not fair!

8) 😬 OH NO....

HE'S NOT GONNA BE EXTRA-TOXIC AGAIN, IS HE???

Come on, now... We just had an event where he was extra toxic. I REALLY don't want another one; at least, not this soon. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

And I don't say this because Kuya's hand is on Eiden's neck. Choking might not be my thing, but even if it happens in this intimacy room, I wouldn't find it upsetting.

It's because the combination of Kuya's hand on his neck + the voice line telling him "try not to die in such a banal manner" feels threatening to me, and that isn't very sexy. 😔

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1: you don't have to go home

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set after the finale (like a few hours later lol) but before the epilogue. Joel catches a moderate but not life-threatening illness that forces you to tackle a subject you'd rather avoid.

Warnings: established relationship, angst, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2, poor communication, p in v, illness, anxiety, avoidance of feelings, major life decisions

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you see Tommy’s smug face at dinner, you turn on the heel of your boot to leave.

“Where’re you going?” Ellie says, coming up behind you. “You eating outside?”

“Sure, yup, that’s it,” you say, clutching your tray with both hands.

“Cool! Joel, I’m going to eat outside too,” she calls over her shoulder.

You risk a glance to see Joel looking at the two of you, brows wrinkled. He shrugs, and Tommy shakes his head at you.

“Chicken,” he mouthes.

You flip him off and go find a patch of grass to picnic on.

Ellie talks while she eats, food occasionally spraying out of her rapid-fire mouth. You’re more than happy to sit quietly and listen, to hear about the other kids she’s met and the neat things she’s found in her new room.

Your fortune doesn’t last. Tommy comes out of the hall with his hands in his pockets, still smirking.

“Ellie, why don’t you go grab some dessert?” he says as he helps himself to a seat on the ground.

“No thanks,” she says, looking between you.

“It’s pie,” he says.

“No thanks,” she says again. She puts on a very unnerving fake smile made worse by her widened eyes.

“He’s trying to get you to leave—“ you start.

She interrupts. “I know. I wanna hear whatever it is.”

“He’s trying to get you to leave so he can ask me about grownup stuff.”

Her nose crinkles as she catches on. “Ugh,” she groans and hauls herself to her feet before going inside. She takes both of your empty trays with her, and you feel a little sting of pride, however misplaced.

“So,” Tommy grins. “Nothin’ between you ‘n my brother, huh?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “Shut up.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You look up, and the smugness is gone. “What all did he tell you?”

“Just that y’all had ‘some kinda situation’ back in Boston. And that you stayed over there last night.”

You snort and shake your head. “I guess ‘some kinda situation’ is about right. I didn’t want to tell you I was fuckin’ him for rent.”

His eyes widen. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And for food, before that. Didn’t want you to think I was a whore, I guess.” You’re sitting with your legs crossed, but it doesn’t stop your knee from bouncing as you look anywhere but Tommy.

“Hey, no,” he says, leaning forward. “Look, ain’t nothin’ wrong with surviving however you got to.”

You feel a wretched sting at the corner of your eyes. He was always so goddamn genuine, but it was still hard to accept his words at their value.

He scoots over and grabs your hand. “I mean it. I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

“That why you don’t wanna move into their place?”

“What?”

“I was gonna offer to help move your stuff, but Joel said you told Ellie you were stayin’ put.”

“Do you need me to? To make room for someone?”

“No! No, you can stay. I just figured you’d want the company. And well, Joel said—“

You wait, but he pretends to be distracted by a honey bee.

“Joel said what?”

“Just, he thought you would. Since y’all lived together before, and you talked about it.”

You snort. “We talked about it? Is that what he calls our conversation from this morning?”

“I dunno. It’s Joel. You think he gave me all the details?”

“Fair. Nah, I’d like to stay on my own. Not that anyone asked me to do anything different.”

It’s then that Maria wanders out with Alé, setting her down to explore. She screws up her little face, ready to rage about being placed on her tummy before she realizes she’s somewhere fun.

Joel and Ellie come out a few moments later to find the three of you watching Alé intently. She’s given up on trying to eat the grass after several unsuccessful attempts. Her little fist would open and close, only to find herself empty-handed when she brought it to her mouth.

Now, however, she’s returned to frustration and is attempting to roll herself onto her back.

It’s not going well, but you’re all watching and encouraging her.

Ellie squats to peer down at her. “You’re like a big potato,” she says.

Joel wipes a hand down his face. “Ellie,” he warns.

“What?”

“Is that any way to talk to your cousin?”

She looks up at him, startled. “Uhh. I don’t know. I’ve never had a cousin before.” She regards Alé again. “You’re a strong potato. You can do it.”

Alé responds with a loud yell as she pushes again and then falls quiet as she finds herself flat on her back looking up at Ellie.

Her little audience cheers and claps, unfortunately startling her. Maria and Tommy shower her in praise, and you stand up, stepping back by Joel.

“You comin’ back to ours?” he says, not looking at you.

“No, not tonight.” You need the space. You’ve grown accustomed to being alone, found peace in it even, and the last two days have been a new kind of exhausting.

But you see the way his lips twitch into a scowl before he schools his face back to neutral.

“Mind walking me home?” you offer.

The tension falls just a fraction from his shoulders. “Course not,” he says. “You gotta lead the way, though.”

Tommy shoots you a look you don’t know how to interpret when you say goodnight.

“Are you going to be gross? Do I need to stay out of the house?” Ellie says far too loudly.

“Nah, you’re safe,” Joel says, shaking his head.

It’s weird. You hold hands on the walk back. It’s a quiet intimacy you’d never even considered to share with him before.

The warmth of his palm and cradle of his fingers are undeniably nice.

It’s also undeniably awkward. You stand on your porch, stiffly holding hands like he hasn’t been inside you a hundred times over.

You look up at him and appreciate the way the sunset falls across his back.

He brings his free hand up to cup the back of your head and gives you maybe the chastest kiss you’ve ever had. Certainly more than you ever thought him capable of. It kind of hurts your feelings, actually.

“What the hell was that?”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You kissed me like I’m your grandma!”

He rolls his eyes to high heaven. “I was tryin’ to be respectful.”

“Gross. You know what? That was disrespectful. Kiss me proper, Miller.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, even though it results in the boner he was trying to avoid in the first place. He gets you pressed up against your front door with a handful of ass and your soft moans against his lips.

You break away when you hear a voice down the road and put your hand against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Guess I should get goin’,” he says. He doesn’t move, though.

You’re all too aware of the way his cock is straining against his jeans and you almost invite him in. How you manage to find the self-control not to, you’ll never know. But it feels important, somehow, that you sleep alone tonight.

“You wanna meet up for breakfast in the morning?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says. His hands rest on your hips as he steals one last kiss. “I’ll see ya then, sweetheart.”

You can’t seem to stomach the idea of watching him walk away, so you go inside.

He waits until he hears the deadbolt click before he heads for home.

Summer withers, and autumn sees you spending the night together a couple of times a week. Always you at theirs—you never ask him over to your place. It’s a silly line you’ve drawn, and even though you know you’re the one who put it there, you feel bitter on the cold nights alone.

Worse yet, you know you’re only doing it out of stubbornness. You made a big fucking deal out of it, and now you have to stick with it so it doesn’t look like you’re weak. Like you can’t be alone. Like you need him.

And also, no one has fucking asked you to do any differently, so. Whatever.

But it’s not like you don’t know that he wants to.

No, he hasn’t asked, but he may as well have. His clothes are kept to one side of the closet. There are three empty drawers in his dresser.

His books are crammed on the top half of the shelves in the living room, stacked askew in a way you knew had to drive him crazy. The fuck you quilt hangs over the back of the sofa, though it’s more often found wrapped around Ellie.

By the first snowfall, he keeps a toothbrush for you in the medicine cabinet beside his own. There’s a Joel-shaped indent in the left side of the mattress, betraying how the right stays vacant when you’re gone.

The list goes on. The coffee mug. The little tin of vaseline for your chapped lips on the nightstand. All the spaces where nothing sits, waiting.

But he doesn’t ask.

You haven’t seen Joel for two days. It’s weird. You’re not sure how to feel about it—you’re the one who wanted space, after all. But so far, you’ve at least met at the mess hall for a meal each day.

You’re walking home after working the breakfast shift on the third day when Ellie catches up with you. You’ve seen her around but haven’t wanted to ask after Joel, not wanting her to think you only talked to her for him.

She looks nervous, though. She’s fiddling with her sleeves and won’t look at you, so you come to a stop.

“What’s going on, kiddo?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Sure, that’s not suspicious or anything.” You’re trying not to be anxious, but her energy is rubbing off.

“Look, don’t get mad; I only agreed not to because it didn’t seem like a big deal, but now it seems like a big deal—”

“Are you in trouble? Is somebody making you uncomfortable?” A thousand bad scenarios have come to life in your mind, each increasingly ridiculous but horrifying. Maybe that’s why Joel’s missing. Maybe someone laid a hand on Ellie, and he killed them. You hope he did.

“What? No,” her scoff cuts through your panic. “Joel’s sick. He didn’t want you to come by and get sick, so he made me promise not to say anything. But he’s being stupid, and now he can barely walk to the bathroom without hacking up a lu—wait, where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? I’m going to give your idiot father a piece of my mind,” you growl.

She jogs to catch up with you, but her face is red, and she won’t look at you again.

Your brain catches up with your tongue, and you pause. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be weird—”

“It’s fine,” she says. “Let’s go. I wanna watch you yell at him.”

You don’t. Not right away, at least. He’s asleep when you get there, and honestly, it’s a little upsetting how unwell he looks. It kind of shakes the anger right out of you.

You promise Ellie you’ll wait for her to come home to yell at him.

The idea of climbing into bed with him is extremely tempting. Instead, you start to draw warm water for a bath and tidy up the things left behind in the wake of his deteriorating condition.

It’s not much. Even sick, Joel is relatively neat. Also, it’s pretty obvious that he’s been living in the same sweats and tee for the last three days. You make sure to set a clean outfit and warm socks on the bathroom counter.

With Ellie bringing dinner from the mess later, you don’t have much to do other than brew tea. The kettle’s on when you hear a groan from upstairs.

He’s heaved himself to sitting when you crack the door open.

“Ellie, I told you to stay out. I don’t want to get you sick.” His voice is crackling and raspy.

You push it open, scowling. “Well, you didn’t tell me shit, so.”

The glower is there immediately. “I’m tellin’ you now, then. Get out.”

“Nope. You lost that chance. Now you’re gonna suck it up and get taken care of.” You start stripping the sweaty sheets off his bed while he’s still sitting on it. “Go on and get in the bath.”

“I’m just gonna lay back down for a bit,” he mumbles.

You press the back of your hand against his forehead, followed by your lips. “You’re burning up. Get in the tub.”

But when you stand, his head follows, and you let him rest against your stomach for a minute, carding your hand through his damp hair.

“C’mon,” you urge, tugging at his hand. He lets you lead him into the bathroom, a marker of how sick he really must be.

The kettle hollers while he’s stripping down, and he’s settled once you return with the tea.

“I don’t want any shitty leaf water right now,” he grumps.

“Too bad! It has honey and lemon, and your throat’s seen better days.”

He accepts the cup, but he’s scowling.

“Y’know, you’re not very scary, butt ass naked in a tub with an owl on your mug,” you remark, sitting on the floor and leaning against the cabinet so you can see him.

“You shouldn’t be here. You’re going to get sick. Did Ellie squeal?”

“Joel, I haven’t seen you in three days. Did you think I wasn’t going to get worried?”

His scowl pouts. “I didn’t mean to worry ya.”

“Yeah, well, you did. So. Don’t do that again.” You purse your lips and look at your tea.

“Hey,” he says, water sloshing as he shifts to get a better look at you. “You don’t gotta do… all this,” he says, gesturing to the mug and the bedroom, where you’ve tucked clean sheets onto his mattress.

“I know.”

He’s loathe to admit it, but the bath did help. Worse yet, the tea helped. He feels a little more human in clean clothes, but you still refuse his help cleaning up.

When you’re done, however, you peel back the blanket and crawl into bed with him. So maybe it’s not all bad, he thinks.

At least, until Ellie gets home and you properly scold him.

He’s asleep more than he’s awake, so you stay. You toss and turn and check on him about a hundred times. If the fever would break, you’d feel better. Except no, you wouldn’t, because that cough that’s settled in his chest scares you far more than you’d like to admit.

You’re not privy to the medical stock in Jackson, but you have a bad feeling that an old man with pneumonia wouldn’t be high on the list for antibiotics.

Not that you think he’d accept them, anyway. He’d be too worried about using up something a kid might need. Or anyone else. He doesn’t seem to realize anyone would put him first.

You and Ellie just might let the town burn for him. (But when you think of Alé, you kind of get it.)

Anyway. When he’s awake, he’s groggy, but you manage to convince him to eat. Never much at once, so you make sure it’s soup or oatmeal. Something soft and packed with nutrients.

On the third day of your stay, he starts to come ‘round the mend. The fever breaks. He starts to stay awake for longer than a couple of hours.

You set him up with what you can and return to your life, but you can’t make yourself go home at night. It’s just because of the damn cough, you tell yourself. You just need to keep an eye on it.

A couple of nights later, he’s awake when you peel the covers back and slide in behind him, arm curling around his waist. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck, nestling in as he rewards you with a contented hum. He lets you hold him for a minute, basking in the embrace before he rolls onto his back.

You’re clinging to him a little too tight.

“Rough patrol?” He says.

You shake your head where it’s buried in his tee. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”

“Don’t like you havin’ to handle anything,” he grumbles. He knows, both because he’s been told repeatedly and because he’s seen you handle the weapon, that you can protect yourself now.

It doesn’t mean he likes it.

“I was with Tommy. We were fine.” You yawn. It has to be past two now, what with shift change come midnight and then all the cleanup after.

He slips his arm under you so he can tug you closer, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. You press a kiss in the thicket of hair at the center of his chest, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to this. He hopes not—he doesn’t ever want to take it for granted.

You yawn again, eyes watering, but your exhaustion is betrayed by the way your hips press against his thigh.

“What do you need, darlin’? Want me to lick your pussy until you fall asleep?”

“Can I ride you?” you counteroffer.

He groans, cock twitching to attention. “Of course, pretty girl.”

He helps you straddle him and reaches to peel the old t-shirt off your body so he can admire your tits in the moonlight. And the way your face goes soft when you see how he’s looking at you.

You waste no time, shifting around until you’ve got his cock in your hand and are settling atop it. You moan in tandem as he spreads you, the broad tip of him easily pressing through the slick.

“Needy tonight, huh? What’s got you all worked up?” he teases.

“Just you,” you say through a gasp as you grind down all the way.

He reaches up, maybe for your breasts, but you don’t find out. Instead, you intercept them and entwine your fingers.

He gets the idea and holds firm, ever your unwavering foundation. You use his support to gyrate, hips grinding as your thighs push around his to slide up and down on his cock.

Your palms are sweaty, but his grip is tight and desperate. His head tilts back, exposing the long column of his neck.

“Fuck,” you whimper as you get the angle just right. It makes you jerk a little, bumping that sweet spot again. He grunts, teeth gritted as you clamp down around him. When he looks back up at you, he’s positively ravenous.

“No,” you say before he opens his mouth with some bullshit.

“C’mon,” he whines.

“You’re still sick. I’m not lettin’ you cough up a lung. You’re gonna lay there and take what I give ya.”

His eyes narrow at the over the top Texan accent you saved for the last bit. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“You think I’m funny. You love all my jokes.”

“Damned if I don’t,” he grumbles, but it’s betrayed by the look in his eyes. “You, too, y’know.”

You almost freeze up but decide to play obtuse. “You’re right; I do love all my jokes.”

He opens his mouth again, so you change pace a little to throw him off.

It works.

Whatever he was about to say, which you know damn well but aren’t prepared to handle right now, comes out as a broken moan.

In the end, it slips out of you a few days later. It’s not triggered by anything; he doesn’t do anything charming, there’s no intense moment of intimacy or heroism that inspires it.

You don’t mean to say it, but you do mean it.

You’re sitting side by side on his porch, steaming mugs of tea in hand. The pale winter sun has barely broken the horizon, but you had still agreed to come out in the cold with him. Agreed it might be good for him to get some fresh air.

The fuck you quilt is draped over both your shoulders. Joel had grabbed it on the way out the door while you balanced the tea and put your boots on. It cocoons you, but there’s still a little space between you, knees knocking together but bodies apart.

You watch his breath curl out into the dawn, and it just happens.

“I love you, Joel,” you say. It’s quiet, softer than the creak of the swing. It takes you by surprise, as your tongue so often does, but you don’t try to reel it back or brace for disaster.

You don’t need to. You know.

But he freezes. Pauses.

He didn’t know, you realize, he wasn’t sure. All this time, he wasn’t saying it but still making sure you knew.

But you haven’t done the same for him.

He didn’t know.

He wraps his free arm around your shoulder and tucks you into him, chin resting on your head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The peace lasts for about a minute.

“Now will you stop being so goddamn stubborn and move in?”

*title from "Closing Time" by Semisonic

[joelsbeard]

Okay part 2 😈 to this ask! @joelsfavoritegirl

Okay we've already read how the two of you get butterfliesss when you guys are first crushing on each other, but i feel like even throughout your relationship things always manage to stay fresh and you both keep surprising each other, so basically your relationship never really loses its spark

Therefore you both still get butterflies about one another even years after getting together

Before your relationship started and also at the beginning of it, sometimes joel would get so nervous around you hehe and his palms would always get clammy 😭 poor joel lol

You know damn well in your talking stage and also right after you get together, joel is for sure tellin his homeboys all about you 😭 (in a respectful way of course, he's not going to embarrass you or anything)

He is down BAD for you, tommy (lol fuckin tommy) and all his friends never let him forget

He always gets warm fuzzy feelings around you because you are so sweet and kind and caring and he always asks himself how he managed to get with a girl like you 🥺

When you first started dating, this man was definitely gigglin and swingin his feet whenever you would respond to his texts HAHAHAH

This man would do ANYTHING for you, and he always goes the extra mile to make you feel special, I'm talking giving you spa nights (so sweet! I guess its only fair since you pamper him too with those little facials hehe), taking you on dates, cooking for you (simple foods), and being extra sweet to you on your period 🥺 getting you all your cravings and putting up with your mood swings (good practice for when he gets you pregnant with his babiesss 😈)

He ALWAYS brings you flowers!!! Joel Miller is a fucking romantic and I will die on that hill fr. Everytime i read in a fic where he brings you flowers i'm like that is so fucking joel miller coded. Even if it's not an elaborate bouquet (those are way to expensive anyways) he'll come home with a bouquet of daisies, carnations, hydrangeas, roses ofc hehe, baby's breath, lavender, you name it. He seems like a simple guy (in a good way, also aren't a lot of guys lol) so you don't need the fancy ones (maybe he gives you those on anniversaries or special events) but just the thought is always so sweet ❤️

Sometimes he'll make the bouquets himself 🥺 he'll get 2-3 varieties from the grocery store and learns to cut and arrange and wrap them himself 🥺 and those are your favorites. You always make sure to give him head every time he does lol he deserves it 🙈

Your natural scent, the smell of your perfumes, soaps, shampoos, detergents, and lotions all bring him to his goddamn knees!!! He be gettin horny fr when you walk by him and he gets a whiff of you LMAOO.

You guys tell each other EVERYTHING and it doesn't take long once you start dating to become very close, and you're very comfortable with basically anything with each other.

I heard of this thing where if you and your partner feel very comfortable, safe, and secure around each other, you tend to feel sleepy and relaxed when you're in each other's presence, and especially bc joel works a hard ass job, i feel like he loves coming home to you and just melting and laying on you and he can feel the tension and stress just leave his body as soon as he walks in the door.

Now bc I want to minimize my pookie's suffering lol, I imagine that bc in this AU he's not a single dad, you both work so for a while you have dual income, and once sarah comes you take a break but eventually do a part time job or something just to help out with expenses so joelie doesn't have to work so hard 🥺

This is such a cute headcanon, but basically whenever he's having an especially hard day he'll look at his phone lockscreen of you two to remind him what's waiting for him at home ❤️ he also reads and keeps all of the notes you leave in his lunch boxes lol

Joel Miller is a DEVOTED and WHIPPED ass man for his girl, he worships the ground you walk on especially once you have his babies hehe 🙈 he's like thats MY GIRL, my BABY MAMA, the MOTHER OF MY CHILDREN, the LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND REASON FOR BEING!!!

Everybody wishes they had a joel miller smh, people look at you guys and they're like 🥺 "wish i had a partner as devoted as he/she is" bc you are equally as whipped for this fine ass man and you cannot WAIT to have his babies

^ biological instincts going brrrr fr when you see that man, you can feel your ovaries crying

And he wants to put his babies in you so bad!!!

Even the sound of your voice gets him fuckin horny, he'll pick you up from work or school sometimes (maybe you plan on getting your associates degree) and he'll catch you talking to a coworker or a classmate and he looks at you like 😍 he's just SO in love you with and you look like an angel to him. He's the type of guy to be looking at you when you say "isn't the view so beautiful" and he's like "yes it is" and you turn and see him looking at you like 😍 and it makes you want to cry

Just like the feeling you get when he calls you "sweet girl", he fr be getting butterflies in his stomach and bootyhole LMAO when you call him "sweet man" 🥺 especially when you hold his face in your hands or stroke his beard when you say it

Your body drives him nuts too ;) he can't get enough of you, yes he's always grabbing/smacking your ass or squeezing your tiddies lol...men

Whenever he talks about you to other people they can see him just LIGHT UP, and he almost is glowing whenever he even thinks of you, or when people bring you up to him :) Like think Peeta Mellark (my first ever fictional love lol Peeta the man that you are!!! 😩 other boys wish they were you!!!) obsessed and in love with you

Jesus christ why do i always get carried away with these lol I CAN'T HELP IT JOEL MILLER IS JUST TOO HOT

[easybrainrot34]

Hot takes Haikyuu characters would have

These r silly ones that arnt too deep. I just think these r some "hot takes" these boys would have that would turn into hour long convos.

"If people diet shame you, like if u eat meat or r a vegetarian, r the biggest assholes. If I see one of u in the wild I'm going to throw baby carrots at you!!Let people eat what they wanna fuck wad!"

- Bokuto, Karoo, Daichi (this man will go into the "what do u want for people to do have an eating issuer??!!" part of it) Yamaguchi, Tendou, Tanaka (hello gym owner, personal trainer, man would go HARD)

"Y does anyone care about body count? Like y would it matter how many people someone has slept with before you?? It gets concerning only if it's like 15 20+ in a month bc.. like r u ok? Or like STD reasons but like ur an adult chances r uve has sex with more then one person. ALSO if ur keeping count of the number of people u've slept with and it's more then 10 y r u keeping count....that is such a frat boy hoe move"

- Ushijima, Akaashi, Tsukishima, Tanaka, Kuroo, Kiyoko, Saeko, kageyama, Meian, Atsumu (haikyuus resident fanon slut) Suna

“Why can't woman have hobbies without getting shit for it? Like if she likes sports she's a pick me, if she likes kpop she's weird, if she likes gaming she's just doing it for guys but if it's sims or animal crossing she's a fake gamer, matter of fact y can't they like certain artist without men quizzing them like they gotta know every fuckin detail about them?! Y do we as men think we gotta only have stuff and anyone else who likes it is fake??"

- Kenma, Suna, Tanaka (hes for the girls 💅🏻) Henita (protective older brother mode) Akaashi, Kiyoko, Yachi, Saeko (this will turn into a 45 min rant)

“Rich out of touch people need to stay in their own lane. Don’t try to act like ur “just a regular average Joe.” Their is nothing wrong with being famous or rich but it isn’t a relatable for an average middle class person and it just comes off as fake or patronizing.” 

- Kenma (I feel like bc he is an influencer he has this opinion strongly) Kuroo, Meian, Atsumu, Osamu, Tanaka (again bc I feel like he gets his fair share of athletes) Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Hinata (i feel like he doesn’t take any of the success he has for granted) 

“A man recognizing that another man is handsome shouldn’t be automatically considered them to possibly be gay. Why is it that if a man is comfortable in their sexuality it is seen as something praisable? Like if a woman do it it’s normal but if a man does it everyone is assuming they r gay. Like no we can be comfortable enough in our sexuality to be able to show this. Like it’s seen as not masculine and that is just silly. I can’t show emotion beside happiness or rage without being considered “feminine” ?? How dumb.”

- Atsumu, Bokuto, Kuroo, (i feel like both get passionate about this, because people questioned their sexuality/relationship in high school)  yamaguchi, Hinata, Nishinoya, Asahi, Kenma

Let me know if I should do a part 2 bc I could keep going but I literally almost ran out of hashtag room lol 

[alphabetboyluvr]

A time before DB and JK meet officially where they crossed paths but don't remember or almost but missed each other by seconds. You know, typical kdrama missed meet cutes lol.

🪩 WORDCOUNT | 2.4k 🪩 NOTE FROM HOLLY | so... that thing about me and finding it impossible to write anything short.... yeah that. lmao. this is bd lore in the BEST possible way imo. something that neither of them remember and likely never will. this is set about four years before the events of BD. JK would have been 20-21, and B would have been 21-22 (give or take a year). thank you SO much for this request. i had so much fun with it!!

🪩 BD DRABBLES MASTERPOST 🪩

Jeon Jungkook looks devastatingly pretty with cherry-red lips. Smudged and a little faded, they leave the faintest mark on the end of his cigarette—a bad habit, he knows, but one that he picked up as an excuse to flirt with a girl whose lips are far more crimson than his. 

Of course they are, though. How else would she stain him in evidence of her existence if they weren’t? 

Even when he’s tarnished in her, there’s no evidence of him on her. Nothing to tell new acquaintances to stay away—and Hayun loves making new friends.

A bottle of Jack rests by his feet. Neat. A little lukewarm. Ass perched on the curb outside a house just off campus, he’s in no mood to get himself embroiled in the debauchery he knows his friends are partaking in. Just wants to clear his head. 

Foolishly hopes she’ll do the same. That she’ll notice his absence. That her heart will ache like his currently is. 

In their final year of studies, his friends are all letting loose for the final time before they have to cram for finals. It’s a night of celebration. Of last-chances. Of opportunities that won't present themselves again for a good few lunar orbits.

And so while he may not have the same restrictions, having started his studies a little later than scheduled, he’s been making the most of it with them. 

Quiet kisses hidden from his friends are fun. He likes them. Loves them, even.

But to then watch her very publicly let a guy make moves on her? To make moves back?

Feels fuckin’ awful.

“Oh, you know what?” A voice echoes from the porch of the house behind him. “You can take her violin and shove it up your ass, you ostentatious, pseudo-intellectual prick.” 

It’s a little twisted, but it brings Jungkook comfort to know he isn’t the only one with a shitty excuse for a love life. Knows he shouldn’t listen in—but fuck it.

“Where does she keep her violin, huh? In your trousers? ‘Cause that’s the only way that what I just saw and what you’re saying could even possibly correlate,” the girl continues, unrelenting in the way she dictates her speech. Barely lets her partner get a word in edge-ways. “No? She not a tiny violin specialist? The rooms aren’t that dark, dickhead.” 

He thinks the tirade is over, but finds himself laughing when he hears, “And not to brag, but my last eye exam went exceptionally well, so don’t you dare try and tell me I was seeing shit. Twenty-twenty vision, baby.”

It’s easy to tell whoever is speaking is deliberating adding a little dramatic flare to their words. Is definitely drunk. Is also definitely not afraid of standing her ground.

Glancing over his shoulder as he stubs out his cigarette, he’s surprised to see the girl—you—on the phone instead of confronting someone in person.

In a pretty little party dress, you’re just the right combination of hot mess. Even from a fair distance away, he can notice the glitter all over your skin. Not really his type—so different from Hayun—but there’s something about you. Something that intrigues him. Makes it hard to look away.

“She could be fuckin’ Vivaldi for all I care!” You seethe into your phone. “Does it sound like I give a shit if she’s the best in her class? You want me to give her a gold medal or something? Don’t piss me off. Prick.”

Jungkook would argue that you’re already pissed off. With a tone of voice like that, you must be.

There’s a final curse, and then your phone is almost thrown across the front lawn. Almost. You know better. Know that you can’t afford to replace the screen if you shatter it. Instead, you have to grit your teeth and scream. 

It’s only once you finish your venting of frustration that you notice a pair of starry eyes on you. 

Raising your brows, you shake your head in his direction. “Can I help?”

And then he fucking laughs. Shrugs. Is pleased to see it makes you smile, too. 

“Really hate violin, don’t you?”

Shaking your head, far kinder this time, you sigh. “Don’t have much of an opinion on them. Not unless it’s the strings in the intro of Untouched by The Veronicas. In that case, the violin is the greatest instrument known to man.”

“Untouched? The Veronicas?” he laughs, suddenly reminded of a song he hasn’t heard in years. “Didn’t realise it was still 2005.”

“Hey, don’t be judgy,” you say as you walk towards him, perching down on the curbside, too. “It’s a classic.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” he defends, reaching down for his bottle of Jack and offering it over to you. “Boyfriend trouble?”

Shaking your head, you decide that unloading your problems onto a stranger is exactly what this night calls for. 

“Girl I’ve been seeing. Wasn’t that serious.” Nodding towards the bottle you add, “You first.”

“Seemed pretty serious,” he mumbles, before swigging down his whiskey. Jack is shit, in his opinion, but it’s cheap and it gets the job done. Clearing his throat with a small ‘ah’, he holds it back over for you to take. “Satisfied?”

You don’t vocalise a response—but you do take the bottle from him and ignore the burn as it races down your throat. Of everything you’d choose to drink, Jack Daniels would not be it. You like fruity things. Had been on vodka cranberry juice all night.

“Wasn’t serious," you double down, then shrug. "Can’t let people think they can get away with bad behaviour, though. Let them do it once, and they’ll do it again and again." 

It’s something you’re adamant about. Something you’ll do well to remember. 

“Anyway, you know why I’m out here like a miserable bitch,” you continue as you pass the bottle back. “What brings you here?”

“Something similar.”

It’s only now that you really take him in for all that he is. 

Same age as you, you think, judging by his build. Though his shoulders are broad, he hasn’t properly filled out yet—he’s trying, though. You can see the definition in his arms. His shoulders. Clearly is trying to shape himself into a man. No longer a teenager, but not really an adult. With eyes like that, though, he’ll always look a little younger than he is. His dark hair waves around his features, so casually undone you know he must have put a lot of effort into it. It’s sweet. 

He tries, and that’s more than can be said for most of the boys at the party.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you tell him.

“Hm?”

“The red lipstick,” you nod towards the sheen on his lips. There’s a little on his neck, too. His T-shirt is black, but you imagine there’s some there, as well. “You’d look better without it.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Guessed as much,” you softly smile. “So what, then? Your girlie pissed all over her territory? So no one else would approach you? Then decided she wanted to play elsewhere?”

“Something like that.”

“Girlfriend?”

Jungkook just shrugs. Tells the truth, even if it feels like a lie. “Just friends.”

“You kiss all your friends?”

“Just one.”

“Ouch,” you wince. Friends-with-benefits situations are dumb, you think. Wouldn’t ever wanna end up in one. Know they end in unbearable heartbreak. “That’s rough.”

He nods. Knows how it’ll end, too, even if he’s been trying to tell himself otherwise.

“Well, we’re friends, now,” you declare, definitely too drunk to be making good decisions. “You and me. Have bonded over terrible people doing terrible things.”

He wants to tell you that Hayun isn’t terrible.

Instead, he raises a brow at your fledgling—and fleeting—friendship. 

“If she’s off making new friends, then maybe you should consider kissing your other friends,” you playfully shrug, knowing better than to get involved in a situation like this. “Y’know… make it even.”

And Jungkook is well aware he shouldn’t indulge in your flirt, but he’s hurting. Wants to feel wanted—and the way you’re looking at him? He can’t remember the last time Hayun looked at him like that.

The way you see it, you’ll never see this man again. You could both do with a little pick-me-up. Confirmation that life goes on, even if the people you date are awful.

A kiss is just a kiss. 

Or at least, for now, it is. One day, you’ll develop a complex. Blame Seokjin.

But you’re yet to meet him. Yet to unlearn all your rules and make far feebler, more pathetic ones in their place.

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute,” you whisper, edging closer ever so slightly. 

“Kinda?” He tweaks a brow, eyes not on yours, but on your lips. There’s a little glitter in your gloss. Think maybe it’ll suit him better.

“Mhmm,” you hum, reaching up to lightly trace your thumb across his bottom lip, ridding him of a little bit of his very own red flag. “Kinda. Never kissed a guy with a lip piercing.”

Just a stud, he’s only had it a little while. Was trying to make himself look a little older. Sharper. Light from the house catches in it as your thumb pulls back - but Jungkook pulls closer. Nudges his nose against yours. Holds it there for a second.

“Maybe I should take one for the team,” he husks, lips brushing yours. “Just so you know what it’s like.”

Nodding, you let your nose stroke against his. “You’d be such a good friend if you did.”

Lips parted, the end of your sentence grants him permission to sink his lips between yours. Slow as he does so, Jungkook’s scared of fucking it up.

Hasn’t kissed anyone that isn’t Hayun for months, now. Isn’t even sure he knows how to.

And yet as soon as you press down into the kiss, his mind is void of her. Totally blank. Pitch black, until the faintest of stars begin to appear. Sparkle. Shine.

There’s a sweetness to you, even despite the whiskey. Maybe it’s the cranberry juice. Maybe it’s your lip gloss. Jungkook doesn’t have the mental capacity to decipher it, for he can feel your tongue stroking across his bottom lip—and then he’s granting permission. Inviting you into his mouth. Stroking his tongue against yours, as if he’s in the privacy of the party bathroom—not out front for everyone to see. 

Shamelessly, he almost wants Hayun to see—but as quickly as a thought of her intrudes, it’s replaced by the way you feel. It makes him pull you closer. Gets him whining into your mouth. Makes you smile.

It’s confirmation that there’s nothing wrong with you; that the girl you were seeing really was just a dickhead.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you slowly push him away. Are reluctant to finish kissing him. In fact, even as you push him back, your body follows, until you force yourself to pull back. 

“There,” you smile, a little infatuated with how sparkly his eyes appear. “Now you’re even.”

“We can make it odd, again, if you want,” Jungkook offers, far bolder than even he realises. Just doesn’t wanna stop kissing you. Maybe it’s just the whiskey. Yeah. He’ll blame it on that. 

“That’s a bad decision waiting to happen,” you laugh, getting to your feet, because you don’t trust yourself to stay. “My purpose is served. Friends don’t fuck you over. Stop wasting your kisses on people who are gonna fuck you over.”

Your message is clear: she’s not your friend. 

It’s a lesson he’ll learn far too late in life.

“But you’re ditching me?” He says as you begin to walk away. “That’s not friendly!”

For a girl who should really be wallowing in self-pity, you’re surprisingly chirpy. Jungkook envies it. Wishes he could stop caring in the way that he does —he just doesn’t realise your situationship really was as simple as they’re supposed to be. The feelings were yet to fully develop.

If love is a choice—which you think, to a degree, it is—then before it can develop, choices have to be made. Your partner is supposed to choose you. The girl you’d been seeing has just demonstrated that she wouldn’t choose you, and so why should you choose her?

Life was simpler before Seokjin; before you really knew what it was to love. 

Or, to love, and to not be chosen. 

To choose, even when you’re never chosen.

Sort of like how Jungkook is, now.

“I’m doing you a favour!” You call back, tipsy smile just as radiant as you seem to be. You're jovial in your tone, and the attitude rubs off on him. Gets him smiling, too. “Saving you from yourself. If I kiss you again, you’ll fall in love, baby. They always do!”

The way you jet off is spritely. Happy. Abundantly clear that you’re yet to know what heartbreak really feels like. 

The girl getting a little too friendly with the star violinist will be long forgotten by the time you meet Jungkook once again, and so will he. In fact, the scar left by Seokjin manages to mangle just about all of your romantic memories prior to him. 

You’ll become folklore; a girl Jungkook doesn’t know the name of, but who Hayun is pretty sure is legally named ‘Desperate Skank’. Someone they argue about on a few too many occasions. A memory he barely remembers, but in the heat of their drunken fight later that evening became a permanent sticking spot in their situationship. 

‘Cause while Hayun was off making friends, that’s all she was doing. Getting numbers. Getting a little touchy-feely. Getting her ego stroked. Getting zero kisses, because she had been reserving them for him.

Why she was only making friends with six-foot-something muscle pigs with more protein powder in their system than common sense is another thing they’ll argue about—but he’s the one in the wrong this time, or so she makes sure to tell him.

He’ll think of you sometimes. The memory will be hazy. Blurry, like driving down a midnight highway with astigmatism. 

He’ll think of you, and he’ll see stars.

And when he sees you again in the dark of Dionysus a few years later, with no recollection of who you are, his brain will scream at him. Beg him to remember. 

He won’t.

But he will, inevitably, see stars once more.

[toomuchracket]

matty and finger sucking does something to me im serious

MOOD also these other asks are on the same wavelength as you anon! No thoughts just Matty shutting me up by shoving his fingers in my mouth because I’ve been a brat ❤️ and Soft dom matty 4EVA. it’s a lifestyle

and like fair enough you have a little oral fixation so really during any sort of sexy moment you'll happily take matty's fingers in your mouth - also quite good for foreplay before you suck his dick, if you mimic a blowjob on them (this is my number one hoe tip, actually, for those of you trying to get with someone who has a cock). but i think your ultimate favourite fingersucking scenario is, as the second aforementioned ask said, matty using his fingers as a means of stopping you being a bit of a brat. i personally don't see matty being, like, DOM dom (if you do, that's cool though!) - i think he's very much soft/pleasure dom vibes - and therefore not particularly strict with you, but there are times when you definitely get a bit too frequent with the asking him to fuck you when he's busy or you backchat; fingersucking means you can't talk, so it puts an end to you being bratty immediately. plus, you love it, so is it really a punishment? no!

let's say you're at home one evening, and you're very much in the mood, but matty's watching some fuckin patreon stream thing about like whatever he's hyperfixating on aesthetically in that moment. and he's told you it's live so he has to watch it now, and you honestly appreciate that, but he just looks so GOOD all messy and shirtless on the sofa that you're sitting next to him clenching your thighs and breathing heavily. and you ask him at one point if he couldn't just, like, get it on catchup at some point and fuck you instead, and matty gets a bit stern but still sweet like "no, darlin', i'm watching it now and THEN i'll fuck you. ok?" and you're like yeah ok. but then you have to sit and watch him look so intently and smile genuinely (sidenote if you can get the full episode of the band on jools holland last year, there's a moment during another act's performance where it cut to matty smiling like this and i honest to god cried) at the screen and you're like god he's so !!!! i need him right now. so you ask again and he's like "sweetheart, stop asking." and you're like ugh fine, and then you do it one more time and he just snaps, like "thought i'd told you to stop fucking asking, yeah? well, if you're incapable of that, i'll just need to shut you up myself. suck" and taps your lips so he can slide his middle and index fingers into your mouth. and you're like fuck yeah and you do as you're asked, matty humming contentedly (and getting hard) as you do. and then when the stream ends, matty turns to you and says "so you CAN listen. good girl" and you swirl your tongue around his fingers as a thank you, before he pulls them out of your mouth and kisses you deeply. and then i think he'd be like "right. shorts and underwear off - it's time for your reward for being good", so you get undressed, and matty uses the fingers that were just in your mouth to get you off, while he kisses your neck and praises you directly in your ear. and THEN he fucks you like you wanted him to all along, lol <3

[legacyshenanigans]

Lemme tell you the story of the AI brigade.

Once upon a time, an AI app created an image, because that's obviously what it does, and it creates said images by looking into hundreds of thousands of other images online, but stays in keeping with what you want.

And one time, an image was created and someone realised it was very similar to the style of an artists work. And they said "Hey, this AI image stole from this artist!"

Ever since then, people have not liked AI.

As I said, AI created images make up its pictures from the MILLIONS of images uploaded to the Internet, not necessarily small time artists art work uploaded to the likes of tumblr, but EVERYTHING.

Artists also get mad at AI due to the fact they work hard on their creations, and AI is a cop out for art creation. Which is true to be fair, I dont disagree with that.

I also think it's WRONG to use AI and PROFIT from it, like generating AI images and selling them, However if someone is using it for fun, (especially to create their OWN self image, or their OC's) and NOT profiting from it, in any way, shape or form, I dont get why people gotta cry about it. Honestly.

Another harsh but vital point I wanna make is, you can cry, you can comment, you can scream that you hate AI..But it's futile, and pointless, you are chosing to be annoyed at something you will never EVER have control over 🤷🏻‍♀️

Do you think commenting on an AI pic saying "Fuck AI!" Is gonna make the poster think "Oh shit, you right" and delete it? Lol, no, and you'd be fuckin silly for thinking otherwise.

[goatsincrediblysillymusiccorner]

Late Night Ramble About Long Ass Songs

I think it's fair to say songs have to earn their length. At the very least, that's how I feel. If a song is 15+ minutes long, it'll likely live and/or die by its intrigue alone. If a song is 45 seconds, it better make each and every one of those seconds count.

I think a phenomenal example of a short song is Vildhjarta's "Måsstadens Nationalsång", coming in at an incredibly brief 47 seconds. This track is punchy as hell, and it only gets more satisfying the longer you listen. It presents itself in its entirety; completely identifiable and unique from the rest of the album, then it effortlessly transitions into the next song like it's nothing. It's genuinely great.

But on the other end of the spectrum, you have songs that will likely absolutely dwarf the others in your playlist with their sheer size. It can be a bit intimidating when you go to check out a new album you've never heard and all of the tracks are upwards of 10 minutes. That is a lot of time to dedicate to the same artist—especially if you have other things you want to do with your time. But, man, the musicians that pull it off really hit it out of the park for me.

I fuckin' love long songs. For me, they're some of the most replayable tracks in any given artist's discography. Obviously, that's just personal taste. It doesn't necessarily mean that I inherently prefer one style over the other, but I do find myself gravitating towards a lot of bands who, indeed, do this.

If I had to summarize what was so appealing about it to me personally, I would say listening to a long track is akin to reading an engaging story. They share a lot more in common than you might think: consistent theming, a lot of them actively tell a story of some kind (especially if it's a concept album LOL), the contrasting usage of high points juxtaposed against dulcet lows, they typically feature a climax somewhere ... it all kind of fits into a similar shape. Told through a completely different medium, sure, but the appeal is identical to me at least.

Take Opeth's titular "Blackwater Park". This track comes in at 12 minutes, 8 seconds.

The entire song is a perfect blend of everything that makes the album so phenomenal. The first two minutes are spent building expectation. Those deep, tridgy guitar riffs completely immerse you inside this garden-esque soundscape of pure atmosphere and progressive death metal beauty. When the growls are finally added to the mix the sound becomes full and complete; but it's shortlived as we're soon thrown backwards into another heavenly verse, devoid now of both vocals and distortion. It's different, but you know it's still Opeth. After this abrupt switch-up, you're constantly left on edge, wondering what could be next. Every little decision has a payoff. I genuinely think this song is one of the finest masterpieces in death metal history. And I think without all of this room to breathe, it likely wouldn't have been.

Another one I instantly think of when it comes to long songs is Periphery's "Reptile". It's quite the monster of a track, boasting an impressive 16 minutes and 43 seconds.

Honestly, I've listened to this song hundreds of times and it still flies by like an instant. I don't even feel time pass when I'm listening to it. This is one of those songs where, if someone asks where to start with Periphery, I recommend it immediately. It showcases virtually everything that makes their music appealing to me. When it wants to hit hard, it hits hard. When it wants to build atmosphere, you better believe it's going to have the best payoff it physically could have had. Spencer's screams and powerful cleans are showcased in crystalline clarity, as are Misha's incredible compositional abilities and absolutely absurd technicality. Matt's drumming is the icing on the cake; matching the mood and tone of any musical scene it needs to. I could go on and on. It's a nearly 17-minute-long flex of a song where every moment is just as exciting as the last.

But that's my ramble over. I've recently been listening to this band called "Haken", and wouldn't you know, the song that got me initially interested in their stuff was long as fuck. And it was awesome. You should check it out.

[repldemiurge]

I went to a few concerts this summer season (though not nearly as many as my partner) and I never take pictures at them, but today since it was an outdoor lawn venue I found it easier and got a pic of each band

Unearth was fine. Generally the highest praise I can give a -core band unless they later go on to have a more interesting career (a la BTBAM or TDEP) I think them being slightly older than most bands in that scene helps a lot? It gave them more of just a melodic thrash vibe that they then still botched with knuckle-dragging breakdowns, in case you forgot they were a metalcore band and started to enjoy them. And yet, I might try a couple albums

Then Kerry King came on. Who the fuck cares.

(Forming your own shitass slayer wannabe band when slayer reformed without you after 5 years because you're too much of a fucking tool is. Sad.)

The only track the crowd got into was Raining Blood. Lol.

Mastodon did all of Leviathan, and like. It's Leviathan it's good what do you want. Honestly, the biggest downside to this was that they played Blood and Thunder to open the night, when by rights that is a made-to-be-an-encore song. Instead we got More Than I Could Chew and Steambreather. Idk I just. Still hate those last two albums. They teased that a new record will be out 2025 and my God I hope they decide to quit it with the fucking hard rock crap.

Then Brann came out after and told a very cute story about the first time he saw Leviathan on sale at best buy, good fodder for a 20th anniversary show like this.

OH they also played Circle of Cysquatch and had a tokusatsu. This thing was pretty cool.

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Then Lamb of God closed doing all of Ashes of the Wake. I had really only heard Redneck, Laid to Rest, and Grace by these guys, on account of the rock I live under. (And Grace only because of the girl who did a hurdy gurdy cover of it. And that's the track I like the most!)

I. Get why they occupy the position that they do. Solid blend of existing hardcore and metal styles while never adventuring into anything *too* experimental or niche. Really solid technique and fantastic stage presence from their front man. Kinda sad I didn't see them before Chris Adler left? I've had respect for him as a drummer for a long time. Overall, good album and solid live performance. I think I liked the first half a fair bit more than the back half, but the instrumental title track near the end was a standout. Did a little bit of moshing during Redneck because I wanted to have a *little* fun tonight, and I knew people would go apeshit for it. Uh, moshing on an angled lawn in the dark is a, *different* fuckin experience than on a venue floor lol. Only stayed for like half the song I guess.

Then I ate a hot dog and chili. Good night.

Anyways what's up with all these tours of bands playing entire albums now? I feel like this wasn't a thing 10 years ago. Maybe it's just that we're hitting a lot of anniversaries for 00s prog-metal boom albums and they want to show their Concept Vision in Full, but I feel like I'm seeing non-progressive bands (Lamb of God???) do it as well, so.

It's not even a bad trend per se, it's just one that feels kinda weird to me. I'm not the world's biggest showgoer though, maybe this has been a thing for a long time and I just never picked up on it.

I should listen to Slaughtersun by Dawn again (Good Black Metal bands do north American tours and stop in Detroit 2025 pleaseeeeeeee)