#off the hook music posters

[sayacas]

the first version of this one was completely different - and so much worse lol! fortunately, I found some really good inspiration and now I love how it came out (6/10)

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Eight - Wine drunk

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Warnings: Daniels terrible ex, alcohol consumption, drunkenness

Series Masterlist

"Danny, we can't," Y/N said as she passed the wine bottle back to him. "I have work tomorrow and I have to get Milo to daycare," she said and leaned against the counter.

Daniel gave her another look. "You don't let loose enough, do you?" He asked as he put the wine down on the counter top. Y/N shook her head and Daniel grabbed the corkscrew from the drawer. "Well, for once, take the night off. Milo and Olivia can have a sleepover and I can drop you off at work tomorrow," he offered.

Y/N thought about it. She seriously thought about it. She and Milo had no clothes for the next day. "I have a condition," she said as she tapped her nails against the counter top. Daniel looked at her to continue. "We wake up early and go and get clothes for Milo and I."

"Deal," Daniel said and held out his hand.

As soon as Y/N shook it he pulled out his phone and set an alarm. He then handed her the wine and the opener, and went to grab two deep wine glasses.

Y/N worked on opening the wine as Daniel placed the glasses down in front of her. She filled them only half way, and handed one to Daniel. "Cheers," she said and tapped her glass against his.

They took one sip before Y/N put her glass down. "We should probably let the kids know that they're having a sleepover," she said, watching as Danny placed his own glass down.

He grinned at her and led her out of the kitchen. He took her through the halls, leading her to the living room. Milo and Olivia were still watching Cars, only at the part where Lightning was paving the road.

Their popcorn had been finished and Olivia looked half asleep. She had been so excited for this that she spent the first half of the movie explaining the entire plot to Milo. Milo was still awake, but only slightly. He looked towards the door as Daniel and his mother walked in.

She crept in front of the television and crouched in front of her son. "Hi, Munchkin," she whispered, sending a little glance in Olivia's direction. Her eyes were now fully closed as she laid against the one of the many fluffy cushions.

"Hi, momma," Milo responded, his voice tired.

"How would you like to sleep here tonight?"

Milo's face suddenly paled. "Please don't leave me here, momma," he squeaked, hugging Y/N's hand.

She let out a small, kind laugh and ruffled Milo's hair. "I'll be here too, Munchkin," she whispered and kissed the top of his head. "Are you okay if we stay here?"

Milo let out a relief breath. He pressed his finger against his chin as he thought about it. "Yeah, momma," he answered after a moment.

Kissing the top of his head, Y/N crept back out of the room. She met Daniel at the door to the living room and held up her thumbs, unable to hide her smile.

While the kids fell asleep as they watched the television, the adults walked back to the kitchen. They clinked their glasses together once and again and drank.

It wasn't clear when they ended up on the floor. But their first bottle of wine was almost finished and music played softly in the background. The kids had already been put to bed, Olivia carried to her four poster bed and Milo put to sleep in the spare room. Olivia had given up her frog teddy for Milo to cuddle while he slept. Y/N leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen and Daniel was against the cupboards opposite her.

"Who... who the fuck has their own brand of wine?" Y/N slurred as she looked at him. They both had their legs stretched out, side by side. At some point Daniel placed his warm hand onto her leg, but she wasn't complaining. Either she didn't mind or she hadn't noticed. "A-and why is the wine so good?"

Daniel squeezed her leg and finished his glass. "This was my last bottle," he answered, his voice just a little clearer than her own. "I was saving it for a special occasion."

"Sorry Danny."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because we drank all of your special wine for your special occasion."

Daniel laughed, but he didn't bother to explain it, didn't bother to explain that this was the special occasion and he was happy to share it with her.

"Can I say something?" Y/N said suddenly and Daniel nodded his head. She sucked in a breath and stared into his eyes brown eyes. "Your ex is the biggest asshole I've ever met." She said and Daniel let out a laugh, one that overtook his entire body. "Seriously!" Y/N continued. "What did you ever see in her?"

It was the wine talking, but Daniel explained it to her. He sat there and explained his romantic history with Olivia's mother. "We met when I was still in Red Bull," he answered. He didn't notice Y/N's confusion (since, you know, she doesn't know anything about Formula One) and continued. "It was actually her that convinced me to go to Renault. It was early on in our relationship and I didn't see the red flags. By the time I did, she had fallen pregnant and she didn't want to get rid of it.

"We stayed together, tried to make it work for our child. She was manipulative and, when I was away racing and she was looking after Olivia, I saw it. Still, though, I wanted to make things work. But I realised it wasn't worth it. If Olivia's mother and I couldn't make things work, I didn't want to make things miserable for Olivia.

"When we split up, it became clear she was only with me for my pay check. She might have loved me at first, but things definitely changed."

Y/N leaned forward, slipping her wine slightly on the wooden floor, and tapped Daniel on the nose. "You've done a good job with Livvy," she said, crawling across the floor and tucking her body against his side. "She's so amazing."

"So is Milo," Daniel reassured her, letting his arm rest on her shoulder.

Y/N let out a scoff. "I know Milos a good kids," she whispered. "He's the best kid. I got so freaking lucky. He's my entire world. But..." She paused, sucked in a deep breath and sipped her wine. "I wish I could give him a father figure."

Just like she had, Daniel tapped her on the nose. "Come to a Grand Prix with me," he said, somewhat suddenly.

"What? Danny I can't just drop everything to come to a grand prix with you," she said, her head against his shoulder.

"Come on, Y/N. It would be amazing. And I know Milo would love it. Olivia would love having him there. Plus, I'd love it if you could watch me race."

Finishing off her wine, Y/N huffed. "Fine," she said and put the glass on the floor beside her. "But only because Milo would have a good time, Olivia would have a good time, and I really want to watch you race."

Her eyes were drooping, her words becoming quieter. "You can be my lucky charm," he whispered.

When Daniel looked over, her eyes were shut. He made light work of putting the wine and the glasses away before scooping Y/N into her arms and carrying her out of the kitchen.

"Danny," she mumbled against his chest, his eyes still closed. "Can I sleep in your nice big bed?" She never would have asked it sober, but he was too drunk to notice that.

"Sure," Daniel muttered and carried her up to his room. He sat her down onto his bed and pulled out an old pair of pyjamas that was definitely going to be way to big for her. He turned around and let her get changed.

Daniel was turned around for a long while, waiting for her to tell him when she was done. But she never did. After he felt like enough time had passed, Daniel turned around.

There she was, wearing his clothes. She was laid back on the bed, her arm over her stomach, her eyes shut, and her chest steadily rising and falling.

Daniel smiled softly. He gently moved her, getting under beneath the blankets. When Daniel went to leave, something grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said, her voice sleepy. "Stay, please. This bed is too big for me."

For someone so tired, her grip on him was like a vice. Plus, they'd both be fully clothed, Daniel said to himself, trying to justify it. "Okay," he said, prying her hands away from his wrist.

He made quick work of getting changed into something more comfortable and slipped into the bed.

When things started, they were far away from each other, on opposite sides of the bed. But she must have scooted herself back. Daniel didn't mind. He simply wrapped his arms around her and continued to sleep.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[lordprettyflackotara]

Jeff the killer SFW & NSFW headcannon’s:

SFW:

-ahh yes our lil emo boy who played with fire

-100% does not believe in haircuts. you will have to be the one to force him

-if you let him he will live off of beef jerky and dr pepper

-only finds showering necessary when he's soaked in blood, which just so happens to be almost every night. so TECHNICALLY jeff is clean but not because of regular hygiene ideals

-certified yapper. finds himself having the most in common with ben, but has a tendency to hangout with EJ, its more along the line of opposites attract kinda thing

-loves rock/alternative/'emo' music. room is covered in band posters and everything is black

-his cheeks remain raw and uncut, they never heal/scar. he constantly has to use eye drops and uses a wet washcloth to cover his eyes when he sleeps

-speaking of sleep, is lowkey an insomniac. hes got loads of unaddressed trauma, he has lots of night terrors and prefers to stay awake if possible

-slept with jane once when they were teenagers, its how he lost his v card. (she thinks he was absolutely terrible in bed, thus why he will never admit this to anyone and claims he was drunk)

-LIVES in hoodies. you will never find this man in another form of clothing. skinny jeans and basketball shorts are his go to

-liu stays at the Trenderman mansion, so he never sees him. he never has to address his guilt or remorse, and he prefers it that way.

-tries to be a great big brother to sally, since he was a shitty one to liu

NSFW:

-knife kink, obviously

-however I dont think Jeff has a blood kink. despite public belief, jeff IS a horndog, but only has the confidence to actually hook up with someone he cares about. he'd love to see you hurt but in other ways <3

-choking, spitting, bruises, slapping, and hair pulling are on the roster

-with his knife he likes to tease you with it. watching goosebumps raise across your skin and the hair on the back of your neck stand up is erotic as fuck for him.

-'Shh, don't move. Might nip ya'

-I think its fairly obvious Jeff's a rough dom, his egotistical attitude not faltering in the bedroom. there is nothing soft about jeff and his love making skills

-however that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to fuck you senseless

-‘your whimpers are so cute doll’

-likes to manhandle you. fucking you against walls, the floor. hes like a rabid dog

-jeff has a high sex drive. he could go without nutting for a day but that’s about it

-likes to nibble at your earlobe. the way your body melts under his is intoxicating

-prefers to receive rather than give. something about face fucking you and abusing your tiny little throat sends him into a feral frenzy

-‘fuckin take it slut. swallow it all’

-prefers pounding you into the mattress, your face buried in the sheets. he likes to grip your hair while you struggle to breathe against the sheets as he fucks you raw

-refuses to wear a condom but steals you lots of birth control and plan b. he refuses to procreate‼️

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[perpl3x]

Late Nights - Logan Howlett / Wolverine

Summary: Logan has phoned you on numerous occasions for a late night hook up. Tonight is no different. Pairing: fwb!reader (afab) x Logan, sub!reader x dom!Logan Words: 5,889 Tags: explicit filth 18+, praising, dirty talk, sex, begging, mentions of alcohol Notes: sorry for the long word count, I got a bit carried away. whoops.

The apartment door pulled open, and a rugged Logan stood before you. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a shadow of stubble covered his chin, nestled between two sideburns. He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and some well-worn bootcut jeans that had clearly seen better days, frayed at the hems and faded at the knees. His eyes, a piercing shade of navy, seemed to look right through you, carrying both warmth and a hint of mystery.

He glanced down at you, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a dimple that softened his rugged features. His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and warmth, a playful sparkle that seemed to invite you into his world. He gestured for you to step inside with a casual flick of his hand, the movement confident and familiar.

His voice, rough and gravelly like gravel underfoot, held a teasing edge as he drawled, “You gonna stand there all night, bub, or are you gonna come in and keep me company?” The words rolled off his tongue with a lazy charm, the kind that made you feel both welcome and intrigued.

As you stepped inside, you were immediately met by the amalgamation of smoke and worn leather, intertwined with his own natural musk. The air was thick with it, creating an intoxicating and familiar scent that enveloped you like a warm embrace. The aroma of his favorite brand of cigars mingled with the rich, earthy scent of old leather, emanating from the cracked, well-used sofa and the leather jacket draped casually over a chair.

The faint sound of music, now more distinct, filled the room as the vinyl quietly spun on the record player. The charming crackle of static added a nostalgic touch, the slight imperfections of the analog sound giving it a warm, authentic quality. As the melody emerged, you quickly recognized it as Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the shadows, revealing the rugged charm of the room. The atmosphere was unmistakably Logan's, a blend of nostalgia and understated sophistication. The walls were a collage of eclectic posters, showcasing his love for gritty rock bands and iconic classic films. A large, flat-screen TV dominated one corner, perched on a sturdy, timeworn wooden cabinet that bore the scars of age and use. The cabinet was flanked by a powerful stereo system and a vintage DVD player, each piece meticulously maintained, evidence of Logan's appreciation for quality and craftsmanship. The TV's faint glow was the room's primary source of light, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls. On a small table nearby, a few records lay scattered, their worn covers hinting at Logan's enduring love for the warm, rich tones of vinyl.

Logan sauntered over to the makeshift bar tucked into the corner of the kitchen, the battered wooden countertop bearing the marks and scars of countless years of use. He reached for a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, its label worn and peeling, and poured himself a generous measure. The amber liquid caught the dim light as it splashed into the glass, reflecting a warm glow. Without a word, he poured a glass for you, the gesture casual but welcoming.

As he did so, you discarded your shoes and coat before settling into the couch, feeling the weight of the day sinking into the cushions along with your body. "I've been thinking about you today," you call out nonchalantly.

Logan's eyes flicked to you over the rim of the glass, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. He took a swig from his glass, the whiskey burning a trail down his throat, leaving a familiar warmth in its wake. A satisfied sigh escaped him, the sound low and gravelly. With a nod, he ambled over to the couch, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of experience.

He set both drinks down on the coffee table with a practiced ease, the amber liquid glinting softly in the low light. Next to the glasses, an ashtray held a freshly stubbed cigar, its fragrant smoke lingering in the air, adding to the room’s hazy atmosphere.

He sat down beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he settled in. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with the soft crackle of the music playing in the background and the faint hum of the city outside. Logan's hand found its way to your knee, his fingers gently tracing circles, the touch light and teasing, yet grounded in a comforting familiarity.

"Been thinking about me, huh?" he asked, his voice low and husky, the words a seductive rumble against your ear. His breath was warm, a puff of air that sent a shiver down your spine, mingling with the intoxicating scent of whiskey, leather, and cigar smoke that clung to him. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement.

You tilt your head back, closing your eyes slightly as the warmth from his breath lingers on your skin, a comforting sensation that sends a gentle shiver through you. A small smile plays on your lips, the corners lifting in a mixture of contentment and affection. Your hand instinctively reaches to cover his on your knee, fingers brushing lightly against his. “Mmm, I might have,” you admit, your voice soft and breathy, almost a whisper. The words are wrapped in a hint of playful intrigue.

As you pull your hand away from his to take a sip of your drink, your gaze lingers on his, the room's dim light casting deep shadows across his rugged features. You lean in closer, the warmth of your breath brushing against his ear, sending a shiver through the space between you. Your arm falls back to its previous place, lightly grazing his side as you whisper, "You know, it's been a long day. I could use a release." Your hand trails up Logan's arm, your fingers dancing along the defined muscles, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt. As you pull away, your touch lingers just a moment longer, leaving him with a smoldering, sultry smile.

Logan let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending shivers down your spine. "I think I can help you with that, bubs," he said, his voice heavy with innuendo as his hand snaked its way to the nape of your neck and gently tugged you towards him, fervently kissing your lips.

His tongue sought entry, and as it met yours, it danced with a hunger that mirrored the desire in his eyes. The kiss deepened, his hand sliding down from your neck, to your back, pulling you closer, the heat between you both intensifying. Despite his hands being large and rugged, he somehow managed to touch you like fine china that he didn't want to break, even despite the lust and desperation.

He pulled away, his breathing heavy, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. "You know, I've been thinking about how I'm going to bend you over this couch, your pretty ass in the air, just begging for it," he said, his voice thick with lust. A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

"Would you like that, sweetcheeks?" He asked softly, his hot breath fanning against you neck as he gruffly whispered into your ear, still keeping a firm grip on you as his hands burried into the sides of your hips.

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on your body. You nodded, biting your lip in response, the anticipation of his touch making your heart race.

Logan's fingers dug gently into your sides, urging you to verbalize your desire. "Say it for me, bubs. Tell me you want that," he uttered, his voice a sultry rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air in the room. He pulled away slightly to look at you, to drink you all in.

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat as you looked up into his intense gaze. His eyes, deep and piercing, seemed to hold you captive, the world around you fading into insignificance. "Yes," you finally breathed, your voice dripping with desire. "I need you Logan. I want you to fill me up until I can't even think straight - until I'm nothing but a moaning mess begging for you to let me cum."

Logan's eyes darkened with satisfaction as you gave in to your desires, a satisifed and carnal smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasted no time in acting on your words, pushing you back into the cushions of the couch laying you down on your back, his body towering over you as he propped himself on his forearms, the muscles straining as he leaned in. His lips eagerly worked on the skin of your neck, the stubble of his beard scratching your delicate skin in a way that sent shivers of both pleasure and discomfort down your spine. You let out an airy breath, your head falling back against the cushions as his mouth trailed lower, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

As Logan's lips traced a path down your neck, his words grumbled against your skin. "I'm going to worship every inch of your perfect little body," he growled, his voice thick with lust. The intensity of his touch made you squirm under him, the anticipation of what was to come building within you. You could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him, as he loomed over you, his presence commanding and intoxicating.

Instinctively, your body reacted to his touch as you arched your back towards him urging to close the gap between you - needing every inch of your being to physically be connected. His fingers began to work on the buttons of your blouse, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring each moment. As the garment fell open, revealing the lacy bra that encased your breasts, he leaned in to nuzzle your cleavage, the scratch of his beard a sensation that mixed both pleasure and discomfort.

Logan continued to lavish attention on you, his large hands cupping your breasts through the lace, his lips tenderly sucking and nipping at the skin of your exposed chest, hot breath causing goosebumps to flare over your skin. "I can't wait to hear you moan for me, bubs," he uttered with the usual gravel in his voice, lust laced in his words. Your eyes fluttered shut, the sensations overwhelming as he continued to worship your body.

As he helped you slip out of the blouse, now unbuttoned and sliding effortlessly from your shoulders, his gaze shifted downward, drinking in the sight of you. His attention lingered on your bare legs that just peaked out of your skirt, his admiration evident in the way his eyes darkened with appreciation. His large hands moved to your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, a gentle squeeze that sent a thrill coursing through you. The warmth of his touch spread like wildfire, igniting every nerve, as he explored the contours of your skin with an almost reverent focus. His grip was firm yet tender.

"You're so fucking beautiful, bubs," Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in to nip at your inner thigh, his beard grazing against your skin. The mixture of pleasure and discomfort from the stubble had you gasping, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as you arched into his touch. His capable hands traced higher, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt, the fabric tight against your curves. He pulled it down slowly, his eyes never leaving your body as it was revealed.

As Logan pulled down your skirt with ease, revealing your matching lacy thong, his gaze lingered on the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire. The lace of the thong hugged your curves, the material sheer enough to offer glimpses of your arousal, the dampness evident against the fabric.

The sight of you, laid out before him, your body flushed and eager, was a sight that turned Logan on immensely. The flush of your cheeks, the way you bit your lip as you squirmed under his touch, the way your breath hitched with each touch, were all sights and sounds that fueled his lust. It was clear that you wanted him just as much.

You began to toy with the hem of Logan's dark t-shirt that hugged his physique, your fingers tracing the fabric as a subtle signal for him to remove it. Logan took the hint quickly, reaching up and sliding it over his head. His muscles flexed in the dim lighting, the shadows accentuating the chiseled contours of his abs and the broad expanse of his chest. The light highlighted the dark body hair that spanned his torso, a rugged trail enticingly leading down to the waistband of his jeans.

Veins stood out on his forearms, their prominence accentuated by the strain as he wrestled with the shirt. His pelvis, with a few veins visible just peeking above the waistband of his jeans, bulged with the effort, adding to the raw, masculine allure of his figure.

You couldn't help but stare, admiration and lust mingling in your gaze. Logan's body was a sight to behold; every muscle was defined and sculpted, each curve and ridge a result of relentless training and perseverance. "Fuck..." is all you could mutter, drinking in his rugged appearance that only fuelled your carnal desire for him.

With a cocky grin, Logan chuckled softly, clearly reveling in his own chiseled, god-like presence. "Do you like what you see, bub? Don't worry darlin', it's all yours." The confidence in his expression was palpable, a mix of pride and self-assuredness that only added to his already commanding aura. His amusement was not just in his smile, but in the way his eyes sparkled with a sense of satisfaction, as if he were fully aware of the effect his imposing physique had on you.

Logan's large hands continued to roam, his fingertips grazing the edge of your thong. He trailed his fingers lower, the pads of his digits pressing against the fabric that covered your clit. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as he began to rub in slow, deliberate circles, feeling the heat emanating from you through the thin material.

"Look at you, bub. You're dripping for me, aren't you? Can't wait for me to fill you up, can you? Aren't you such a good girl for me, hmm? Your pretty pussy all ready for me. That's what you want, isn't it darlin'?"

Logan didn't give you any time to respond as he dove down to you again, he captured your lips in another kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as his fingers continued to tease you. The sensation of his fingers against your clit, combined with the warmth of his kiss, had you moaning into his mouth. Logan loved the sound, his own arousal growing with each moan that escaped you.

His fingers continued to expertly rub against your clit, teasing the sensitive nub as he leaned in. Fervently, he pulled away nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. With a wicked grin that you couldn't see, he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking gently, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted in a silent plea for him to return, your body craving the warmth, the moisture, the intimacy.

"You're so desperate for this cock, aren't you? Beg for it, bub." His head still buried into your neck, you couldn't see the carnal desire that you knew was laced in his expression but you could hear it in his gravelly uttering. "I bet you'd do anything for it, wouldn't you? Tell me how much you need it, and I might just give it to you."

For Logan, there was no greater pleasure than hearing you admit your need for his cock, the raw, visceral desire in your voice. The thought of his thick, member filling you, stretching you wide, your wet, tight walls gripping him with every thrust, sent a jolt of satisfaction through him. He imagined your face flushed and contorted with pleasure, your moans and cries growing more frantic as he pounded into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust, your voice stuttering out his name in a primal cry of ecstasy.

Logan's own arousal was a tangible thing, a throbbing, insistent presence straining against the confines of his jeans. The outline was stark and unmistakable.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Logan's fingers continued to tease your clit, the sensation overwhelming. "Please, Logan, I need your cock. I need you to fill me up, to make me yours. I'll do anything, just please, please fuck me."

The plea for Logan's cock spilled from your lips, the words tumbling out in a desperate, ragged rush. Your voice shook with a raw, unabashed honesty, the vulnerability and need in your tone leaving no doubt as to the depth of your desire for him. You were painfully aware of how pathetic your begging might sound, but in that moment, you were utterly helpless before him. Logan was your undoing, the one who could strip you of all sense of control, reducing you to a quivering, desperate wreck in his presence.

"Is that all you've got, bub? I want to hear you really beg, show me how much you want it. Tell me what you'd do to have this cock inside you." His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, as he continued to torment you with his fingers, the cruel tease driving you mad with lust. He brought his teeth to the tender skin of your neck and gentle nibbled at it.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and desire. Logan's demand for more left you squirming beneath his touch, your body aching for release. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as you tried to gather your courage. The thought of submitting to him, of groveling, made your core clench with a heady mix of lust and shame.

"I'll do anything, please, I'll worship your cock. I'll bend over and take it deep and hard, let you use me however you want. Just let me have you, Logan, please, I need you."

The words were a raw, unfiltered expression of your desire, a testament to the depths of your need for him. You knew you sounded degrading, but in that moment, it was the only way to express the urgency and intensity of your desire. You were willing to do whatever it took to have him, to finally feel the blissful fullness of his cock inside you.

Logan withdrew his hand, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbow. He gazed at your flushed, disheveled form, taking a moment to savor the sight of your desperation and need for him. Your eyes, heavy-lidded and sultry, bore into him with a yearning that was both intoxicating and exhilarating.

"You'll let me use you, huh? Just how I want?" His voice was thick with lust as he considered your offer, the image of your eager, submissive body a temptation he found difficult to resist. "Well, bub, if you're offering yourself up like that, I think it's only fair that I take what you're offering."

He pushed himself up from the sofa, his skin was flushed, heat rising in his cheeks as the intensity of the situation and his own desire became apparent. His sinewy muscles seemed to ripple beneath his skin, the light catching on the slight sheen of sweat that had begun to form. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead.

As Logan fumbled with the buckle of his belt, the action slow and deliberate, his broad chest heaved with each breath. The dark, piercing eyes that met yours were fierce and intent, seemingly trying to undress you with their heated gaze. The air between you grew thick with tension, charged with the electricity of desire as he practically eye-fucked you, leaving you squirming in your lingerie on the couch.

Once the buckle was undone, Logan took hold of the belt, beginning to carefully unthread it from the loops of his jeans. With each smooth, deliberate motion, the tension in the room grew. He discarded the belt to the floor, the metal hitting the hardwood with a soft clink.

Taking a momentary break from his task, Logan reached for the glass of whiskey that still sat untouched on the coffee table. He downed the amber liquid in one smooth gulp, his throat working as he swallowed. A satisfied hum escaped him as he licked his lips, the sensation of the whiskey warming his insides. With a heavy hand, he placed the glass back on the table, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Logan's hands moved to the button of his jeans, slowly sliding it through the hole and popping it open. He began to lower his pants, the fabric resisting his movements, bunching around his thighs. As he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, his hand found its way to the bulge in his boxers. His fingers brushed against the hot, rigid length of his cock, rubbing through the fabric in a slow, teasing motion. The sight of him pleasuring himself, even through the barrier of his underwear, was enough to make you squirm on the couch, the need for him growing more insistent with each passing second.

Logan's voice, deep and gravelly, filled the room as he spoke, the teasing lilt in his tone sending shivers down your spine. "Do you want me to show you what you've been thinking about all day, bubs?"

He continued to toy with his cock, the way his fingers moved over the fabric a tantalizing dance that left you aching for more. You could almost feel the heat radiating from him, the thick, veiny length straining against the confines of his boxers, begging for release.

You nodded eagerly, your eyes locked onto his hand as it continued to stroke over his cock. The pulsing, throbbing need between your legs grew more and more unbearable, an insatiable hunger that demanded to be sated. You fought the urge to start pleasuring yourself, knowing full well that Logan enjoyed making you wait, enjoy the anticipation, before finally giving in to your desires.

Logan's smirk deepened, a sly glint in his eyes, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Use your words, darlin'. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. Put those lips of yours to work."

Logan's teasing continued, his tone alluring as he urged you on. "Come on, you've been such a good girl already. Say 'please'." Instead of simply stroking, he now gripped his erection, the outline of his cock now painfully obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sight of it, combined with Logan's relentless teasing, was enough to push you to the brink of insanity.

Finally, you found your voice, your words shaky and desperate. "Please, Logan, show me what I've been thinking about all day. Please, please, show me your cock."

Logan's lips curved into a satisfied grin, his teeth flashing as he bestowed praise upon you. "Good girl, bubs. I knew you had it in you." He took his time, moving deliberately and teasingly as he slid his boxers down his legs. The fabric caught on his thick, erect member, the sight of it being released, springing free and smacking against his abdomen, was pure torture. Once it was fully free, his cock bobbed, standing proud and upright, the head glistening with precum.

He didn't linger any longer, sliding both his jeans and boxers off of his legs, which had been pooling around his knees. He stood before you, fully and completely naked. His body was a sight to behold. The veins that bulged at his pelvis continued to run down his rigid length.

His large, calloused hands wrapped around his shaft, the grip firm and confident. Logan began to stroke himself, the slow, deliberate motions drawing out the pleasure. As he moved, he made his way back towards the couch, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. Logan's approach was both eager and gentle, his large hand wrapping around your wrist with a tenderness that belied the raw power and strength he possessed. With surprising ease, he dragged you gently, positioning you so that you leaned over the arm of the couch. Your body followed his lead, naturally conforming to the position he wanted, your ass now raised in the air, presented to him, ready for his taking.

A satisfied hum rumbled in Logan's chest as he took in the view, his hands moving to explore the curves of your ass. His fingers traced the lines of your cheeks, the pads of his digits pressing into the soft flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Logan's hands continued to roam over your ass, his voice a low growl in your ear as he uttered dirty, filthy words. "You're a good girl, coming over here tonight, begging for my cock. You're just aching for me to take you, aren't you, bub? To fill you up, to claim every inch of you as mine."

Logan's hands squeezed your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into the flesh as he kneaded and massaged you. His touch was firm, possessive, as if he were claiming you through the physical connection. With a slow, deliberate motion, he used his thumbs to slide your underwear to the side, revealing your wetness to him. Two fingers slipped inside, the warmth enveloping them as they slid in with ease. A contented murmur escaped him, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

The sensation of Logan's fingers inside of you, the way they delved deep, was almost too much. You couldn't help the breathy moans and lustful exhales that escaped your lips, your face pressed into the leather seat of the sofa as he pleasured you from behind. Your body arched, your hips rolling back to meet his touch, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. The way he talked to you, the filthy words that rolled off his tongue, only served to fuel the fire of your desire, making you squirm and writhe against his touch.

Logan's grip on your hip tightened, using it as leverage to push you down into the cushions. As he withdrew his fingers, they were slick with your arousal, the evidence of your need for him. He used that same hand to grip his cock. He spat onto his hand, the warm saliva mixing with your arousal, creating a makeshift lubricant. Logan rubbed the wetness onto his cock, coating it in the mixture before slowly edging the head of his cock against your entrance, the wet tip teasing you, making you whimper in anticipation.

Logan's voice was a low growl, the words dripping with lust and dominance. "Is this what you wanted darlin'? My fat cock fucking into you, huh? Is this what you've been thinking about all day? Have you missed this bubs?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge, a confirmation of what you'd been fantasizing about. Your body trembled, your breath hitching in your throat as you finally found your voice, your words thick and needy.

"Yes, please, Logan. Yes, I've missed this. I need you. I need this. Fuck - I need your cock so bad."

Logan's response was immediate, his hips bucking forward ever so slightly. The head of his cock dipped into your entrance, the slick tip teasing you, making you moan into the couch. Logan's praise was laced with satisfaction, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. "That's a good girl. You're so eager for me, aren't you, bub? You're just begging to be filled by me, to have every inch of you claimed by my cock. I knew you'd be a good girl, always wanting me, always craving my dick."

Your promise was fulfilled as he bucked his hips forward once more, this time not stopping at the entrance. His cock filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you, making you gasp and moan into the cushion. Your body gripped the material of the couch, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to hold onto something, anything, as Logan claimed you. Your core clenched around him, the wet, slick walls of your pussy adjusting to the size of his cock.

As if sensing your need, Logan's primal instincts took over, his rhythm quickening as he began to fuck into you deeply and with unrelenting force. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot with each thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Your body arched to meet his, your hips rolling in sync with his, encouraging him to go deeper, to claim more of you. Your moans grew louder, your body quivering with each thrust, the pleasure building within you, threatening to consume you whole.

Logan's grunts filled the room, the sounds of his satisfaction mingling with your own moans. He used both hands to grip your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh as he sought the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot, to make you writhe and squirm beneath him. "You're such a good girl, bub. Look at you, taking my cock so well."

Your body tensed, your core clenching as Logan's cock continued to thrust into you, the subtle pressure overwhelmingly nice. Your breathing hitched, your voice strained as you managed to utter, "Fuck - L- Logan-"

His voice was a husky growl, his words a promise of what was to come. "Mm, that's it bubs, my name sounds so pretty coming from your lips." His hands moved to your back, the firm grip pushing you down into the couch as he continued to take control, to claim you fully.

Logan's thrusts grew more forceful, each one driving deep into your core, his girthy cock stretching and filling you completely. Your body surrendered to the sensation, your hips arching to meet each powerful stroke. The sound of your moans, breathy and pleading, echoed through the room, mingling with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the rhythmic symphony of your shared passion.

Logan's face contorted with his own pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you fall further under his spell. His voice rumbled through the room, a deep growl of satisfaction, "You like that, bub? You like how I own you like this?"

The question sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body, the heady mix of submission and dominance pushing you closer to the edge. The tension within you coiled tighter, the sweet torment of Logan's edge play threatening to tip you over the brink. You nodded, your body trembling, your nails digging into the couch as you fought to hold onto the last threads of coherence.

"That's my girl," Logan praised. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you tightly as he continued to thrust, the rhythm of his movements a relentless march towards your climax.

Leaning down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me when you're ready to cum, bub. I wanna hear those pretty little words leave your mouth." His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

Logan's keen senses, honed by his mutation, allowed him to detect the most minute changes in your body, the subtle shift in the pitch of your moans, the heightened surge of oxytocin that coursed through your nervous system. He reveled in these signs, knowing that you were nearing the brink, the culmination of your pleasure. Yet, there was something else he enjoyed even more. He wanted to hear the words spill from your lips, to witness the undoing of your composure, to have you become a blubbering, breathless mess as you confessed your impending climax.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he increased the tempo of his thrusts. The walls of your sex clenched around him, and you could feel the pressure building, the familiar coil of tension that promised release. As your body tensed, the tell-tale signs becoming more pronounced, Logan's eyes gleamed with anticipation. The sight of you, flushed and writhing beneath him, was a sight he could never grow tired of.

Your whispered confession, "I'm… I'm close, Logan. I'm gonna cum…" sent a jolt of pure satisfaction through him. It was like a trigger, igniting the fuse that would lead to the explosion of your pleasure. "That's it, bub," Logan encouraged as he continued to thrust into you, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. "You're doing so good. Let it take you. Just a little more, bubs. You're so close. I can feel it."

His hand slid down your body, slipping between your legs to find your swollen clit. With a gentle yet firm touch, he began to rub in circles, adding another layer of stimulation to your already heightened senses.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the sensations of his cock buried deep within you pushed you over the precipice. Your body arched and squirmed beneath him, a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure escaping your lips. The sound of your ecstasy was accompanied by the soft crinkling of the leather sofa beneath you. Logan continued to stroke your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as he rode out your climax with you. "Good girl, bub," he praised, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Logan felt his own release drawing near, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming more urgent, his breath hitching in his chest. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fought to maintain control, to prolong the agonizingly sweet edge he found himself teetering on.

As Logan felt the telltale signs of his own impending release, he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. With a growl, he aimed himself at your back, releasing his hot seed in thick ropes onto your skin.

The warmth of his cum cascaded down your spine, the sensation both arousing and exhilarating. Logan's gaze followed the path of his release, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched the evidence of his pleasure. "I've always loved the way you look when you're spent, bub."

Logan's chest heaved as he caught his breath, the afterglow of their passion washing over you both. "I'll go and get a towel for you, bubs," he stated softly. He gave your ass a gentle pat before heading towards the bathroom, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I'll run you a nice hot bath. You're going to need it after all that."

Link to the rest of my work!

[jamieontheroof]

Random things I noticed while playing What Remains Of Edith Finch

There was a poster of the cannery that Lewis worked at on the boat.

2. Edith Jr wears what appears to be an engagement on a necklace. Whether this is her ring or her mothers is not mentioned.

3. At the start of the game, Milton's missing posters are EVERYWHERE. There is even a giant pile of them in a nearby lake.

4. The dragon slide that crushed and killed Sven is still outside.

5. As you walk toward the house, the music gets louder.

6. The swing that Calvin flew off decades ago is still looped around the branch.

7. There was a spare peep hole in the garage that didn't have any names or dates on it.

8. At multiple points throughout the game you can hear a train in the background, despite the fact that the train tracks are clearly destroyed.

9. There are multiple pots throughout the Finch house that looks like they have eyes.

10. One of the books the Finches possessed was 'King in Yellow', a book known for making anyone who read it insane.

11. The house sounds alive, or like there are people constantly moving around it.

12. Walters bedroom is painted with both ocean and train designs. One of the paintings is the old house that Odin tried to bring to America.

13. There are drag marks on the ground of Walters bedroom (most likely made when his drawers were taken out of his room.)

14. The entrance to the tunnels is hidden by a book called 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a classic sci-fi story about a sea monster.

15. Molly's room is filled entirely with animal books.

16. There is a jelly fish on Molly's bed (possible connection to the monster??).

17. Molly has a chalkboard in her bedroom where she is a princess in an underwater castle and Sven is about to get attacked by a sea monster (slightly resembling the dragon slide).

18. As shark!Molly starts falling down the cliff, she passes a road where headlights are briefly scene.

19. When the monster gets back to Molly's room, the window that cat!Molly jumped through is still open.

20. There are still Christmas decorations in Molly's room.

21. The curse is 500 years old. That is a lot of dead people.

22. In Odin's viewfinder, it states "His [Odin's] daughter, Edie, is already dreaming of new Finch house" showing that even though her own father died not even a week ago, Edie has already moved on.

23. The house is filled head to toe with books about death, including two that Odin wrote.

24. Sven's shrine does not have a log painting like the rest of the family. His portrait is painted on a simple canvas.

25. Edie has a number of strange tapes in her room including one titled "conspiracy now".

26. The toys from Gregory's final bath are still in the bathroom.

27. There is an old bottle of alcohol in the bathroom bin.

28. A lot of Sam's photos are based on Calvin (a swing, astronauts).

29. All of Milton's drawings are based on the death. (Molly = cat, Barbara = pumpkin)

30. There are cigarettes and gin on Sam's side of the room he shared with Calvin.

31. Calvin already had bruises, Band-Aids and a cast on his leg when he died.

32. Sam blames himself for challenging Calvin.

33. In the story, Calvin doesn't fall. He keeps flying.

34. Barbara's birthday cake is still in her room.

35. Barbara is holding crutches in her portrait.

36. There are totem-esc styles statues of both Calvin and Molly

37. Barbara's outfit is over the railing.

This is the same way the Hook-Man falls

38. "Performance of her life" can also mean that it is the performance she is known for.

39. There are spare portrait logs in the basement.

40. There is a fake window in the basement.

41. Edie's grave is finished despite her dying and then nobody else going to the house.

42. There is no grave for Milton.

43. Lewis' grave has a crown on it.

44. There are times wear it seems like you can hear sobbing (this one may just be me).

45. There is a box of Kay's old stuff in Sam's bedroom.

46. Odin has a park named after him.

47. This isn't a fact but I think this may be one of the funniest photos of the game (LIKE SIR? YOUR DAUGHTER IS SOBBING!).

48. Both Calvin and Dawn are on Sam's shrine.

49. Gus has a skateboard over his name.

50. Gregory has the soap bottle from his final bath in his shrine.

51. The music cuts out when Gregory isn't moving.

52. Same also blames himself for Gregory.

53. Gus never met his step mother.

54. Gus was crushed by the (totem) statues of his deceased relatives.

55. Dawn's light switch is the only one on

56. Most of the rules are about past deaths. (No playing outside without permission : Calvin, No answering door for strangers : Barbara, No messes after dark : Molly (???)).

57. Milton's garden has a castle (reference to the Unfinished Swan)

58. There is a small Sanjay shrine in the classroom

59. Edith JR did an assignment on her family history.

60. Lewis drew on his desk.

61. There is no death date for Milton on his peephole.

62. Edith JR wrote Milton's death date as 2003 (the year he disappeared).

63. The door from the flip book is in Milton's room.

64. Lewis' dream Palace is decorated with fish.

65. The gnomes scattered around the house are outside the original house in Edie's story.

66. The credits roll in reverse order.

AND THAT'S IT!! I had a few others I thought didn't need to go in.

[girlkisser13]

aphrodite cabin headcanons

a/n: i know that the cabins are in order based on where each olympian sits on the olympian council but i find it funny that aphrodite is #10. get it? because she's a 10. i'll stop. 😔

children of aphrodite

• they're the most diverse cabin at camp.

• they're kind of like a cult.

• mean girls quotes. all day. everyday.

• they have loads of spare clothes that they lend out to new campers that arrive with nothing.

• they actually wear the least amount of makeup out of all the campers because they have the gift of natural beauty.

• they help kids work out their sexualities and make sure they're confident and okay with them.

• they are physically incapable of misgendering people.

• trans aphrodite kids can change their appearance at will.

• they know the basics of every romance language.

• they do couples counseling.

• camp matchmakers.

• they're the camp hairdressers and they also run a secret piercing parlor.

• sucker for romance movies.

• they have the most creative ways of swearing ("you impractical second hand prada bag").

• aphrodite gives them charmed bags that can hold ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING.

• they're particularly fond of sweet foods. like they need a little sweet treat after every meal.

• they keep a running list of the best make out and date spots at camp.

• they're always that person that has a tampon or pad if you need one.

• they're the type of people that will chop off their hair if it doesn't match their outfit.

• the cabin hosts regular beauty and self-care nights, where campers can relax and pamper themselves with facials, manicures, and other treatments.

• they are huge advocates of self love and self care. they do everything in their power to teach every single camper to love themselves.

• they are the most lgbtqia+ supportive cabin, as they are also very diverse in the terms of sexuality: imagine a ton of pansexuals, demisexuals, bisexuals, flirty gays/lesbians, a few aro/ace chilling in the background- everyone is represented.

cabin exterior

• instead of being a life size barbie dreamhouse like it's described in the books, its very subtle, and natural, and soft.

• the outside is pink, but such a pale pink that it looks white unless the right light is hitting it.

• there is natural ivy growing on each wall and onto the roof. It wraps around shutters and the frames of the doors.

• it almost looks like a small manor and like it should have been built on some far off hill that is surrounded by flower fields for miles.

cabin interior

• the inside is very warm and welcoming.

• there are so many pictures, posters, mirrors, and shelves that you can barely see the paint.

• lowkey feels like you're walking into a bath & body works.

• their cabin is filled with scented candles.

• pop music constantly plays in the background and everything in there is expensive as hell.

• their beds are tailored to each camper's exact taste. so it's a bizarre mix of furniture from a fluffy bed with 16 pillows to a bed that looks like it belongs in a prison.

• aphrodite charmed it so that it is bigger on the inside.

• there is a walk-in, expanding, closet where you put old clothes you don't want anymore and other siblings can come and get some new clothes if they need them (other campers are welcome whenever invited. it happens more often than it should).

cabin traditions

• at the beginning of every summer, everyone (if they feel comfortable) gets in front of the rest of the cabin and gives names, pronouns, and sexuality.

• there is an item from every sibling that has lived in the cabin somewhere on the walls. all of the pictures, posters, things on the shelves are placed there by a past sibling.

• there's a hook where, if your jewelry breaks in the cabin, you tie it off and hang it there. there is a necklace made of leather with a hundred year old stone heart on the hook.

divider by @chilumitos

[darling-i-read-it]

Limo

Johnny Cage x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warnings: jealousy/insecurity, insinuations to smut (natural johnny jokes), lots of drinking for some reason idk what i was on 

Author’s Note: i loveee johnny and writing for him is so fun. I think i kinda mixed the spicy fluffy lol, i hope you liked it darling!! I had sm fun with him <3 

Requested: by anon, I loved your Johnny Cage fic. Can I request another one where he’s with the reader, but she’s still nervous he still has feelings for Sonya? Fluffy or spicy ending is completely up to you, but a happy ending for everyone is all I ask. You’re the best!!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Johnny wouldn’t call himself a frequent drinker. He liked to have a beer at events and a glass when he was winding down at home. Sometimes he would have a nightcap, just to end things right. Every once in a while he would go out drinking with friends. Well, he liked to drink with you, that was always fun. 

So maybe Johnny was a frequent drinker. But he wouldn’t call it a problem. 

Your giggles were like music to his ears. He could hear them from another room, identify it in a crowded space. He sat across from you on your shared California king bed. The bedroom was filled with posters from his movies, larger than life, a huge TV hanging from the wall. There was a discarded beer bottle beside you. You had a glass of your favorite in hand, something Johnny had made for you. He was a bartender in a movie. Ten years ago. 

“No more Jon. No more,” you said, and you were still giggling. 

“C’mon, c’mon. Don’t be a party pooper.” His words were slurred. You could understand him despite it. 

“There’s no party!” you argued lightly. It was just the two of you at home, in bed. He had turned on some music, connecting it to a speaker in the lights. He had the whole place rigged with random electronics. 

“This is our party,” he said, grabbing your hands. He spilled your glass and you were both laughing again. 

“You’ve been to real life parties Johnny. All the good ones, the crazy Hollywood ones. You call this a party?” 

“Yes! This is my favorite kind of party!” 

You were only slightly intoxicated. In fact, you were mostly drunk from Johnny's presence. You enjoyed moments where you just got to sit together, laughing at his absurdness. People tend to think it’s his downfall. In truth, it was the most charming thing about him. You had never known Johnny to be anything except pleasant and funny. 

“Oh come on,” you said. You put down your glass beside you. Your bedside table was covered in things, from tissues to pills. You looked back up at him. He had sunglasses on top of his head, even though the sun had gone down ages ago. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His natural state of being. “What’s been the craziest party you went to?” He thought about it for a moment. He sat back, letting go of your hands. You raised an eyebrow at his studious gaze. 

“There was one like five years ago. People were hangin’ upside down, snorting stuff!” He shook his head, laughing fondly (and drunkenly) at the memory. “Like from the ceiling from hooks! I tried to get up there but Sonya told me I wasn’t allowed to. She was always a party pooper, never wanted to have any fun in front of other people.” He shook his head, a far away look on his face. “She did let me lift her up so she could order us drinks over everyones head. That was hella smart,” he pointed out. 

Your face lost some of its joy at the mention of Sonya. You tried to bring your smile back, not let it bother you. Johnny had always been open about his past romances. He was a womanizer, it was part of his image. Even after his constant assurance, it bothered you a bit. The random girls less so. 

Sonya Blade though…

It was his longest relationship before you. They still worked together sometimes. He still mentioned her, off handedly, like she was a fond friend. 

“You good babe?” You blinked a couple of times, looking back in his eyes. You plastered a fake smile onto your face, trying to let the alcohol in your system sink in. You nodded quickly, grabbing your glass again and bringing it to your lips. 

“Perfect!” You cleared your throat. “Sounds insane.” 

“We should try that next time,” he said. “It was one of my better ideas.” You nodded again. He squinted, sitting all the way up on the bed. The comforter was all messed up from the two of you moving around it. He couldn’t exactly place what had gone wrong but he knew something had been changed.

“You have plenty of good ideas.”

“Yeah, one time I used my powers to get us free drinks.”

“You still do that.”

“It’s really successful. Can you blame me?” You shook your head. You finished your glass. Johnny studied you, squinting his eyes.

“I’m gonna get another glass.” 

“Wait wait, woah!” He grabbed your hand before you could go far. “Wait, something just happened but I don’t know what it was. The vibe changed.”

“Nothing changed,” you assured him. “I just want another glass!” Johnny didn’t know a lot but he knew you. He knew the way you smiled and the way you sometimes covered up your emotions to save him. Even when he said you shouldn’t, you did. 

But arguing with you seemed like a mute point. He wanted things to stay good. That’s all he’s ever wanted. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes Jon.” You leaned forward, giving him a kiss. His lips were plump and extremely kissable. It never failed to make you feel better. You kissed the edge of his mouth, leaving faint flutters on his skin. He smiled, shining his movie star smile. 

“Can you get me another too?”

-

Johnny hadn’t even broken a sweat. He could go for round after round and come out of it unscathed and ready for another. You hopped back up, rubbing the tiredness from your face. You stretched your neck back and forth. 

“Tired already?” he teased. You rolled your eyes. You guys had started to train more together. It saved you both a trip to a gym and it proved that you could get all your anger out in a healthy way. Healthy being a relative term. 

“I’m goin’ easy on you,” you joked. You stood up straight. 

“I don’t like it when you lie to me,” he joked. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the edge of the matt so you could grab a drink of water. You were less ‘indestructible’ based and more ‘power’ based. “You know there’s always other stuff we can use the mat for.” He walked over to you, grabbing his own bottle. You gave him a look as you gulped down your water. He smiled suggestively. 

“I’m not falling for that this time.” 

“You make it sound like you aren’t a willing participant.” He flipped his water bottle and caught it. “Hey, there’s a party in the hills tonight. I was gonna go but I figured I could take you.” You hummed in consideration. He watched you eagerly. 

“Sounds like you have ulterior motives.” 

“I always have ulterior motives.” He was looking down at you with a hopeful gaze. Johnny’s eyes crinkled at the sides. Parties with him were always fun, if not overwhelming. He knew everyone and always wanted to talk to them. He dragged you around like a trophy. But by the end of the night, you were always laughing and always gleefully drunk and happily tied to his side.

He tilted his head. 

“Please?” 

You bit your cheek, making an exaggerated face of contemplation. 

“Alright.” 

“Yes!” He kissed your forehead, giving you finger guns. You rolled your eyes. “I’m gonna go start getting ready. Takes me forever, you know.”

“I know Johnny.” 

“I gotta call the limo.” 

-

“Drink! Over here!” 

“Johnny, you have to order the drink!” you said, laughing. He looked down at you, shaking his head. 

“They’ll figure it out!” “What’cha want man!?” 

“Fuck!” Johnny exclaimed. You laughed, knocking your head against the booth. You were shoved right beside Johnny, close enough where you were practically sitting on him. You had an arm over his shoulders, tracing things into his neck. It was making him restless. Which made him hot. “Something fruity!” 

“For the lady?!” 

“For me! I like fruity things!” Your laughter intensified. He turned back to you. 

“What? What?!”

“Nothing,” you promised. You patted his chest. You were both down a few. It was so loud. The flashing lights made you feel immediately higher than you were, Johnny’s voice drowning into the music. People’s voices were overlapping in excitement, there were bodies on bodies, sweat and spit swapping. 

The waiter gave Johnny some magical drink of unknown origins. He started to drink it immediately. 

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Sonya used to love this shit.” You tensed. You didn’t want to have this conversation here, now. 

“Yeah?” You receded your hand. You put it in your lap. 

“All tough girl but always liked the fruit drinks,” he explained. “Pineapple juice or something.” You grabbed your drink and took a swig. The liquid going down your throat felt good, despite the burn. 

“Hm.” He turned to you, noticing the absence of your touch. 

“You good?” 

“Great!” you lied.

“You sure?” You turned to him. You couldn’t be sure if it was the liquid courage or the environment but it made you want to say something. You wrapped your hands around the glass tightly. 

“You sure talk about Sonya a lot,” you observed. You hadn’t meant for your voice to come off as aggressive as it did. It was fueled by the constant silence, the moments where you bit your tongue. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was a flash of hurt across his eyes but you didn’t catch it. “I mean, if you wanna talk about her that much, you don’t have to do it with me. She’s your ex Johnny.” 

The music muffled in Johnny’s ears. It was like he was watching you speak outside of himself, like it wasn’t him you were speaking to. You were always fun and easy to bounce off of. You never showed any sort of issue with Sonya outwardly. 

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice almost inaudible over the club. 

“C’mon,” you grumbled. “I know all of the dates you guys used to go on. What kind of books she would read, the drinks she would order.” You fidgeted in your seat. You weren’t sitting on top of him anymore. “I mean, it’s like you still love her.” Your voice was laced with venom, all the insecurity behind it coming through. 

Johnny’s big puppy dog eyes fell. He had no idea you felt like that. He wished you had told him before. He started to shake his head aggressively, turning to face you with his entire body. He grabbed your hand gently. His big hand held yours with such soft intentions. 

“I don’t. I swear to you,” he said, trying his hardest to ground his voice. “I don’t love her anymore. I love you.” You didn’t make eye contact with him. “We were just together a long time, some of the stories I wanna tell you have her in it.” 

You finally met his eyes. You felt immediately embarrassed, sobering up quickly. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry I brought it up,” you said, shaking your head. 

“No, it’s something. It clearly bothers you.” He made you face him. His eyes were oozing with concern. He still looked kind of drunk but he could have fooled you. “I’m sorry.” He held your hands tightly, putting your drink back on the counter. 

“Me too.” 

“Don't apologize.” He bit his lip. “Baby.” 

“Johnny.” 

“You wanna dance with me or somethin?” You laughed gently. 

“I do.” 

“I promise I’ll stop bringing her up so much. I don't love anyone but you.” 

“Samesies.” 

“Cool.” 

“Cool.” He gestured with his head towards the dance floor. “Dance?” 

“Or we could skip the dancing all together and go back to the limo?” 

“My girl. My girl, my girl.” He inched closer to you, kissing you cupping your face. You felt entirely consumed by his scent. He stood up, holding your hand. He slipped off his shimmery jacket and handed it over to you. “It’s gonna be cold outside for a minute. Put this on.” “Yes sir.” He moved around the other people at the table, saying quick goodbyes to anyone sober enough to pay attention.  He threw his arm over your shoulder. You put your arm on his hip. He leaned down to whisper to you as you left. He tossed some money on the table. 

“I just wanted to put more clothes on you so I could take them off.” “I know Johnny.” 

“We should get matching tattoos.”

“Johnny, one thing at a time.”

[satureja13]

Saiwa's Therapy Game - Part 3 It starts -> here

'It′s of a brave and a gallant ship With a fair an' a fav′ring breeze, And a goodly crew and a captain too, For to carry me over the seas. For to carry me over the seas, my boys, To my true love far away; I'm taking a trip on a Government ship Ten thousand miles away!'

10.000 Miles Away

Captain Duath sailed 10.000 miles (more or less ^^') until he found a decent remote island.

'And sing blow the winds high-o, a-roving I will go. I'll stay no more on England′s shore or to hear the music play, For I'm off on the morning train and I won′t be back again. For I'm taking a trip on a Government ship Ten thousand miles away.'

An island all for himself! THAT was his dream! Living all by himself and caring only for himself! This is a place where he can fully concentrate on his healing.

Captain Duath moored his dinghy thing and unloaded his few belongings before he explored the small island. Until he found a mailbox - and a flamingo. The label on the mailbox read: Flamingo Island... He always loved flamingos...

(TMI: I created Saiwa in November 2014 as Giga Byte for a career special where she lived as a hacker above the 'Flamin to Go' takeaway.) There also was a flamingo poster in the trailer of the StrangeTrailer Park in Strangerville which later hung in Sai and Jack's apartment at Belgraves Institute.

But a flamingo also is a bird and will remind him of their unfinished business with his damn fake relationship with Kiyoshi. Saiwa is sure that this is no coincidence. Tiny Can won't let him off the hook this easily as it seems. No matter how far he runs away from his problems.

He'll think about that later. Here ingame, he has any time in the world. First he needs a shelter and the buildmode in the Therapy Game was a joy! (Did the flamingo turn towards Sai? He seems to watch him ö.Ö')

Soon he built a little shack out of some thriftwood and stuff he found in the ocean (which was also good for the environment ^^).

To show Tiny Can that he's not just lazing around and to show his goodwill to change, he went with the Flamingo Island theme and built a flamingo patterned armchair. He even found a flamingo towel and shorts...

Saiwa was very dirty after cleaning up the ocean and he urgently needed to take a shower. He thought it's ok that he put the shower outside. The shack is already too small and no one will see him out here anyway.

'No one' was really surprised by the unexpected sight ^^'

Saiwa was hungry after all the work and so he went to catch some fresh fish. He couldn't be happier. He can eat when he wants and what he wants (as long as it's fish ^^') and no one is disturbing him here! (But maybe this island is abandoned because of the fuming vulcano that might 'disturb' him sooner or later ö.Ö')

And while he was grilling his fish, butterflies surrounded him. Just like paradise! (Can you spot all four butterflies? Minus the flying fish ^^')

Saiwa's 'bathroom' :3

While he ate and looked over the calm ocean, he thought about all the things that are stirring him up inside and keeping him from his calm and that he needs to tackle in his therapy. The leadership of the Boys, his relationship with Jeb and his friendship with Kiyoshi. A lot of 'ships'. Maybe therefore Tiny Can made him a captain ^^' And maybe the flamingo bird means he should work on his friendship with Kiyoshi and Jeb first. So they can finally go back home and try to have a halfway normal life together again.

Before he leaves the game, he laid in the sun for a while and let his thoughts flow. Will it be possible to stay the leader or will he have to give it up for his relationship with Jeb? Or will he have to give up Jeb for the Boys?There will always be situations where he will have to put the Boys over Jeb. Is it fair to keep Jeb by his side if he can't be his top priority? He hates to hurt Jeb, but it will happen again. Will there be a way to deal with it? Or would it be better if they kept their distance and Jeb found someone other than him? Who would love him like he deserves it? Jeb is too stubborn and loves Saiwa too much to break up. Even if he were unhappy.

And how are they even supposed to go back to normal? Kiyoshi, Jeb and him. After all that had happened? He had that damn fake relationship with Kiyoshi to get him out of that tree because they thought Saiwa was Kiyoshi's fated mate and now Jeb and Kiyoshi live together. And there are still all the other problems he has as their leader. That they have to stay together or armageddon, Ji Ho's lost feelings, Jack's pain because he left Kiyoshi, his real fated mate. The Council. And the sword of damokles over their heads that Ji Ho's grandfather did something that let put Ji Ho a spell on Vlad to seduce him to obtain his powers for the Council... OMG! They might be safe in the Otherworld from their enemies for now but their problems are following them whereever they go. Is it even possible to go back to the real world? (Yep, that flamingo is definitely moving! ö.ö)

'Oh, my true love she was beautiful, My true love she was young; Her eyes were like the diamonds bright And silvery was her tongue. And silvery was her tongue, my boys, As the big ship left the bay She said, will you remember me Ten thousand miles away?'

Outtakes This is so annoying that there are abandoned boats on the ocean -.-You can't put them in your inventory so I let Saiwa move it behind a rock when we started this session and now it's back again!

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[piratec0ve]

(His Poison Lips) With The Metal Grip

The title makes it sound way angstier than it actually is, I promise this is almost pure fluff I just suck at coming up with titles. And I was listening to music and those lyrics just kinda made me think of the bit with the hook, and idk titles are hard man.

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: After losing power in the middle of your shift, you find yourself fleeing for your life as Foxy pursues you through the halls. But perhaps there's more to this encounter than you first realized.

Story under the cut! Also on AO3!

The posters on the walls were an incomprehensible blur as you raced through the halls, skidding on the checkered floor and nearly crashing into a wall as you slid down a corner.

You wanted to pause and catch your breath, but the faint click-clack of nails skittering not far behind had a thrill of fear skittering along your spine. Whimpering, you scrambled down the hall, turned around and unsure where you were going, just desperate to get away.

Usually when the power ran out in the middle of your shift, it was Freddy you had to worry about, the glowing eyes in the dim corridor to the side of your office eerie and haunting. You weren’t sure why tonight was different – but instead of the uncanny melody of Freddy’s familiar jingle, you heard running footsteps pattering down your hallway. Uneasy about the change, you stood from your office chair and faced the door the sound was coming from, heart racing and flashlight gripped in clammy hands.

Foxy appeared in the doorway with a screech and you yelped in alarm. You’d fumbled and almost dropped the flashlight in your panic when he lunged at you, but you just barely managed to shine the light in his eye sockets. The animatronic stumbled and seemed disoriented, joints whirring as it missed its lunge and landed a few steps short of you.

Panicked, unsure how much time that had bought you, you’d scrambled out the opposite door at your back and took off down the hallway. If you could just evade Foxy until 6 a.m., his free-roaming protocols would end and you just might survive the night.

Hearing his pattering steps rapidly gaining on you, the chances of that were looking slimmer by the second.

You skidded around another corner and froze.

A dead end.

Fuck!!

You whirled around and almost sobbed when you saw Foxy’s one glowing eye at the end of the hall, staring you down. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, you panting and Foxy unnervingly silent. He glanced slowly down at the flashlight gripped in your trembling hand, then back to you.

Shivering with nerves, you kept eye contact with him as you slowly raised the flashlight.

Your movement seemed to shatter the spell of stillness that had come over him, and he sprinted down the hallway. You were used to seeing the action on your cameras, but it was so much more harrowing when there was no door to safely hide behind.

Before you could manage to flick the button on your flashlight, Foxy was on you, batting it out of your hand harshly with his hook. You heard the plastic hit the floor and slide across the linoleum, vanishing into the dark of the hallway as the pirate loomed over you. Your stomach twisted like it was full of writhing snakes as you met his eye, his frame towering over you easily.

You saw the flash of his hook coming at you and screamed, stumbling back a step and tripping over your own feet in your panic. You scrambled away on your hands and knees, elbows banging painfully against the hard linoleum floor, but you didn’t get far before Foxy was on you.

His 6’2” frame caged you in, legs locked over your hips and arms on either side of your torso. His gaping maw was right in front of your face, giving you a horrific close up of his ragged fur and the jagged teeth in his mouth. Choking out a sob, you tried to turn away but the cool metal of his hook caught under your chin, freezing you in place.

You saw his head leaning in, coming closer to your face. Unable to turn away with his hook holding you in place, you squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to watch your impending doom come closer.

“Yer not s’posed to be here~” the gruff, pirate-accented voice of the fox crooned in a menacing sing-song right by your ear. The curved top of his hook pressed against your throat, cutting off your air and forcing you back until you collapsed underneath him. Breath hitching on another sob, you felt a few tears squeeze out from beneath your shut lids, trickling down your temples into your hair. Still, the pressure of the hook didn’t abate, and you were struggling to gasp in breaths now.

“Please—” you wheezed desperately. Forcing your eyes open, the figure hovering over you was a blur through the hazy tears clouding your vision. “Foxy please, please d-don’t—” You weren’t sure if begging would have any effect on the animatronic, but you were officially out of options.

Slowly, Foxy’s head tilted to one side as he stared down at you. The gesture brought to mind a puppy, and would almost be endearing if he weren’t pinning you to the floor, choking off your air supply. You slowly blinked the tears from your eyes as you and Foxy stared at each other, you struggling to draw in ragged gasps and shivering beneath him, and Foxy just.

Looking. Watching you.

You had no idea what was going on in his processors, no idea if he was drawing this out just to torture you or if he was genuinely hesitating to hurt you.

“Please,” you whispered again, voice cracking. His ears twitched slightly but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge you.

Suddenly, you felt furry fingers sliding through your hair, sharp claws scraping over your scalp and making you gasp, before that hand came down to rest at the back of your neck, pulling your head up slightly, forcing you to arch up off the floor towards him. At the same time, Foxy’s body bore down on yours, rough raggedy fur pressing against your arms where your uniform shirt’s short sleeve left the skin exposed. The weight of his endoskeleton did you no favors as you struggled to breathe, and you thought he’d decided to finish you off after all.

Hiccupping out a weak sob, your eyes shot back to his one visible eye, wide and unsure. Foxy leaned in again and you winced, waiting for the agony of his hook slicing you open, the sharp pain of his teeth crushing your delicate bones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, spots dancing across your vision and making you woozy.

It made you wonder if you were hallucinating when the first touch of his muzzle came.

Rather than the pain you’d braced for, it was a gentle brush of his cold metal nose against your cheek, skimming along the side of your face. The fur on his cheek brushed against your face, rough but not too uncomfortable; you shivered at the cold as his nose touched just under your ear.

He was……snuffling? Impossible, since he didn’t breathe, but that’s what it sounded like. Like he was sniffing you, taking in your scent and puffing softly.

You didn’t understand, and you were worrying that you were going to pass out when Foxy abruptly jerked back, hook leaving your throat and dropping the hand that had been supporting the back of your neck. Your head cracked against the floor as you gasped for air, half-sitting up as Foxy sat back on his haunches, glowing yellow eye never leaving you.

As you slowly caught your breath, you carefully eased away from him until your back hit the wall. You wondered what had stopped him, but the answer came in the beeping of your watch.

Salvation.

You glanced at your watch to confirm – it was 6 a.m.

Your shift was over. Somehow, miraculously, you were alive.

Slowly, you looked up at Foxy again. In the moments you’d been preoccupied, he’d gotten to his feet and was standing at the end of the hall, about to disappear around the corner. You watched him go, wondering what the hell all that had been about as your heart finally began to slow down and you caught your breath.

The lights in the hall flickered on overhead as the building came back online after losing power, and you caught sight of where your flashlight had rolled to. Shakily, you grabbed it and clambered slowly to your feet, not entirely trusting your legs to hold your weight after everything that had just happened. You carefully made your way through the halls to collect your belongings from your office, dazed and uneasy.

It was 6 a.m., so in theory you were safe, but after the night you’d had the silence of the building wasn’t very comforting. The sooner you could get out of here and be around people, the sooner you’d stop feeling like you were trapped in a dream.

As you picked your bag up from the floor where it sat against your desk, you noticed something glinting on the floor, standing out against the dirty carpet of the office.

A single silver hoop earring.

Didn’t Foxy wear silver hoops in his ears? You kept your distance from the animatronics as much as you could, but you felt sure you’d seen silver glinting in his ears through the cameras once or twice when he started to peek his head out of Pirate Cove’s curtains.

Slowly, unsure why you were doing so but unable to help yourself, you closed your fingers around the earring. The cool metal against your palm reminded you of his hook bearing down on your throat, and you shuddered, snatching your bag and shooting to your feet.

You made your way quickly out of the building, barely acknowledging the incoming day shift workers.

The silver earring tucked in your pocket seemed to carry extra weight as you made your way home, never allowing you to forget your encounter.

~**~**~**~

As always, you were back the next night. You swore to yourself that this time you’d be more careful about your power usage, not wanting another incident.

Still, you couldn’t help quickly checking all the cameras first thing, checking where everyone was. The band was still on stage – not roaming around just yet. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

You apprehensively clicked over to the camera that would show you Pirate Cove. Chills raced up your spine when you saw the curtains already open, Foxy absent from the stage.

Heart racing, you skipped to your hallway’s camera frantically muttering, “No no no, not again….come on, please,” but you barely got a glimpse of Foxy sprinting down the hall before he was at your door with that ear-piercing cry.

Yelping, you spun to face him so quickly your chair almost tipped over. Barely righting yourself before you got dumped on the floor again, you stared at Foxy with wide eyes.

His tall frame took up the entire doorway, furred fingers clutching the wall of the doorframe on one side, hook biting into the wall and tearing through the paint, leaving a gouge as he stood there. He stared at you, and even though his expression was fixed in place, you swear there was a deeper intensity in that glowing yellow eye as it fixated on you. His entire body leaned forward like he was caught mid-lunge, straining towards you.

You weren’t sure what was stopping him from completing that lunge, and like a bird caught in the gaze of a rattlesnake you found yourself unable to move as you and Foxy stared at each other, spellbound.

Slowly, his head tilted to one side again as he watched you, unblinking.

Tension was thick in the air as you waited to see what he’d do, his presence bringing back memories of last night and even without his hook restricting your airways you found yourself struggling to draw breath.

Jerkily, like he was fighting against his programming, he suddenly took a single step into the room, towards you.

Without thinking you flinched backwards, the wheels on your chair sliding across the carpet until the back slammed against your desk.

In the time it took you to blink, Foxy had closed the distance, his arms shooting to land on the desk on either side of you with a heavy-sounding clunk, once again caging you in. You stared up at him with wide eyes, nearly hyperventilating as he hovered above you, staring down at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

You could scarcely believe your eyes when Foxy slowly – jerkily and unevenly like each movement was a battle – sank to his knees in front of you. Given how big he was, it didn’t do much to lessen his height. But now instead of hovering above you, his snout was about level with your face, barely inches away. You could see the individual coarse hairs on the fur of his face, the thin scratches on the metal of his nose. You could see the slight variations of the lights in his eyes, lines of slightly darker gold in the gleaming yellow.

You were so caught up in staring at Foxy, you didn’t notice his paw coming up from where he’d planted it on the desk. You sucked in a breath, startled, when his claw slid through your hair, but he was careful. Gentle, tender almost, as he brushed the strands back, away from your ear.

You felt heat sear your cheeks as you realized what he was seeing.

His silver hoop earring, dangling from your ear. You cringed and looked away from his hypnotic gaze, pressing your lips together in embarrassment. Foxy’s hook came up under your ear, in a barely-there caress that caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin, gently touching the earring where it hooked into your ear.

thump, thump, thump, thump

Puzzled, you glanced at Foxy through your lashes despite your embarrassment, wondering what that sound was. Faint movement behind the pirate clued you in.

Was…..was his tail wagging?

No matter how nervous you felt with him so close, or how badly he’d scared you last night, you couldn’t help finding that adorable.

Nervous, but not as terrified now, you took a deep breath and straightened your spine before meeting his gaze head-on again. You lightly touched your ear, just above where his hook still hovered. “Do you want this back?” you asked him, voice coming out slightly hoarse. You chalked that up to anxiousness at his proximity, trying not to think too hard about your rapidly fluttering heart.

Foxy just stared at you, that quiet thump of his tail continuing. You felt your lips twitch in a hint of a smile and bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain it. Foxy’s head tilted the other way, reminding you again of a curious puppy, and you couldn’t help being endeared by the action.

Suddenly, Foxy leaned in and pressed his snout against you, cold nose nudging against your jaw and you shivered as he traced his way down. Slowly, carefully that muzzle went from your jaw down the column of your throat, pausing under your chin where his hook had pressed in.

His ears drooped slightly, the thump of his tail going still, as he took in the bruising he’d left on your skin. Facial expression or no, he looked positively dejected, clearly guilty about hurting you. It made your heart melt, wanting to soothe him; without thinking you reached out, resting your hands on either side of his head. Gently, you pulled him back up until he was looking at you again, though he seemed reluctant now to meet your gaze.

You ducked down and met his eye, a faint smile tugging your lips. “It’s okay, Foxy, I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. That bright yellow eye flitted back up to yours, ears pricking towards you, and your smile widened a bit. “That’s right,” you cooed, “no need to feel bad. It’s okay.” You emphasized the assurance with a couple of pets along his cheek, sliding your fingers through his fur.

The arrhythmic thumping of his tail started up again, and you couldn’t help laughing a bit as he leaned in and pressed his torso lightly against yours, rickety frame leaning into you and resting his muzzle on your shoulder. Without thinking about it, one of your hands came up behind his head and sank into his fur, lightly scratching behind his ears.

His tail began to wag faster, and he pressed harder into you, making you chuckle. So, he likes skritches. Good to know.

Charmed, you pulled back, sliding one hand down to his chest and lightly pushing. He was heavy, you had no chance of making him move on your own, but as soon as you pushed he sat back and looked at your face, tilting his head.

“I have to keep an eye on the rest of the building,” you told him. His ears drooped, head dipping slightly, and you would almost say he was pouting. Suppressing another smile, you stroked your fingers through the fur on the one of his cheeks again, giving a light skritch, and he pressed hard into the touch as he looked at you. Laughing, you dropped both hands. “Really, Foxy, I have to work,” you insisted, carefully sliding to the side so you could twist your chair around to face your desk. “But,” you added as he drooped again, “you can stay and keep me company tonight. If—if you want to, that is.” You faltered a bit on that last sentence, suddenly remembering this was an animatronic and feeling a bit silly.

But he perked right back up as soon as you said it, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret or recant the offer.

Foxy made himself right at home in your space, staying knelt on the floor and dropping his head onto your lap. As you worked through the night, flipping cameras and closing the doors as needed, you would occasionally stroke the fur on top of his head or give light skritches behind his ears, which always made his tail swish wildly and press harder against you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

You found yourself smiling more than usual during your shifts, the company making the time pass easier, and before you knew it 6 a.m. was approaching.

Foxy was reluctant to part from you, that was obvious as he jerkily rose to his feet. Tentatively, he lifted his paw and lightly set it on top of your head, stroking in much the same manner you’d gently pet his fur over the course of the night. It made you feel warm all over, your cheeks flushing under his steady regard.

Clearing your throat, you reached up to your ear and pulled off the earring, holding it out in your palm and offering it back to him silently.

Foxy stared at the earring. Then at your face. His yellow eye flickered back and forth a few time before he dropped his paw from your head to take your hand and curl your fingers closed over your earring, giving a light squeeze before he let go and turned for the door right as your watch beeped, marking 6 a.m. and the end of another shift.

You stared at the doorway for a long minute, face red and wondering if it had all been a fever dream. Then you looked down at your hand, uncurling your fingers and studying the earring glinting in your palm. Pursing your lips, you put it back in your ear and stretched, groaning as your spine crackled and popped. Sitting in one position all night hadn’t done any favors for your back, but Foxy had seemed so content, you couldn’t bring yourself to make him move.

Maybe he’d come to visit you for your next shift again. Touching the silver at your ear with a faint smile, you found yourself really hoping you would.

Yes, it was strange, but Foxy seemed to just. Want affection, and it was cute. Sweet, even, and you didn’t mind his presence now that he was no longer chasing and scaring you. Shaking your head at yourself with a wry smile, you grabbed your bag and made your way out of the building. As you passed through the main area you couldn’t help glancing towards Pirate Cove – and saw a single yellow eye peeking at you through a crack in the curtains.

Breaking into a grin you just couldn’t help, you offered a wave before making your way out the main entrance, a slight bounce in your step.

Foxy didn’t need to worry. You’d be back before long.

[homestuckreplay]

TURNTECH GODHEAD JUMPSCARE!

(page 308-312)

OH PSYCHE????

This asshole came outta fucking NOWHERE right when I was looking at a cool wizard painting on Rose's wall. Truly Dave Strider is just like his raps, always showing up where he's not wanted.

'standing around being all chill, like cool dudes are known to do sometimes' would a cool dude think this? really? I mean, as a sword owner I WILL acknowledge that slashing things with a sword is pretty cool. I bet Dave has a Wii and attaches the remote to a sword. And it's interesting that we open on an action shot of Dave, as he literally forces his way into the story and then starts attacking, compared to John and Rose being more passive.

TT: I must have a weakness for insufferable pricks. (p.63)

TG: and for that matter you should probably wash your hands of flighty broads and their snarky horseshit altogether (p.204)

Both Dave and Rose's 'wrong' names as entered by the player come from pesterlogs where they're talking about the other, which is fun. John's been part of all Pesterchum chats so far, but I really hope we get to see Rose and Dave talk soon. They're both so obnoxious in different ways I really want to see how they'll bounce off one another.

Dave just looks so EXPRESSIONLESS with no visible eyes and the tiny straight line mouth. His SUNGLASSES show more emotion than he does. I guess this is the birthday gift John got for Dave that 'touched stiller's weird, sort of gaunt face at some point.' A quick search says these are from the Starsky & Hutch movie, which I guess I'll watch soon.

As for Dave's room, there's a LOT going on. The rooms are getting progressively messier, from John to Rose to Dave, so I can't even imagine GG's. The main feature here is the turntables hooked up to various computers and gadgets in an expensive, convoluted audio mixing system. I guess this is the turntech. And the godhead is Dave with his belief that it's okay to have a dozen trailing electrical cables in his room because tripping and electrocution aren't a risk to him.

This music studio combined with the extensive record collection and the record on his shirt really gives Dave the vibe of 'guy who makes music his entire personality'. The envelopes for the Sburb beta discs are next to the turntables, but Dave recently told John he lost his copy and that 'its a stupid story and id rather not talk about it' so.... did Dave try to play the Sburb discs on the turntables or what?? And like, can we really expect smart decisions from someone who has TWO issues of GameBro on his desk?

Everything in Dave's room is held up by cinderblocks for some reason. I don't know if this is a real thing that people do or not. He's also into photography, which is a great hobby, but all his pictures are just of him which for sure loses him some Cool Points.

Dave also has a poster of the Midnight Crew, as featured in John's and our favorite website mspaintadventures.com, and his playing card suit bedsheets might be a reference to that too, so this webcomic is another shared interest of theirs. He's also kept the box from John's birthday gift, and next to the box half-inside the closet is a bottle Dave mentioned to John on page 26: 'i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here.' I really love all these nods to John and Dave's friendship scattered around the room.

[sayacas]

without a doubt, the hardest thing to do was the damp socks/busy vacation logo lol (9/10)

[snivel1]

I need to get these out of my system, so‼️‼️

Meet my ultra original Homestuck fankid!!

Dead-Eyed Cindy!

a.k.a. Cynthia Lenore!🗝️

A completely normal teenager, just like every other teen in Homestuck, trust!!🤚

More about her under the cut!!

(Note that this drawing was made when I just returned to HS and haven't yet seen some of the amazing variations of their designs here on Tumblr, so my design for Dave will probably be changed, idk)

She lived with her Big Sister, they were Strider's neighbors from a floor down

They lived in hard financial conditions, her Sister overworked herself to provide for them both and was almost never home to look after Cindy, which forced Cindy to fend for herself most of the time when she was little

She met Dave on the roof once, the meeting involved spying on his Bro and her Sister talking about some secret Older Sibling Stuff or something. It looked like her Sister was crying? Overall a pretty awkward first meeting

Cindy felt guilty often about their situation for some reason, so she helped with whatever she could in the house

But her relationship with her Sister was.. not ideal, it was very strained and painful for both of them, Cindy felt hurt from her Sister not being around much, even if she understood why that was

Even so, she still felt cared for and appreciated her Sister and her sacrifices

Cindy was bullied in school, I know, shocker, she was considered weird, dirty, ugly, scary, and was avoided most of the time. Some kids called her "Dead-Eyed Cindy", because of how her eyes resemble the ones of a dead fish, but she reclaimed that nickname for herself, because she thinks it makes her sound badass. She didn't know what friendship was supposed to be like, and convinced herself she was better off without anyone, but she desperately wanted to have real friends she could trust one day

She was very stiff emotionally when she first started chatting with Dave, but with time became more sincere and open thanks to also getting to know Rose, Jade, and John

She and Dave are both weird dead thing collectors, but Cindy prefers to collect animal bones and skulls. Their music preferences don't match like. In any form, but Cynthia greatly enjoys Dave's mixes and tunes, and always encouraged him to do more

She adores gothic rock, punk rock, heavy metal, screamo and any other "edgy" music genre you can think of

Of course she didn't have money to go to concerts and buy merch of her favorite bands, so all the posters in her room were home printed

She's all about that messy grungy look. Her hair? Intentually cut like that by herself. Smeared makeup? Her favorite style. Her clothes? Ripped and modified by herself. She wanted to ward off normies away from her this way, not caring about what other people think of her, and also just because she likes the style

She didn't like Rose's overly posh way of wording things at first(so pretentious), but they quickly clicked over shared interests in goth culture and the paranormal unknown, Cindy cares about her greatly and comforted her through the hardships Rose had to endure

Cindy didn't know what to think of Jade's strangeness and, quite frankly, didn't like her vibes at first, but warmed up to her greatly with time and really sympathized with her, Cindy really believes Jade deserves so much better, and is determined to let her know they care

John was very intimidated by Cindy at first, and Cindy assumed he just didn't like her, so she acted more coldly towards him, and it continued to be like that for a pretty awkwardly long time, but of course his dorkiness hooked her up quick, as it did his other friends, and they slowly but surely became very close; Cynthia became very protective of Egbert fast

Cindy always tries to put in work into her friendships, as she naturally doesn't want to be alone again, but also because she doesn't want her friends to feel left out or ignored, cause she knows what it's like

Which also seems like overcompensation, as she feels like she's not the best person to be around, so she tries to be helpful, even when she no longer has any mental resources for that

She had no clue about what kind of game Sburb even was, and she definitely didn't have time to ask when meteors suddenly started raining from the sky

No fucking way was she going to die if she could help it, so she fought for her and her friends' lives with all she had

How was she able to godtier and whatnot without entering the game? Beats me, you're asking as if I should know and write some good explanation for it and make it make sense🙄🙄💅 I just wanna play touoys, hope you understand💓

Cindy started questioning her identity along the way of their adventures on the meteor, and started using she/they/him pronouns

If I had to write about her relationships with all of the trolls we'd be here all day, so let me just point out the most relevant things here <3

Gamzee had a pitch crush on her, and they entertained the idea for a while, but she quickly recoiled from that when Gamzee, uh, started doing Stuff. She actively maintains friendships with Aradia, Kanaya, and Tavros, and is on good terms with Terezi, Sollux, and Nepeta. It's a bit more complicated with the others, though.. Their relationship with Karkat was very murky and tense at first, she wasn't having his bullshit, but he grew on them with time, when Cindy realized they both have similar goals and wants. She can't tolerate Eridan's bullshit and mostly avoids him, doesn't like Equius for his attitude and hates him for what he did to Aradia, Feferi.. well, they just can't find a common ground, especially because Feferi's royalty, and Cindy holds no respect for them. And Vriska.. he justifiably doesn't like her, at all, but is somewhat sympathetic of her issues.

She is a Page of Blood, and their journey of self-realization had to teach him that she can't win and please them all, that they can be their true self around her friends, and that he can also depend on others for help when she needs it

She learned to make chains from blood, his or otherwise, and use them in battle, and at their highest potential she can bind someone's body to another's and adjust what it means according to situation.

You're badly injured and there's no one else to help in sight? She can bind your body to hers and share their life essence with you, practically making it so you both share an internal system, and if she's healthy enough, then you'll be too in a second

He can drain someone's blood and give it to another if they need it, she can solidify blood inside someone's veins to make it hard to move

She can make a dying person's heart beat via a blood bind, but it's very draining for her and can be quite deadly if done hastily and improperly, and he can't do it when a body already went cold, at least they didn't learn how to, maybe with enough conviction and training she could one day🤔

Maybe with time she found even more uses and possibilities for her chains

She's a great motivator, especially if it's his friends that need morale, they always have their friends' backs

She's not a fan of being a leader, but can be if the situation calls for it

Overall, Cynthia is a person with an intimidating exterior, and warm and genuine interior!🥹

Here's the ref with both the casual fit and the godtier pajamas in full color👇

[grogusmum]

Class of 1974 Taking Chances Part 3: All In

Javier Peña X F!Reader

RATED: EXPLICIT 18+

WORD COUNT: 1800ish

WARNINGS: oral sex (f receiving) some swearing, As always, see something? Say something. Pop into my DMs and let me know so I can add anything I overlooked.

SERIES SUMMARY: Javier graduated from high school in 74', it's 1989. On a sort of whim he decides to go to his class reunion and sees his old flame, you.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Javi arrives in Vermont and is ready to take the plunge.

Part 2

Javier turns onto a dirt road, passing three large mailboxes, the faded red one has your last name and a little handprint in sky blue on it. A rippling hayfield and what has to be an ancient beech tree complete with a tire swing are to his left and an old stone wall with raspberry canes growing through it on his right. Javier can’t help but think he's entered a Norman Rockwell painting, and wonders if he's up for that, if he can fit into that. A DEA agent, who bent the rules into pretzels "to get the bad guy".

He has to take this chance; he knows he will regret it if he gets cold feet. Like last time with you and then with Loreena.

Driving past the tree, the road bends to the left and a farmhouse with an attached barn, common in New England, comes into view. A kid in overalls is in the dooryard with a black dog. He turns and calls into the house.

Then there you are, t-shirt, jeans, and tall Wellington boots, a pair of work gloves in your hand, and all trepidation washes away. Javier gets fully out of his fastback and swings the door closed. His hands settled on his belt. He looks down at his shoes and then tilts his head up a tick, his eyes raised to meet yours, eyebrows up in question.

Is this okay?

"Javi?" You ask, astonished, a smile nevertheless spreading across your face. Then you break into a run, gloves forgotten in the grass as you all but crash into him. His arms immediately wrap tightly around you; your feet leave the ground for a moment.

"You're here," you confirm, "you're h- I - wait, is everything okay?"

Your last conversations have been hard ones, Vermont and Texas are just so far, it feels more than just distance when it's not temporary. You feel it’s unfair to ask him to come to Vermont, to give up on his work and be so far from his father, and Javier knows you have a whole life here, making a living as a farmer, no easy feat these days, not to mention with a kid to raise.

"I thought we agreed long distance wasn't cutting it."

"It wasn't," Javier cups your cheek, his eyes roving your features with adoration.

"But I thought we- we decided... what's changed?"

"Me," Javier looks you full in the face, his chestnut eyes trained softly on yours. "I've changed, and I want you, wherever you are."

The corners of your eyes prickle, and you shake your head slowly in awe. Taking his face in your hands, his beautiful face, and slot your lips to his. You're glad he's got a good hold on you because your legs may never work properly again. When you finally come up for air, Javier takes his aviators off and looks at you, his eyes glassy too.

“Come on inside, let's have some lunch,” you take one of his fingers and give it a gentle tug as you lead him in the house. You give him a lopsided smile over your shoulder, and he huffs a laugh, again and again he wonders how he ever let go of you.

On the porch, you give your son, Benjamin a nod to come into the house he and Murphy the Dog, comply together.

Javier first smells the savory soup that must be on the stove. There's music playing from a radio. He takes in the house, from the outside it’s a picture of Americana, inside it's far more eclectic. The plaster walls above the wood wainscoting are painted in colors, rooms of sky blue, barn red, sage green… the floors are hodgepodge some are stained a warm honey color, while others have been painted, old folk art hook area rugs warming them up. Your love of theater, music, movies, and books is evident, from the marquee posters, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and instruments, not just an upright piano that looks like it came from a school but a guitar, ukelele, some instruments he doesnt recognize, and some kind of brightly colored hand drum beside a basket of equally colorful small percussion instruments. Then Javier remembers you saying in the winter you run a sort of music playgroup for little kids to help pay the bills.

Your kitchen is sunny yellow, large with a high tin ceiling with fans hanging down. It feels like the center of the house, it’s heart. Not only a large round scrubbed wood table with plentiful mismatched chairs, but an overstuffed armchair by a pillow covered window seat that looks like an adult could sleep on. The music is coming from a radio/turntable console that has to be from the 40’s or 50’s.

It's all exactly you, and he can’t believe this is the first time he is seeing it. Part of the reason things weren’t working probably; the plan was to save on travel by “meeting in the middle” when you could get together. Then the rest was letters and phone calls, but that at 38¢ a minute... they were not long. He needed to see your life, and you needed to see his. But he didn’t want to show you that. Sure, he gave you the broad strokes, not really wanting to get into details. Another reason… what’s that, strike two? He can't mess up the next pitch.

“You look like you see a ball and chain in the corner,” you murmur, trying to disguise anxiety with sass.

“Nope, just realizing I should have come here months ago, babydoll.”

You smile, relief in your eyes.

“This is Benji,” you say pulling your son to a side hug. Murphy starts smelling Javier, closely. “And 'nosy Joe' here is Murphy.”

“Hi Benji. Your mom’s told me a lot about you, I’m Javi.” Javier pulls back his hips protectively and gives the Labrador a hand to smell. Chuckling, he murmers, “Murphy, huh?”

“Ben,” you say, with a nod at Murphy.

“Yeah sorry, come on Murph get out of there,” your son pulls Murphy away, “Sorry.”

After grilled cheese with soup and chatting with Benji about school (it’s okay) and baseball (I can’t believe we came in third! My favorite is Boggs), Benji asks if Javi brought his gun. (Earning a stern Benjamin Oliver! from you and a wink and a nod from Javi), and you encourage Benji to show Javier the farm while you clean up.

"Sure!" The boy bounds through the house, "come on!"

Javier kisses your forehead and follows.

"You work on a ranch?"

"Mmhm, it's my father's, it's big"

"Ours is small, just a few goats, sheep, chickens... we have two horses. Mom told me you have a cattle farm"

"Yep, cows and horses to wrangle them."

"Knock, knock."

Javier is quite for a beat from the abrupt switch, then smiles-

"Who's there?"

"Impatient cow."

"Impatient cow wh-"

"MOOOOO" Benji cuts across, and Javier gives him a satisfying burst of surprised laughter. He ruffles the boy's head-

"That's a good one, Ben. I needed a good knock knock joke."

Javi brings his overnight bag upstairs. Your room is a soft coral. The bed is tall, with a whitewash spindle headboard and a crazy quilt spread, complete with a calico cat at the end of it, who looks at Javi nonplussed.

“There is a bathroom off of my room, right through the closet- yeah, old houses,” you shrug.

After putting his bag on the cedar chest at the end of the bed, Javi reels you in for a kiss.

“So did I hear Benji go outside?”

You laugh, kissing him.

“Yeah, he went over to the neighbors, I told him we needed to talk about some stuff.”

“Talking’s good. But mmm, I can think of other ways to-“

Javi's hand cradles the back of your neck as he comes in for another deeper kiss. You hum a little at the taste of his lips and his mustache's rasp. You bring your pelvis in to meet his, which is taken as a green light. With the smooth grace of someone practiced, Javi brings your shirt over your head with hardly a break in his feast on your mouth, jaw, and neck. You unbutton his shirt hastily, and not as smoothly – it's been a while, and you aren't nearly as skilled. But you are gifted a soft groaning, ‘fuck’ when you dip your head to his now bare chest, and let your teeth graze one of his nipples. Javier backs you toward the bed. When you're spread out, legs dangling off the edge, he unbuttons your jeans, peeling them off you like a present he is looking to savor, as you watch on your elbows. Your bra and underpants remain. You sit up and pull at his buckle. Javier watches you, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you work his buckle open and off, then unbuttoning his jeans. He remembers his shoes and toes them off quickly, not wanting to lose momentum. Looking at you mostly bare, soft curves, silver stretch marks from carrying Benji, just gorgeous. His head shakes almost imperceptibly, thinking about the first time you “met part way” when you weren’t in a dark cramped car, when he could see you properly for the first time in fifteen years-

“Bonita, babydoll, you’re so beautiful… the years I missed-“

“We’ve got plenty of time, Javi, plenty.”

“I wish-“

“Me too. But we are here now.”

“We’re here now.”

You tug his pants down and pull him onto you, bringing him back to the present.

Javier tucks his narrow hips between your thighs, his elbows holding his torso over you, he searches your face-

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither,” your hand goes into his hair, giving a soft tug at the curls on the nape of his neck, Javier gives a growl and kisses you hard on the lips, its teeth and tongue, nips and licks. When you give an involuntary buck, his smirk is dangerous. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes track down your body, his eyebrows quirk like he’s deciding something. Suddenly he’s off you.

“Jav, what are y-" your confused query becomes a gasp.

Javier puts his mouth on your clothed mound.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Javier’s nose nudges at your clit, making your legs quiver, then he takes the elastic of your undies in his teeth and he draws them down slowly, his fingers looping the sides to help them along.

Your chest rises and falls quickly with anticipation, as you look at the ceiling. His breath fanning over your center tells you right where he is, and then the flat of his tongue draws a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Nectar of the gods, babydoll,” Javier moans and makes a meal of you.

Your head is heavy on his chest as you doze, which is no longer tight, and your quiet snores are like music, a comforting song. The afternoon sunshine streams in the open window. He watches the curtains flutter and dust motes dance in the disturbed air, as he hears birds, he doesn’t know. He is in uncharted territory and he has no plans to fuck it up. You are his compass, and years of what not to do is his map.

Before falling to sleep, he showed you his skeletons, you know what he’s done.

You will talk more. About about him, and his work. About what life might look like up here for him, like a warning. You'll stumble over the term 'stepdad', not wanting to presume… but you need to know for Benji, if he really wants this. And he does want it-

All of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my work here and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

[beingalive1]

Bibi And Her Blue-Eyed Baby ⎯ Pt. 1

Rosie Rosenthal x Oc [Batya Bernstein]

Summary: In an attempt to escape his office and the mutterings of the war occurring an ocean away, Rosie Rosenthal hails a cab and finds himself in a dingy jazz club in downtown New York. Never did he think he'd find himself hopelessly enchanted by the jazz singer with the curly hair and white fur coat but he here he is following her outside, his legs moving on their own accord. Maybe he would see her again? Maybe he would ask her for a dance? Maybe she'd write a song for him?

Part two: Here

Author's Note: I've been hooked line and sinker with all these MOTA men and have felt the need to join the fray and write my own fic so here it is - hope ya'll enjoy x

September 5th, 1941

The dull purple glow of the club made the red lipstick placed carefully on her lips shine as she crooned into the microphone.  Many blocks away from her silver spooned upper east side apartment she knew if anyone saw her stood upon that stage swaying her hips to the music, she would never escape the judgemental gazes of the Jewish community. Batya Bernstein, twenty-one, unmarried and swaying precariously in a tight little black dress as she sang through a haze of cigarette smoke. The vague taste of a vodka soda still remained on her tongue; the drink adding to the delightful haze of her evening. 

This was downtown New York – nobody knew who she was here. 

Walking on a tightrope between never ending shame and the thrill of anonymity, Batya continued her swan song. The warmth of admiration caressed her skin like a summers ray; here she was loved and cherished for the gifts she possessed. Here she was merely a woman with an enchanting voice, not the daughter of the famous jeweller Harvey Bernstein. 

Harvey Bernstein. The prized and beloved chairman of the Park Avenue synagogue. The famed owner of Bernstein Jewels. Her father. She often wondered how a man like him could have a daughter like her. It must’ve felt rather shameful. His lack of a son and his only daughter being what many in the community dubbed as ‘wild.’ The park-avenue princess had refused every proposal he had sent her way. The only reason she had not been completely dismissed within the community was due to her quick wit, the love the rabbi had for her and the fact that her father had been the one to finance the new children’s school adjacent to the synagogue. For all her faults he did love her so, his secret Shanda singer of a daughter. 

She could imagine her papa’s face if he caught here tonight: his already greying hair would surely turn completely white at the sight of many men enthusiastically clapping along to the tune of her passionate lyrics. Her songs of melancholy and sadness set to a happy tune subdued her silent feelings of shame. Here, she was not Batya rather Bibi: the jazz singer who would frequent this club every second Saturday Night. As soon as Shabbos had come and gone, she’d greet her beloved audience with a flutter of her fingers, sing for twenty -five minutes, polish off two vodka sodas and leave before she became too memorable. 

But this night was different. 

This night she was going to be remembered. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way her lips graced the metal expanse of her microphone. How her hair began to fall out of its silken scarf prison as she sang, a rich brown curl falling in front of her face. It was if he was cast under a spell, the dulcet tones of her voice dragging him under the surface and into the smoken depths of her influence. He wasn’t meant to be here. His need to escape the overpowering mutterings of his office had caused him to lose all rational thought, call a cab, and to command the driver to take him to the best jazz club he knew. 

That’s how he ended up here.

Watching her.

He knew her from somewhere. Couldn’t tell if she resembled a girl on a war-bond poster or in a movie he had watched at some point but somehow and somewhere he had seen her before. The familiar shape of her nose, her deep brown eyes, the way she smiled as the audience applauded. He didn’t know what overcame him, a force coercing him to stand from the rickety chair at the back of the room and to follow her bewitching figure out of the club’s back door. A fur coat had been placed on her shoulders; the white material glistened in the evening moonlight. He rushed out towards her, his feet splashing against the puddled gravel of the club’s back alley. 

Her figure froze, her fur-draped shoulders tensing as she turned to face him. Her dark eyes almost glowed as she gazed upon him, a perfectly shaped eyebrow moving upwards as she took him in. His feet shifted from side to side, a nervous grin on his lips as he looked upon her. He was a never a nervous man. He had no idea why he was acting so strange; he blamed the scotch he had sipped as he watched her sing, and the empty stomach he possessed due to his rush here from work. She smirked at him. “Can I help you?” Her voice echoed through the darkened alley, the same rich tone gracing his ears as she spoke. He coughed awkwardly. A futile attempt to pull himself together with a rough hand combed through his curls does nothing to cool the slight burning of his ears. She watched the movement with a curious look upon her face: as if she was waiting for him to scare and run off like a deer in headlights. She looked amused. He coughed once more. He wasn’t the running type.

‘I..’ He began, silently cursing himself for stammering so foolishly. He was a lawyer. His mother’s pride and joy. His ma’s favourite topic over the Shabbos dinner table: boasting to her friends about how his eloquent way of speaking could convince any judge. Why he was struck silent in the presence of this woman he knew not, his lips dry as he tried to throw a sentence together. ‘I enjoyed your show.’ The eyebrow remained raised. A grin broke out upon her face, he didn’t think he had ever seen something so bright. 

Her gaze drank him in like a cool drink on a hot summer’s day. Heat flushing upon his ears as he waited for her to reply. Her mouth opened as she attempted to speak, her dark curls fluttering slightly in the breeze. He couldn’t hear what she had said in reply, the rich tone of her voice drowned out in favour of the sound of a yellow cab screeching to a halt on the pavement next to them. Her hands tightened across her coat; he spotted red nail polish painted carefully upon her fingers. It reminded him of her lipstick. Red suited her. She smiled once more, her body gliding past his own as she entered the back seat of the cab. His eyes followed her powerlessly, his hand itching to reach out and stop her. To touch her red-nailed fingers and ask for a dance.

His eyes remained on her until the cab drove away, the white coat dazzling through the rear end window of the vehicle. He never heard her reply, but he had an inkling he’d see her again. 

She refused to look back as she drove away. The urge to gaze upon him once more burned through her like an inferno as she sat comfortably on the cab’s black leather seats. His eyes had been so blue. A crystalline colour that made her skin flush when he stared at her, his full attention on her figure. She didn’t get his name, but Batya had a feeling she’d see him again.

And even if she didn’t all would not be lost. 

After all, ‘Bibi and her blue-eyed baby’ sounded like a perfect addition to her Saturday Night set list. 

Word count: 1231

Yiddish dictionary: • 'Shanda' - shame, can be used in reference to a person who makes their family feel shame • 'Shabbos' - the sabbath.

Author's Note part 2: Thank you for reading! I'm really excited to share this with you guys - been a while since I've written something so I hope you liked it, next part I think will be out in the next few days x [if you would like to be tagged in any future chapters - drop a note in the comments]

[oneforthemunny]

Always wanted to ask, how does each Eddie's house/apartment look like; where do you envision each of them living?

dom!eddie i picture living in a trailer sorta similar to wayne's. less stuff if that makes sense, since he hasn't lived there as long??? very boy decorated. mismatch, hand-me-down furniture. he tries to make it homey and tapes pictures of you and him on the wall lol. no frame, just packing tape and it's sweet and a little funny. quilts on the bed he got from wayne, posters in his room- maybe the living room. not a throw pillow in sight until you move in lol. probably like one plate, one fork, one spoon, one knife type vibe lol. very boy coded.

janitor!eddie i picture the same vibe as before (i'll call dom!eddie the default) until he moves in with you. i think it would be a small home. two bedrooms (technically three if you count the small 'office' space that you turned into a room). no garage, but he built a covering for you. it's very homey. he built shelves in the living room for all your books (i fuckin' lost the book blurb if anyone has it lol). lots of pictures on the wall, over the mantle. really just a very homey cozy vibe, and i'll leave how that looks up to you :)

older!eddie also has a house. it's not huge by any means, bigger than average. like a one story, three or four bedroom, two and a half bath kinda vibe. he got it after the divorce and he could afford it. he wanted brielle to have her own space and have some extra room for the hopeful future, and he's glad he did. probably very bare minimum as well before you moved in. like a nicer couch- no throw pillows, maybe one throw brielle bought at target, like one of those cheap ones from the $5 section lol. pictures of brielle in frames, but that's the only decor. not even a doormat. two flat ass pillows on the bed, but in nice sheets. a toothbrush holder, hand soap, and no towel on the bathroom. has a music room with his guitar and stuff, garage full of tools to do oil changes and stuff if he needs to. one half broken plastic laundry basket, and candles brielle brings home from bath and body works lol. please tell me you're getting the vibe lol.

mafia!eddie is a 180 entirely. ENTIRELY. mansion. he built it so it's new, but he wanted it to look gothic and ominous as fuck. like very unapproachable. dark exterior, steel gates at the front of the property. he bought land out in the middle of the woods in hawkins, off the beaten path for sure so you wouldn't see the entrance unless you were looking for it type? lots of dark red oriental carpets, red sheets, mahogany wood, chandeliers that are kinda dramatic and dark. all the furniture looks victorian but dark. i think it's mentioned in curiosity killed the cat that he was going for a vibe that was "a mix between dracula and the godfather" lol. large book shelves, candle opera lighting, dark grand stair well, bear skin rug (with the head bc he thought it looked sick). large, tall windows but all the glass is one way glass so it looks even freakier from the outside. very gothic victorian chic.

rockstar!eddie ok so pre-kids- he had a home in malibu, a penthouse in la. owns a couple different properties bc why not. he hired someone to decorate, but really it's like he put weird shit in there lol. like very rockstar- bachelor pad coded. like there's a fifty thousand dollar imported couch... next to light sabers on the wall that he won at a bidding bc they were used in a movie. bedroom is very... interesting lol. def has a waterbed in at least one room. has a bed post with clips for his... activities lol. probably a hook for a sex swing too. then a whole music memorabilia type room. plaques, his achievements, but also things he's collected.

tamed rockstar!eddie with kids- he lets nb decorate mainly but he also adds a few things. he designs the sex dungeon and it does in fact look like a dungeon. dramatic ass lighting, literal chain cuffs on the wall, a bed that with thick posts, mirror on the ceiling, a whole wall of toys. it's so him, like his mind. then he also has a studio in his basement. really, it started bc when he started having kids, he didn't want to leave his house. didn't want to drive into the city to record, so had one put there bc why not? he's got the $$ lol. he also gets the flowers pressed from their three weddings, the baby showers, any really big achievement- he'll get a bouquet made and pressed and preserved. nb always hangs them and decorates with them, and it makes him so proud lol.

bouncer!eddie lives in an apartment. it's very sketch, very cheap. like one bedroom, one bath, tiny ass kitchen and little living room. he literally just lives there. no personal touches beside a tv, a boombox. mattress on the ground, card table and folding chairs, leftover box as a nightstand, towel as a bath mat. he mainly stays at your place so he's not too worried about it, but the first time you come in, you're a little horrified.

cowboy!eddie- i know this is going to sound cliche but if you've ever seen the ranch on netflix lol. that's what i picture. like that wooden, ranch style house. a little older, i think it's been renovated since it was built like forever ago. small screened in porch, wooden dutch doors. a sun room in the back of the house with some house plants. an older couch and recliner, a wooden heater stove in the living room- it was apart of the original design of the house so he kept it, even with the ac/heating unit. patterned quilts on the bed, old school floral sheets that came with the house lol. really, he didn't do much to it besides add a few of his things when he moved in, because it was his grandparent's home before his.

modern!eddie had an apartment close to the park for a very small time. roomed with gareth, and then once he started staying with you, he didn't stay there anymore. probably didn't have a bed, but a futon they put in one of the rooms and had all their gaming stuff in it. he's victim of the striped, blue comforter that's faded as hell. has a rick and morty poster he put on the wall with thumb tacks. tv on the ground with his gaming stuff, wires everywhere. a closet that has shit spilling out of it. very messy lol.