#pistachio man in his pistachio shell

[seehowsupplethespineis]

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)

words: 6.7k

summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.

“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”

“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”

Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 

“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 

On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.

Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.

What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.

Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?

It was a problem with an obvious solution.

It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 

You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.

But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.

Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.

And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 

Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.

You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.

Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.

A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.

You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 

“You got a smoke?”

He cocks a brow at you.

“You want a cigar?”

“Nothing else to fucking do.”

“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “No no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”

“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.

As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.

“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”

You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.

“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”

Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.

The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.

“We could play blowjob roulette.”

It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”

“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”

Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?

Because the other option is he’s serious.

Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.

“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”

“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.

“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”

He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 

“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 

He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 

He’s going to say fine.

Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.

“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”

“No, guys - look!”

They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.

“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”

You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.

“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”

Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.

“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.

You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.

Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.

Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.

“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.

“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”

As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.

“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.

Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.

Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.

A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?

Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 

Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.

“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 

“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 

���Baby’? Where did that come from?

Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.

Oh well, no time to dwell.

Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 

The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.

Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!’ as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.

Okay, time to close.

You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.

A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.

“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.

You look at Logan.

He looks at you. 

Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…

And then you’re on fire. 

Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.

There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.

You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.

Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.

Oh no. Something is wrong.

When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you��� and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.

You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.

Logan is the one to break the silence.

“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.

“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 

Damn. This is bad. 

“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 

You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.

A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.

“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.

“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”

“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.

“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”

Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.

“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”

Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.

“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”

Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 

“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”

Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 

“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”

“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”

Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.

The unspoken answer sinks in.

“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”

Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.

Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.

Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.

“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”

That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.

“Wade…”

As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 

“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”

Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.

“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”

Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.

“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.

“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 

He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Can I?”

Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.

You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.

“Wade?”

“Mmm?”

“Ask me properly.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.

“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”

You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.

Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.

“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.

“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.

Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.

Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.

“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.

“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 

“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.

He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…

Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.

Oh god, you’re not done.

Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 

“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Wade, I need you.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”

Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—

And freeze when you see you have an audience.

Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.

“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.

“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.

“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 

“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.

He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.

“You want me to, baby?”

Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.

“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 

“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.

“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).

You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.

“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.

He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.

“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”

Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.

“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”

“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 

“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”

Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.

“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.

“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”

Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.

“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.

“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 

“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”

Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.

“I’m gonna move now.”

He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.

Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.

Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.

“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”

You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.

“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”

“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.

“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”

Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 

“And what if I do, Red?”

Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.

“Wait, what? For real?”

“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”

The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 

They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.

For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.

“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”

Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.

“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”

Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.

Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.

“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.

“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.

“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”

“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”

Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.

“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”

“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 

You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I had this pistachio cake and it was so good. I didn't know what else to put here but yum.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re shaking, barely able to keep your legs from collapsing beneath you. Even with Bucky’s arm around you, you’re weak. His confidence makes you feel even smaller; reminds you of who and what you really are. You’re not this. You’re not arm candy. You’re not some gorgeous supermodel. You’re just you. 

As you get to the end of the hall, you face the elevator and wait. His large hand squeezes your hip and he draws you even closer. He surprises you with a peck on your head. A thrill flows through you. 

“I’m the luckiest guy in this casino, baby,” he purrs and urges you through the doors as they open. 

You gulp and lean back into his arm as you step on, the transparent walls peering down on the drop. You try not to look and put your hand over his. You cling to his fingers and close your eyes, dizzy from the descent. 

“Ah, I forgot, doll,” he holds you even snugger, “Don’t worry, I got you. You stay close to me, alright?” 

“Okay,” you wisp out as the motion of the elevator adds to your displacement. 

When at last you reach the bottom, you nearly wriggle right out of his hold. He keeps you firmly against him and struts off with you at his side. He releases you only to hook his arm through yours. You cling to him if only to keep from tripping in the heels. 

You look down at yourself, recalling your attire as you pass a mirrored wall. You barely recognise the woman and yet it’s you. The make-up isn’t too heavy, your hair is perfectly done, and despite your frightened expression, you look good. Better than ever. Well, anything is an improvement over your typical aesthetic. 

You pass through the hotel lobby into the main room of the casino. The ringing of machines and flashing lights stun you. He stops with you and raises his chin proudly. To him, it’s just another night. For you, it’s a night you won’t ever forget; one you’ll never know again. 

“All of this is ours, doll,” he says. You wince at that word; ‘ours’. It’s a fantasy, he knows it. It must be what he tells all his women. 

You can only let a jitter shake you. He continues on and you follow. The chaos of the casino has you senseless. You drift through like his shadow as he pulls you along.  

Yet, you notice that you are not unseen. You feel the eyes all around you, you see them. Necks crane, bodies twists, and lips whisper. You’re overly aware that they’re watching you. No, they’re watching him. 

You feel ice form a shell over you. You numb yourself to it all as best you can. If you let yourself feel the storm brewing inside you, it will surely blow you over.  

Bucky stops you and winks at you. He reaches to rub your hand on his forearm and gives a squeeze, “relax. I got you. You trust me, don’t you?” 

You exhale and nod, “yes.” 

“Alright, then, doll,” he pulls his arm back and puts his hand on the small of your back, “let’s go.” 

He walks you along, a casual pace. The looks continue. People acknowledge him as he passes, the bartender calls him sir and several other staff. He approaches a table and you steel yourself nervously. Men in suits chuckle loudly as dice are thrown against the trim. 

“Stark,” Barnes stops beside a man with grey patches at his temple, “you didn’t bring your own dice again, did you?” 

“They searched me on the way in. What’s that about?” The man snickers, “but I see you get to bring your own toys.” 

The man makes a show of looking around Bucky, leering at you. Bucky pushes him straight by the chest, “never had any problem finding something to play with.” 

“Ah, don’t be so sensitive. Your girls are always so much fun,” the man, Stark, taunts. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, that goes for the staff too,” Bucky warns. 

“Wow, have you demoted yourself to bouncer now?” 

“These are my people, Tony,” he claps the man’s shoulder, “consider it a friendly reminder. I know you tend to forget.” 

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes. He takes the dice as they’re held out to him and tosses them onto the felt. Bucky tickles your lower back with his finger and you squirm, elbowing an unexpected figure behind you. You let out a squeak and turn as Bucky does the same. 

“Hey,” a skinny man, not much taller than yourself greets, “been looking for you.” 

“Steve,” Bucky says, “what’re you doing here?” 

“Ah, you know,” he scratches his floppy golden hair, “you haven’t picked up your phone so--” 

“Shoot, what’s the date?” 

“Buck, it’s tomorrow,” the blond, Steve, grins, “I’m just making sure you show up. Ma would be real disappointed.” 

“I wouldn’t miss Sarah Rogers’ birthday for anything,” Bucky avows, the genuine tone in his voice wrenching at your chest. “You gonna stay and enjoy the tables? You still got your complimentary chips waiting on you.” 

“Told ya, I don’t like to gamble,” Steve chuckles, “but thanks.” 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I should’ve picked up. I’ve been so busy...” Bucky pauses as Steve smiles at you sheepishly as if he’s only just noticed you.  

“I get it,” Steve’s lashes flick, “she’s... miss, you’re real pretty.” 

He sounds as nervous as you feel. His cheeks tinge pink and he tucks his thumbs into his pockets. His brown slacks definitely don’t fit into the sparkling casino. Bucky laughs too. 

“Chill, have a drink at the bar before you go.” 

“Thanks, pal,” Steve smooths back his hair, “but I should probably head out--” 

“She don’t bite, Rogers,” Bucky chides, “well, I’ll tell her to keep her teeth to herself,” he rubs your back and slips his fingers around your side, pulling you close once more. “Have a drink for me, alright?” 

“Alright,” the smaller man exhales, “don’t forget.” 

“I won’t,” Bucky promises. 

As the blond strides away, slightly off kilter as he looks around, seeming lost as he tries to see around the people around, Bucky draws you away from the dice table. The small man reminds you a lot of yourself in some ways. He’s braver than you, he came all alone. 

“That... who?” You wonder. 

“My best friend. Since we were kids,” he answers, “good guy, just a bit... uppity. His ma’s got her birthday tomorrow. You should come.” 

“Oh, uh, that’s... I don’t know--” 

“She’ll be happy to meet ya. She’s been telling me to settle down for years,” he scoffs. “Her son too and he does try...” 

“Well, this isn’t.... it’s early--” you stammer. 

“You still don’t believe me,” he challenges you as he angles you to face him. He brings his hands to your arms, stroking the bare skin with his roughened fingertips, “you don’t think I’m gonna keep ya, doll?” 

“No, I didn’t-- I don’t know. It’s all so new and—I'm sorry, Bucky, I want to—I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know--” 

“Shhh, doll, I’m not mad. I got work to do. That’s fine,” he trails his fingers up the strap of your dress and tickles your throat, “I’ll keep it up, don’t you worry. Let’s get ya a drink.” 

He walks you to the bar, laying his hand on the top as the bartender crosses to him attentively. Bucky pauses before he orders and looks at you, “ladies first. What do you want, doll?” 

You look between Bucky and the bartender. You have no idea. You weren’t planning on drinking, you’re already a mess as it is but you don’t want to be rude. 

“You like cranberry, doll? How about a cosmopolitan?” Bucky suggests. 

You nod and face the bar again, “sure, uh, please, a cos...” 

“Cosmopolitan, coming up,” the bar tender agrees, “usual, sir?” 

“Single,” Bucky holds up a finger, “I wanna keep my wits about me.” 

The bartender sets to work and you fidget. You crane around to see the rest of the casino, a furor rising from the blackjack table. Bucky rubs your arm and draws your attention back to him. You give a nervous smile as you try not to think about those watching you in turn. 

“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly as he brings a finger up under your chin, “the only thing that matters is us, doll.” 

Before you can react, he leans in to kiss you. You’re caught entirely off guard, trapped in his snare as his tongue glides along your lips. He hums and pulls back, dropping his hand with a sigh. 

“I gotta get a hold on myself,” he laughs as he shows his palm, “you make it hard, doll. You really do.” 

You rock and smile bigger. Your cheeks are fiery and your temples are pounding. The bartender announces your cocktail and puts it up. Bucky takes it and hands it to you. You thank him as he turns to retrieve the short tumbler of flat whiskey. 

“Go on, have a taste, doll,” he encourages as he gives a gentle tap to the base of the stemmed glass. 

You look down at the coned glass of vibrant red liquor and juice, a twist of lemon against the brim. You raise it cautiously and give a sniff before you press your lips around the glass. Your eyes flick up as Bucky lets out a rumble. He fixates on your mouth as you sip, his teeth graze over his lower lip. 

Your cheeks pinch as you taste the mixed drink and you pull it away from your mouth. You dab your lips with your knuckles, terrified of smearing the gloss. You flutter your lashes at him and force another tight smile, “mm, it’s... sweet.” 

“Dangerous,” he smirks, “I don’t do cocktails. They go down to easy.” 

“Oh,” you give a guilty pout. “I don’t...” 

“It’s fine, it’s not that much,” he waves off your excuse, “really, doll, you could use it. It’ll help you relax.” 

“Right, er, thanks,” you slowly turn the stem between your fingers and look down at the glass. “I’m sorry I don’t...” 

“Hm,” he shifts closer as your voice drifts off, “sorry for what, doll?” 

He nudges you smoothly away from the bar, putting you back into step as he casually traverses the floor, his hand right on your back. He guides you subtly with the constant warmth between your hips. It is both comforting and disjointing. He’s there with you, propping you up, and yet you do not belong. 

“I don’t really fit, er, or... know what to do,” you murmur. 

He leans in to hear your small voice. He scoffs. 

“Let me tell you something, doll. You fit just nice on my arm. You don’t need to worry about anyone else but me, you got it? All these people in this room, they’re nothing. All these lights, all this noise, and I can only see you,” he purrs. 

You giggle nervously. He’s so flattering. He always knows just what to say.  

“Thanks, I...” you look away, embarrassed at your little confession. You’re supposed to be trying to blend in and yet you can’t help but put yourself on the sideline. He’s not the type. He is the main attraction. 

“You feel better, doll?” He asks as he rubs the dip of your back. “If it’s too much, we can go somewhere else.” 

“I’m... I’m good. I don’t wanna ruin the night,” you say, “really.” You raise the glass and sip again, “it’s really good, thank you, Bucky.” 

“Mph, I love it when you say my name,” he snarls, “come on.” 

He continues along, guiding you between tables and behind distracted bodies. The tables are packed with gamblers and figures pass from one to one, a line forming around the counter dolling out chips for cash. You take it all in, as if it’s a scene in a movie, observing all the background characters... still, you don’t feel like the star. 

A sharp pain strikes your arm suddenly and you stumble into Bucky. He keeps you from teetering onto your ass as he hugs his arm around you. Your cocktail slips out of your grasp and the glass cracks on the floor, splashing the remnants across the carpet.  

You’re pressed into Bucky as the unstable man latches onto the tall stool he just slid off of. The impact of his elbow thrums in your arm and you rub the tender spot and wince. Bucky shifts you behind him and moves as fast as a shadow. The back of his dark jacket strains across his shoulder blades as he grabs the man by his collar. 

“Hey, what the hell are ya doing? Watch yourself! You nearly knocked my woman over,” he sneers as he as good as shakes the man, “you made a mess of my carpet, you scumbag.” 

“Bucky,” you squeak in horror, the hot eruption of rage surprises you. He is a different man; he looks more like a wolf as he snarls at the offender. “It was an accident--” 

“Nah, it was a mistake,” Bucky brings the man even closer, “get the hell outta my casino before I break you like that glass.” Bucky shoves him away and kicks the broken glass on the floor, “now.” 

He puffs his chest out as the other man rambles drunkenly, apologising and staggering, skittering off in an uneven gait. He glances back several times as if fearing he’ll be followed. Bucky signals across the room and you see a man in a suit nod; he must be security. 

“Bucky,” you touch his elbow and gently graze his sleeve down to his hand, “are you okay?” 

He opens his fist and lets you tuck your hand into his. You’re quaking again. You cling to him out of need. You’re adrenaline rings in your ears. You don’t like anger. 

“I’m sorry--” 

“Don’t be sorry, doll,” he squeezes your hand as he exhales the tension from his shoulders. He looks down at your hand and lifts it, turning to you as he kisses the back of it. He leaves a tingle on your skin, “I like that.” He tightens his grip as he keeps a hold of you, “you need a fresh drink, doll.” 

[rebornofstars]

Cracking open pistachios (the bestest of best snacks) and thinking of Grandpa Wind struggling to pry the shells apart and having to ask one of the Chain for help and then they won't let him live it down because he got so mad that the Old Man Fingers wouldn't let him eat his pistach >:) It made more sense in my mind lol

unfortunately, i don't eat pistachios, so i cannot relate to your pain 😔

"What are you doing?" Legend asked. Wind snarled indistinctly. "Suffering." "What?" "I'm suffering." "He's suffering," Wild repeated, a grin in his voice. "C'mon, keep up, vet." "Do you need..." Legend paused. "Help?" Wind turned on him with a look of utmost fury. Wild snickered. Legend raised an eyebrow. "...Yeah," Wind admitted, deflating. He thrust out a hand. "I can't open my pistachios." "You must have gotten arthritis in your old age," Wild said unhelpfully, as Legend took the little nuts in his hand and surveyed them with an expression of extreme bewilderment. "For the last time," Wind said. "I'm not old. And I definitely don't have arthritis." It wasn't even a lie. "Well, what's wrong, then?" "My fingers are too big," Wind grouched. "Too big?" Wild echoed. "What does that even mean? Too big?" "Yeah, too big," Legend said, thrusting the handful of now-shelled pistachios back at Wind. Then he added spitefully, "c'mon, keep up, Cook."

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Tattletale nodded, “Faultline’s crew does anything short of murder.  You can say her personality sucks, you can say her powers suck, but I’ll admit she’s very good at finding hidden strengths in the people that work for her.  See those two guys?  When it came to powers, they got a bad roll of the dice.  Became freaks that couldn’t hope to pass in normal society, wound up homeless or living in the sewers.  There’s a story behind it, but they became a team, she made them effective, and they’ve only messed up one or two jobs so far.”

5.1 is a pretty textbook exposition chapter, get a round-up of all the other baddies we haven't met yet, get the shape of the villain scene for Brockton Bay - these are the guys that Skitter and Friends are going to be taking on, over time, one by one, or just about.

So as a chapter, it is a bit dry, but it's dry with purpose, and it's good to have a bit of a slower bit, and it's not so dry it feels too lecture-y.

Plus, the earlier bit where Coil walks in (is that a body double? I feel like I read that was a body double somewhere? Like, he has his two-timelines ability and all, but even if he's just staying home doing paperwork in one timeline, if he decides to collapse the paperwork timeline... that paperwork needs to get done again. That's actually got to be annoying as fuck, doing the paperwork twice.

And this is the man who wanted to have like three or four jobs by the end? Coil, PRT director, secret ruler of the city and he's a CEO of something, right? Man, Thomas Calvert things both big and incredibly small. If he wasn't, like Kaisar, so monofocused on one city he could still have a great deal of money and influence across more than that.

Of course, that may be while Cauldron was cool with him having a vial, knowing he'd just focus on one city. Does Cauldron manipulate things to tend to make more villains focused on one locale rather than trying to operate over a broader space?

Another group arrived, and it was like you could see a wave of distaste wash over the faces in the room.  I had seen references on the web and news articles about these guys, but they weren’t the sort you took pictures of.  Skidmark, Moist, Squealer.  Two guys and a girl, the lot of them proving that capes weren’t necessarily attractive, successful or immune to the influences of substance abuse.  Hardcore addicts and dealers who happened to have superpowers. Skidmark wore a mask that covered the top half of his face.  The lower half was dark skinned, with badly chapped lips and teeth that looked more like shelled pistachio nuts than anything else.  He stepped up to the table and reached for a chair.  Before he could move it, though, Kaiser kicked the chair out of reach, sending it toppling onto its side, sliding across the floor. “The fuck?” Skidmark snarled. “You can sit in a booth,” Kaiser spoke.  Even though his voice was completely calm, like he was talking to a stranger about the weather, it felt threatening. “This is because I’m black, hunh?  That’s what you’re all about, yeah?” Still calm, Kaiser replied, “You can sit in a booth because you and your team are pathetic, deranged losers that aren’t worth talking to.  The people at this table?  I don’t like them, but I’ll listen to them.  That isn’t the case with you.”

Ah yes, the most pathetic villains canon ever gave us. Though wtf is this Moist guy? He's never been mentioned anywhere in fic or on reddit. I know about Mush and Trainwreck being Merchants, but who is this guy?

Though is this Skidmark being more presentable than usual, or does his usual reputation for being super filthy and whatnot just standard flanderization? Is it based on much more than this?

Also, really, Skidmark. Really? That the best name he could come up with?

[hardtofindeggs]

cw: mentions of su!c!d3 and drinking

You never hated your job, per se- rather the repetitive nature of it. The same customers, same music, same drink orders over and over again. On the rare occasion you’d get a fresh face in the bar, you’d find them taking a glance around quickly before they turn to leave without a second thought. You couldn’t blame them. Not really, anyhow. The dimly lit dive bar your parents had left you before they’d killed themselves wasn’t the most appealing.. neither were the regulars you served if you were being honest with yourself. Small time villains committing small time crimes to get their fifteen seconds of fame. They’ve been coming here since before this bar was yours; back when you’d just sit on the corner stool and try to create a house and garden with your Etch A Sketch that the arsonist had gotten you for your 7th birthday. You didn’t have the heart to revamp the one place they relied on for consistency. Stability.

So you kept it that way. Peeling posters, cheap booze, broken jukebox and all! You tried your best to remain okay with the lack of change. You tried your best to not get your hopes up when a man with a tattered leather jacket came through the creaking door. Or when he walked in past the broken jukebox. Or when he sat.. he sat down?

“Whatever beer you grab first is fine,”

You stare at the scarred male that sits in front of you as he flicks pistachio shells across the bar top, before you snap out of your short daze and grab a cold chuhai from the short fridge that faces your knees. The man eyes the lemony beverage before finally making eye contact with you for the first time in the seven minutes he’s been here. And wow are his eyes blue. Almost comically blue. The type of blue you’d see tinted on a Sonic shirt. Waving the drink in front of you, he speaks,

“You couldn’t have at least passed me peach or grape?”

You tear your eyes away from his and begin mindlessly, almost automatically wiping down the dark mahogany table in between you both and you snicker,

“You did say whatever I grab first is fine,”

“I did.. but I was hoping with the way you’re into me right now you’d have put a little effort in to grab my attention,”

“Oh, I think I grabbed it just fine,” you quip back and snap your eyes to meet his sunken ones. You might be hallucinating here but is he.. smirking?? You keep the little staring competition between you both going until you watch him separate from your daring glare to crack open his drink and gulp some down before placing it back onto the scratched up wooden table.

You don’t move away from him- observing as he fishes through his thin pockets and places 100 yen in front of you before he gets up to leave. Walking away, you hear his raspy voice utter one last sentence,

“Cool place you’ve got here,” the door creaks open and shut behind him.

[electrospherevaults]

Sorry About The Inconvenience

[Find other stories from the 2024 Friday Writing Challenge here]

The sun went out one day. Woke up one morning and it was nowhere to be found. You would think that the winter solstice would have something to do with that, but it was eleven in the morning by the time you checked again, and there was still no sun climbing over the horizon. The streetlights down the road were out too and everyone was walking about in flashlights and phones. It could not have been a solar eclipse either; there had been no warning for one, and most importantly – they do not last this long.

Maybe it was better to just admit that the sun, simply, had disappeared.

But it is not fair to say it disappeared. Stars go out all the time; such is theorized in deep fields of academia whose job is to look at the stars all night long. “Must be nice for them now,” mom said, “they can work during the day too.” You nodded and got out in the street, because, truth be told, you did still have that telescope stashed away in the garage, under a bunch of cobwebs and cardboard boxes labelled with letters you did not remember writing. It was a gift from her, acquired for your seventh birthday. You liked to gaze the stars that night, and then you kept it as an heirloom of their kindness for the next thirty-forty odd years. And now that it was properly unwrapped from plastic sheets and set up again for the first time in decades, you got it set on the stars blinking overhead, all in an effort to find the star that blinked closest to us.

The neighborhood soon started to gather around. Maurice was there, of course; he always claimed to be an expert in matters of the moon and the sun – neither to be found at the present moment. He chased eclipses around the world, successfully attending several, and he was near certain this was not one of them.

You shrugged. You would hope so. You could not imagine a world without light. You recalled mom’s plant by the windowsill; she had it for eleven years now. She loved her little dude so much. It kept her company as she worked from home on the sunny days and the rainy days and even the stormy ones. Those were the worst as the internet would cut out and make her upset over her inability to understand that you could not, in fact, slap the router to make it work again. Because it did not work like the old boxy cable television. No, a kick worked better.

“And you think we will find it again?”

Old-man Jenkins and his wife, Martha, joined you the next day, who taught in the primary school up until twelve years ago and now tried to enjoy a mostly-retired life. He still carried with him a fascination for space that most old men his age harbored from when they had witnessed the moon landing as kids. It was charming to listen to him talk about the reverence he held and still hoped to pass onto others-

“Also you call this a bean dip? It barely has any BEANS!”

-even if his grumpy ways got worse with his old age. You sighed. The bean dip had no beans because it was not a bean dip. It had lentils. You still could not understand how the old man confused the two.

“I still do not understand why you don’t cook something simple for once,” Jenny, from accounting, added; an old friend, an older crush, and an even older thorn in your rear.

“Well, they are healthier,” you argued, tossing another pistachio shell over the rooftop. Only half the houses now had lights on, even if it was merely noon. The electrical company was reported to have been unable to cope with the sudden demand, and a blackout had been hastily and unexpectedly scheduled. Meanwhile, mom had bought a generator on a whim last summer after that horrid thunderstorm had smitten the neighborhood. This was now the only house with a lamp turned on. And, as an added bonus, it had a premium view to the stars above too.

The balcony was spacious enough to hold a black metallic table with a white marble top and some fancy black metallic chairs (a gift from Grandma Nia that your parents could not keep in their tiny apartment anymore). It had to be pushed back to the wall, and old-man Jenkins and his wife, Martha, sat patiently, waiting for their turn to look through the telescope. Jenny was the one using it now. She looked curiously, her eyes filled with wonder; it had been long since a genuine smile like that had been painted over her face. And one of frustration too; the big guy was nowhere to be found. She argued you had not set the telescope right. She left after she stole a platter of bean dip with her, which you still argued was made of lentils and should not be called one.

She would be back the day after tomorrow as it was now the weekend and the sun was still to be found. Old-man Jenkins and Maurice had been exchanging theories all night long – a considerably longer time than one would believe given how long this night had already lasted. Once the battery drained out, they would pop in a new one with their freshly brewed coffee and exchange more ideas on what happened to our sun. Maybe it was stolen actually, and aliens held it hostage. Maybe it blew up and this was the afterlife. Maybe it just dimmed.

“Why would it dim, dimwit?”

“Well,” Maurice argued back, sipping his espresso, not realizing the clock said it was supposedly two in the morning, “ever heard of a white dwarf?” Old-man Jenkins nodded. “Ever seen one up close?” Old-man Jenkins now shook his head. “Me neither! So we COULD be witnessing a white dwarf now!”

Old-man Jenkins delivered a slap to Maurice’s head. It landed with the same thud Maurice dropped his piece of wisdom – very loudly, and without a hint of intelligence behind his actions.

“And you’re telling me these two come and bicker every day at your place?” Jenny asked bemusedly.

“Yep.”

“Are you that starved for miscommunication?”

“Beats thinking about anything else, really.”

She sipped on her cup of tea and nodded. It had not taken too much fiddling to position the telescope right actually back on the first day, nor did it take too much guesswork to realize where it should have been pointing. A hazarded guess was that the sun would actually still be out there, but that it just happened to be completely dim.

Instead, there was nothing to be found, no matter the time of the day.

You sighed as you leaned over the edge, letting the nightly breeze wash over you once more. A lone telephone pole stood across the street, and a single light was open. People walked around with flashlights on; from phones, from torches attached to the belt or the hat. Some braver ones attached them to their front pockets of their shirts, but soon realized that they were too small and would fall on the ground. One such pocket torch fell with a particularly loud crack, like a mirror shattering. The expletives were plenty. Jenny chuckled as she slid next to you.

“At least,” she said, turning herself around and looking back up to the night sky, “it is pretty.” You turned to look with her. Thousands of millions of billions of stars overhead – all blinking in and out of existence.

You blinked back to earth. There was a man in an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit standing underneath the telephone pole. He carried a briefcase. He kicked his feet on the ground and he started walking forward, crossing the street and making his way to the other side.

To your house.

To your door.

The man in the orange jumpsuit arrived at the front door. You all watched him from the balcony, ringing the same bell that had a clear label stating it was out of service repeatedly.

“Think he wants you?” your mom asked.

“I mean,” you replied, “nobody else lives here. Would be weird if he rang the wrong person.”

“Should we go downstairs about it then?” Maurice asked.

Old-man Jenkins slapped him on the back of his head again. “What, you eager to be on the headlines first thing in the morning tomorrow? Local dumbass opens door to stranger, six dead, killer at large?”

You shrugged. “Beats staying in the dark about it.”

“EXCUSE ME!”

Everyone looked down. The man in the orange jumpsuit had a longer face than you would expect one man to have. “Will you let me in?” he asked again, gentler this time.

“Why?”

“I am a representative of the Sunlight Company!”

“The what?”

“He means the electrical,” mom explained.

You turned back again down. “I paid it yesterday!”

The man checked again. “No, it says you have not.”

“Are you sure you got the right building?”

He looked around, without a flashlight. He seemed to know what he was doing. “No!” Evidently, he was not. “Everything looks the same to me.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.” He looked again back on his paper. “Are you Mister Jonathan Harry Klinger?”

“Th-the President? No, he’s at the capital!”

“Well… This is addressed to you still, sir.”

“Are you sure you’re not pulling our leg?”

“I… cannot? I am on the ground and you are upstairs.”

You took a step back. Everyone followed suit. You stared at each other, looking expectantly at one another for answers.

“I think we should give him a chance,” mom argued. You turned to look at her with a side-eye. “He looks like an honest young man, but just a little confused.”

“You do not look human,” mom said later as she opened the front door. You held a rolling pin, whilst Jenny held a pitching fork. Maurice had grabbed a frying pan. And old-man Jenkins had his revolver on hand; his wife, Martha, carried it for him in her purse.

The man in the orange jumpsuit grabbed his face in a moment of panic, fixing up a wrinkle in a hurry. Had you seen him, you would have believed he had left his zipper down. “I am sorry about that; company policy, but they do not invest in proper critter generators.”

“I understand,” you lied through your teeth, loosing the grip on your rolling pin. There was a hint of truth, however; you had done customer support in the past, you can relate to a man struggling with a confused customer that made contact with a piece of technology they had no interest in understanding.

“So,” the man in the orange jumpsuit began. “Your planet has been overdue in its payment, so we had to turn the lights off.”

“And how much is the damage?”

The man in the orange jumpsuit who desperately tried to keep his legs straight and together looked back into the piece of paper. He turned to look back to you. “Oh I assure you, there is no damage! The star has simply been stored in a temporary pocket dimension until the rent has been paid back in full, along with interest. Thusly,” he took a breath and a quick glance on the paper; old-man Jenkins, who had graded many students in the past, would have failed him. “You owe the Company 314’496 Units.”

“Oh, that does not sound good dear,” your mom said as you ruffled through your wallet. Instead, all you had was a couple dollars and a dollar store coupon.

“How much is that in human money?” you said as he took a fancy calculator out next.

“What is your currency called?” he asked you back.

“Dollars.”

The man in the orange jumpsuit sighed with a gravelly voice; if you had not been observing his mouth, you would easily think it was a lawn mower revving up to go at full speed for an early and refreshing five in the morning lawn mowing that was specifically aimed to get you up and running on a Sunday. “There are twenty-five types of dollars in your planet.”

“American,” Jenny added.

The man contorted his face into a smile now. It seemed genuine enough for you to return the gesture. He seemed pleased with himself for getting the expression right this time. He pressed a few more buttons, and a few more raggedy clanking sounds came out, and the calculator spat out a piece of paper; a receipt that the man in the orange jumpsuit handed to your hands.

“Your rent is 78 cents in American Dollars, sir.”

You stared back at the man in the orange jumpsuit. You reached into your pocked and picked up some spare change you still happened to have from the kebab shop you visited earlier. You handed them over to him without counting. He was surprised, astounded even, much like a child whose father shows him how multiplication works.

“We are terribly sorry about the inconvenience,” the man in the orange jumpsuit added, handing you back the leftover change. You insisted on him keeping these coins, for his hard and meticulous work. You hazard, at least, that such work is hard and meticulous, and possibly arduous. “Your star will be back tomorrow.” The man in the orange jumpsuit left. You all turned to look at each other in disbelief, and next thing you know he was truly gone. He could not have turned right nor left without being still visible. Maurice sat down by the nearby chair.

“Screw the sun,” he said, plucking out his pin from his jacket. “Aliens are real…”

He departed soon thereafter, after old-man Jenkins and his wife, Martha, had left first. Jenny was the last one left. “You think this man in the orange jumpsuit was honest?”

“Well,” you said, “he only cost me eighty cents or so.”

She chuckled. “See you tomorrow morning.”

You went back to sleep. It was four in the morning.

Three hours later, sunrays hit your eyes through the blinds – and you had to wake up for work.

[nanaooyoo]

txt yeonjun oneshot

Yeonjun misses you while out at the bar with his friends but can’t quite get himself to buck up and apologize. Just a short blurb that feels like being dropped into the middle of a story. Lmk what you think (good or bad haha). Anyways enjoy ✨

warnings/headsup: vague description of oral sex • mild suggestive material • alcohol • swearing • unspecified verbal altercation • maybe what yeonjun did was bad maybe it wasn’t idk • light proofread • fem leaning but gender neutral reader • sprinkle of angst • sort of reformed fboy!yeonjun • 1.8k words

Untitled: Yeonjun x Reader pt. I/I

“I should call them.” Yeonjun says, puffing out his cheeks as yet another pint of beer is placed on the table before him.

The white frothy foam bubbles over, making a small mess on the table. Almost gummy rings of semi evaporated alcohol adorn the dark wood of the table, along with many a discarded pistachio shell and what he thinks are the papery remains of some peanuts. He can’t really remember. His vision isn’t perfect but he can see semi clearly. It’s his mind that’s clouded the most at this point in the night.

Yeonjun sits slumped in the corner of the local dive bar in the seat of a squeaky red leather booth, stuck between two of his other tipsy friends. The faded material of the seats has been receding from its frame for many years and now the young man can’t help but think of that one ruby colored mini skirt you no longer wear because it “rides up to much”. Just as this place refuses to get rid of these squeaky old booths, you won’t get rid of that skirt for some reason. You’re always so stubborn, so sentimental… somehow, and always at the exact same time. He hates that about you… he hates it sometimes. Yeonjun toys with the wrinkling upholstery of the booth, poking and prodding at it absentmindedly with his index finger much like he used to poke and prod at the hem of that stupid red skirt you won’t just give away.

“Call who?” Hueningkai asks pulling Yeonjun out of his spiral for a minute.

Yeonjun huffs, a tuft of his messy black hair flying up and subsequently landing right back into his face. He pouts a little, ignoring the question.

Without missing a beat Taehyun replies for him as he slides into the empty spot on his sullen friend’s right side. He turns his body away from the small group as he watches Soobin and Beomgyu chat up some sorority girls by the jukebox. “That one kid he’s been talking to. The one he’s been hooking up with for a while now... I forget their name”.

“That really narrows it down…” Hueningkai jokes adjusting his posture to the other side of Yeonjun.

“For your information!” Yeonjun says sitting up a bit straighter and then immediately slumping back down “not that it matters to you two idiots, but I’ve only been talking to one person this past month. They’re… cool or whatever”.

“Just one?” Kai laughs “are you sure you aren’t just telling them that”?

Yeonjun picks up a discarded pistachio shell and throws it in Kai’s direction. “Yes I’m sure!” He sloppily balls up a fist pretending to wind it up at his friend like a much drunker much skinnier popeye. “We have a thing… going on, it’s special.”

“Fucking someone in your car every Wednesday night after class isn’t exactly what I’d call special”. Hueningkai scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Or is that a different person.”

“That was last month’s I think.” Taehyun chimes in.

Yeonjun frowns. “Not helping”.

“Well if your ‘thing’s so special then why haven’t you thought to call this person until just now?” Kai says.

“I don’t wanna bother them. Not on a school night.” Yeonjun replies slowly making his voice smaller and lowering his head in mild shame.

“Bullshit! You had a fight didn’t you. What’d you do this time huh?” Taehyun now turns around to fully face the other two in the booth. “You fuck it up or something is that it?”

“I didn’t-“ Yeonjun starts to raise his voice and then collects himself. “I didn’t do anything!”

“What’d you say!?” Tyunning ask in unison.

We just got into a little fight and haven’t been talking for a minute. It’s not like they’re my partner, it’s not like we’re dating or anything, it’s not a big deal.” He says ignoring the fact that to him it was indeed a big deal.

“Don’t tell me you actually said that to them?” Kai asks, a twinge of cynicism in his otherwise sincere voice. “I mean maybe you should just call them up… I’m sure you’re right, it’s not a big deal” He adds when he notices Yeonjun isn’t answering.

“I don’t know”… Yeonjun looks over to the small group where the rest of his friends are as one of the sorority girls rubs Beomgyu’s shoulder and laughs. “They seem to be having fun.” He bemoans and reaches for the unclaimed and now lukewarm glass on the table and takes a large swig. Yeonjun clears his throat with a guttural release of phlegm and low drunken burp. He blinks slowly before speaking again. “I wish I was having that much fun tonight.” Noticing how Soogyu are able to keep the attention of an entire group of people without even trying to have sex with any of them.

“Don’t be like that man. There’s no point in just wallowing in your sadness all night.” Taehyun says wrapping an arm around Yeonjun who only seems to sink deeper and deeper into the booth as he thinks of you and what you might be up to tonight.

“Whatever happened, just apologize and get it over with.” Kai says.

“He’s right for once!” Taehyun adds “you might feel worse if you keep avoiding it but you’ll definitely feel worse of you keep moping about it all night.”

“Plus your mood is really killing the vibe right now.” Hueningkai leans in “it’s no fun drinking with a sad g— ow!”

Taehyun hits the chatty boy’s shoulder prompting him to stop before rubbing small circles onto Yeonjun’s back.

Normally he would take the opportunity to get a jab in at Kai whenever he can as well, but Yeonjun’s too distracted with the light film of tacky alcohol stuck between his thumb and index to say anything. Just by touching the table he’s yet again reminded of some small moment with you. A moment he probably would have cherished more at the time if he knew he’d eventually fuck up this bad. Usually he’d be way more grossed out by these dirty old tables but the way the rough pads of his fingers take in the combined feeling of damp condensation from the half empty glass in front of him, and whatever sticky thing’s been spilled on the table has his mind wandering elsewhere again.

The many nights he’s spent in your apartment, slender fingers wrapped around the widest part of your thighs with the wetness and the stickiness clinging more to his plush lips and sharp chin than to his fingers. The cushion of his backside just wasn’t as comfortable in this chair as it was when he was propped up against the fluffy white pillows your mom had sent from home. Back against your headboard as your head went lower and lower down his length. The beer here didn’t taste as good as the cans of his favorite brew you kept cold in your fridge just for him, but then again, nothing ever tasted as good as you did. Oh how he wished he was running his hands through your hair and recounting his day instead of whining and running his hands through… ew was that a piece of gum!

No offense to his friends but he would much rather be hearing your little quips and corny jokes than Hueningkai’s right now. He can’t help just getting a bit emotional thinking about all the times you ordered a pizza just to entice him to stay and study a little bit longer and now you won’t even talk to him.

Yeonjun feels a lump form in his throat. At first he thinks it’s just the sad horniness causing it but then he realizes it’s mostly just the sad. He can feel his eyes start to water a bit as the lump gets harder and harder to swallow which only makes him think of you more.

“Are you okay”?

Yeonjun’s not even really sure who asks it but those three words are enough to send him over the edge. He officially becomes the guy who gets too drunk and in his feelings on a night out and the waterworks begin.

“Fuck man! Do you really like them that much?” Taehyun seems genuinely surprised as Yeonjun isn’t always very open about his romantic feelings.

“Are you actually crying right now?” Hueningkai asks as he grabs some bar napkins and gently wipes at his friends face.

Yeonjun attempts to deny the accusations (vehemently at that) but can’t quite get the words out. “No!” he whines and instead crosses his arms on the table and buries his head in between them before anyone can spot to redness creeping its way across his cheeks and under eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Beomgyu walks over witnessing the scene before him with a bit of indifference. He places his palms flat on the wood surface and stands before the group confused. “Cool if I drink this?” He asks but finishes off the rest of Yeonjun’s beer without waiting for an answer anyway.

Taehyun shrugs “relationship stuff”

“I think he had a fight and must miss someone or something” Kai attempts to clarify.

Beomgyu furrows his eyebrows for a bit and leans in closer. “Hey buddy just call them” he announces matter of factly, but when he gets no response he reaches over Taehyun and into Yeonjun’s pocket.

Beomgyu finds his friend’s phone with relative ease and stares at the screen. “Let’s see… phone… call history… missed call from mom… missed call from me… aha! This is them right there’s a heart next to the name! How cute”. He coos sarcastically.

Yeonjun’s head shoots up. “What’re you doing!?”

“Fixing your problem.” Beomgyu says like it’s the most stupidly obvious solution ever (because it just might be). He holds the phone up to his ear and taps his foot impatiently on the ground.

“Give me that, are you insane!” Yeonjun lunges out of his seat practically trampling the other two around him in the process. He snatches the phone out of his hand and goes to hang up the call as quickly as possible when he’s met with a pitch black screen. The only things visible his puffy eyed reflection and tousled raven hair. “What the hell…”

“You think I’d actually call them! I don’t know your password dude! I don’t even know who they are-” Beomgyu laughs. “-but you obviously care about this person and you’re already standing up so… He gestures to a quieter part of the bar

“How’d you know-“

“I’m your friend”.

𖦹

It takes some convincing from the other three guys with Soobin eventually coming over and joining the quite forceful pep talk, but after being tricked and a little humiliated, Yeonjun finds himself crouched down in the corridor between the supply closet and the bathroom, hugging his knees with one arm and propping up his phone to his ear with the other.

The first few seconds of rings feel like hours and he isn’t even really sure you’re going to pick up.

“Y/N! Hey! Do you have a second… I wanted to say sorry… Okay I’ve been drinking a little but that’s not important— I was not crying”!

-🍌🍶

[ntls-24722]

sorry guys i did not draw much. but you'll never guess WHO i drew.

sorry guys. i am ill with these two.

a detail I extrapolated from Comet to DJ is that because of the speakers, you can actually hear him dream and while it is mostly a faint static some details are able to be made out like footsteps, speech (even if it doesn't make any sense) but the reason why I bring it up is that Wesley is hearing him dream and recently he or the lovesongs DJ wrote has been the center of many of them, and DJ has to lie about the contents

Though, i'm not sure which route to go: Does DJ know Wesley can hear his dreams and has to make an explanation for what he might've heard (possibly self-incriminating himself since he doesn't exactly know how much of his dreams are audible), like

[very obvious and cartoonish smooching noises]

"uhhhhhhhh you turned into an old man and started spitting pistachio shells at me"

Or does DJ not know and he's just completely lying about the contents even though Wesley ACTUALLY knows what happened

[crazylittlejester]

So at dinner with some friends after work (I work at the school gym climbing wall, and one of them likes to climb and drags the other out so they just bother me for the whole shift while also being cowards about top roping) one of them told me that last year his roommate would get high and then vanish from like midnight til the witching hour and after weeks of my friend asking where tf he's going he said "follow me."

Evidently, the roommate led my friend on a long and circuitous path to a place not too far away, walking in his socks 'to feel the ground better' through rain and mud, eating pistachios and discarding the shells all the while. Friend reported that at one point, roommate stopped and said "uhhhh, I forgot which way we turn..." and friend was like "dude we just follow the fucking pistachio trail like Hansel and gretel."

Eventually they arrived at the roommate's weed fort, which is a stick lean-to he built on a fallen log that he wanted to sit in and watch the stream, so um. He built it on the fucking stream.

So naturally me and friend decided to go out there after dinner in the pitch black and look for said weed fort., which he is a guy and I am a girl but it was unanimously decided in the group that if one of us would murder the other, he's more likely to be the victim bc that's just what happens when your a forensic science major ergo know a lot about drugs and crime and also a pretty confident person and your friend is a self described "whimsical twink," so.

Speaking of murder, we found stuffing spread across yards and yards, and a long zipper so idk if someone disposed of a body out there in a sleeping bag or what but if they did they did NOT bury it well enough. It very likely wasn't a murder and probably just a stoner spending some of the night out in nature and just forgetting to pack their sleeping bag when they went in, but there wasn't much other litter out there, so it was kinda wack that the only man made shit out there was a rotting sleeping bag.

And also after we found it, we set up the skeleton for our own, superior lean to.

this ENTIRE paragraph had me in fucking tears:

So naturally me and friend decided to go out there after dinner in the pitch black and look for said weed fort., which he is a guy and I am a girl but it was unanimously decided in the group that if one of us would murder the other, he's more likely to be the victim bc that's just what happens when your a forensic science major ergo know a lot about drugs and crime and also a pretty confident person and your friend is a self described "whimsical twink," so.

it sounds like you got up to some adventures and this entire thing is hilarious and incredibly iconic i fear

[deepspacedukat]

Mixed feelings about Shepard Lambrick? It happens to the best of us. Personally, the thing I can’t stand about him is that he leaves his pistachio shells on the couch when the garbage can is RIGHT there. Sir I am NOT your maid, you’re a grown ass man, pick up your garbage.

You know you grew up around people who were unintentionally horrible (for the most part) to service staff when that’s your main issue with a man who hosts slaughter parties.

-Horta-in-Charge

Yeah, many mixed feelings about both Shepard and the movie in general.

Tbh, I thought I'd be the only one with a complaint about the pistachio shells! Like...really, is it so hard to be tidy?? I mean, I know he's a spoiled rich little shit, but like...you make so much of an effort with the rest of your appearance. Surely, you wouldn't behave like that in your own home?

Omfg I know what you mean! My parents weren't that bad, but my grandparents and my uncle were always so awful even if they didn't mean to be. At least they still tipped well.

*ahem* Anyway, Shepard is...something. He's polite...he's sexy...and he's also fucking awful.

But...I still desire him carnally...

My conscience is saying 'ew' but between my legs is very much saying 'please daddy.' So uh... 👀

[deploytheboy]

The skabi masterlist

Dome shaped and loveable.mushroom

Skabi vs Andy's room

farquaad(theatre slut/nerd, softie, quote folder

Where is he_My brother.stonks

This aged so badly.volcra_fucking

Greek mythology is Greek mythology

Secret jigwise folder

Skey.professional_editor

Talk more about female oppression in patriarchal society

Jigwise 💕/Jigsaw <3333

Penode game weak

Nobody expects the canalised river

I've had enough of this dude.pennywise

Quote folder <3.mannequins

That's [it] you complete me

Robot Pigeon jesus we've all seen him

Padmé

Star wars rp

Teethie boys music

And I feel soft in this chili's tonight

Skey my little meow meow

All nut no shell/pistachio brainwave/thought pistachio/thoughts Pistachios/the use of pistachio as a verb/no thoughts pistachio empty/you just got pistachioed/pistachio bird vector

Morally grey protag_abi

Ayo 2 the sequel

I studied the curb I mastered the stomp

I appreciate the overestimation of my intelligence

Self isolating babey

Fuck you. Unlearns how to read an analogue clock.

Krogstad my beloved.gif

Holey Thursday my beloved.gif

Sorry about the blood in my mouth I was licking a peach

Indeed... The plot chickens

I contain multitudes.mulaney

Lit grids

Dolls house alignment chart

Skye 🙂

Explaining mcyt

Long live the lesbians

And the canary choked in my throat

I'm in your bathroom using your toothpaste

The concept of being loved lots and lots like jelly tots got to me alright

I am dome shaped and lovable so hot that down

Skelen

Thanks 👍

Ske

Girls trip

Hollow worms

Pussification

Don't watch private peaceful without any problems caused by alarm based issues your so sexy aha

Achilles fanart

Go to horny jail

History speaks

Cry abt it/I am

It'll be Abi Rustage running that bank

The future is many things but female is not one of them

Oh my g we would boss that so hard

We'll we'll we'll what do we have here

Oh Pablo we're really in it now

â

Tease

I'm gonna say 'me too' after u and ur partner say 'I do'

Poetic slurs

Furrycon formalwear

Haunted by the murdoch group

Vegetarian lesbians

Initial queer feelers

Does she draw funky arrows

Cry and do the lit work

Minecraft fans (hi Abi)

Gay rat wedding

Clarifying nothing and setting more work continually

I need a moment

The PAIR on this guy

Is that even a cause of Tb or was ibsen just in the mood to slut shame

I'm a pro at anal series

Female scrooge - gay thoughts head lesbian

Cat mind control powers

Love it when planes a come together

All it takes is severe humiliation

Ugly keysmash I apologise

Sketflixandchill

Tumblr ibsen discussion

Character development.same hat

I have the power of God and strong nails on my side

Cadburys crab egg

You want a mans sport? Start making fun of British politicians

Chagrin is the sexy female assassin that makes lesbian brain go brr

Simp. I know.

It was 1pm. Regular madness.

Petting the fish

Affection starved thumbs up

PIVOT word

Don't imply women are responsible for their own oppression your so sexy

Forget tragedy essays I'm already writing tragic essays

I would never want you to pass lit bb

Indeed. The plot chickens.

Politics vs gay Simpsons Anne Hathaway. We are not the same.

Bagels are scary.

Man cannot live on cereal bars alone.

Me eating my fringe toast with my fail peanut butter.

[terristernwrites]

"You're sure this will work?" Joanne put her binoculars down, looking over the leaves to the other branch.

"Positive." Tina popped another pistachio, pocketing the shells into her backpack.

"He's seven."

"Yep."

"Tina, we should do something. He's going to die."

"We all are if we don't let him do it."

"How?!" Joanne wanted to reach over and shake her wife, but then they'd both fall out of the tree and breaking a leg before the end of the world was terribly cliche. "How is this going to work?"

"Because he believes he can."

Joanne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And?"

"And he's got a family at home. Grandma and little sister. Mum died a year or so ago, dad's working up north to pay the bills. All there is between our little man and the end of everything he's loved is that bat and the starry sky." Tina was misty eyed, eating more pistachios as she sniffed away a tear. She always needed more salt when she was maudlin. Joanne usually found it sweet.

"We could have been in Malta. I could have taken us somewhere warm and beautiful to die." She slumped against the tree trunk, shaking her head. It would have been a lot of magic to get them there at short notice but she'd have done it for Tina. Had them dying tangled together in the surf, kissing the tears away as fire overcame everything and the ocean boiled around them. Gone out with a bang. Ha.

The sky started to brighten, a great green dawn beginning to creep along as the asteroid crested closer, threatened to show them just what the dinosaurs had feared. If they'd even had time to.

"Show time," Tina whispered. She stood up, light on the branch, and with a kiss of a word brought up an image of the hill.

The little boy hefted his bat up, tears streaming down his eyes as he faced the emerald sky. His gaze trained on the bright spot streaking closer, angry as the eye of a jealous god, and he muttered a name under his breath. Mum. Joanne's heart wavered, and she grabbed for Tina's hand.

"Soon, my love. Soon." Tina's gaze glowed, azure and beautiful, and her shape began to buckle and fracture as she took up the same stance as the boy.

On the hill a shape rose behind him, light and fire coalescing into a tumbling, golden shadow that loomed like a statue. Wings unfurled, broad enough to cover a city, and gave a shivering flex, lighting cracking out from the tips. Ebbing and billowing with an unseen wind it stood, mimicking the boy's movements as he sniffed and spat, then took a shuddering breath before he swung. A sword as dark as secrets and as large as love swung in line with his arc, sweeping the land below with a shadow long enough to change a season, and the crash of oceans and storms and breaking oaks roared out around them.

Joanne clung to her tree, shaking in the gail of impact, and when she'd stopped shivering she looked around. Blue welcomed her, the green light abating as the bright streak skewed off; shrank and shrank.

The boy was leaping up and down, whooping with delight as he pointed at the sky. Tina's bag was on the forest floor, empty shells scattered amongst the roots.

Joanne hauled herself down, jumping the last stretch of trunk to land far off lest she injure anything. Grabbing the bag up she sought out more pistachios, cracking a few into her palm before she picked up the sleeping form tucked into the roots.

Blue had always been her best colour, Joanne knew that, but the midnight dark shade was not her favourite. The azure was better, bright with love, as sure as the surf and shore. Soft wings curled around tail and claw, huffing little breaths betraying that Tina was only almost asleep. Joanne chuckled and settled her against her chest, tucked high so Tina's tail could curl around her neck and cling on, then slipped a couple of the pistachios into the waiting hands.

The crunching started in time with her steps, and she paused to fish the bag out of Tina's bag so she could shell more as she hiked out. Best not to leave her love hungry.

Astronomers discover a giant asteroid hurtling towards Earth. Across the world, panic spreads. Looters ravage cities, families huddle and cry, praying for a miracle. On a lonely hill in the middle of nowhere, a child watches the sky with a baseball bat, poised to swing as the asteroid nears.

[the-firebird69]

It's an exciting time it's right now and there are a lot of things happening one of them is is usually quite uncomfortable and people were not trying now some of them are it's like very late and it's very harsh have a few things to note about it and we don't like the treatment we tried to do something and he couldn't get it done we're going to try it later there's a way to add gears to the golf carts and it's very simple and it's not complicated and it is probably safer than a lawn mower the steel is rated better and it's already a vehicle it's made to not twist and contort and I need new brakes no the disc brakes your hydraulic and the body on most of them is pretty low profile the seats are way too high and they're not the right type of seat and people take those out and they put them on their factory transports lot of people want to hear the idea but it's really to turn into a vehicle the car and it's not a bad idea and it might be the car that our son was talking about and it started out usually with outrageous fun names with the cart with the kit and this one would be escargot because right now it's easy to go now if you want to change it to easy going my son wants to design competition with Monk who blew it off and it does start some things it begins to iron Man series because Tony Stark gets involved he makes one that's really good from a golf cart and he's not much but he is really good at it we're going to start working pretty soon but we have work to do here those are great time right now I got tired of all these vehicles that don't do anything and people like the title easy going and he was thinking easy Rider and he would but really it's her and really a pistachio shell kind of went up his nose a little the casing within part so we are going to go brush his teeth and we're going to get going on this idea in a moment

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[exactlyclassywombat]

Why Nobody Cares About 비닉스부작용

Can a man aid his erection devoid of high priced and possibly dangerous drugs?™

The solution is yes. The Chinese have already been obsessive about this situation for 1000s of several years, and produced an entire panoply of normal drugs for libido and erection.

In some way ignored, There's been this kind of all-natural method to boost the excellent and amount of erections in the Mediterranean place given that ahead of recorded background.

Each individual Eurasian (and Mediterranean) guy understands from his very own knowledge the strength of the Pistachio nut, and listed here we will current it for yourself, And just how its blend with honey provides in Guys an abundance of prostatic fluid (and sperm), Using the accompanying high-quality of enhanced erections.

The Mighty Pistachio

The nutritional values to the pistachio could be witnessed within the close of this post. It is so jam packed with micro-nutrients, and plenty of of which can be answerable for the male response actions, its value for a food items cannot be underestimated.

one ounce of dry roasted pistachios include 165 energy, with 7 grams of carbohydrates, six grams of protein (and find out the protein checklist from the chart with the close of this text), fourteen grams of Fats (that contains one.7grams of saturated Fats...needed for the effective manufacture of testosterone in The person's reproductive process). The pistachio is cholesterol no cost. They are doing contain large values of Natural vitamins A and C, together with important percentages of calcium and iron

The Recipe in your Day by day Nutritional supplement of Erective Elixir

Starting up Along with the nutritionally rich pistachios, about one particular cup whole (de-shelled) of dry roasted pistachios are extra to an equivalent volume of organic natural honey. The honey should be from "totally free" bees that were Enable out to collect their pollen Normally, and from particular vegetation close to the hives.

https://i.ytimg.com/vi/iRqdcUIEDlg/hqdefault_861800.jpg

Position the 비닉스구매 combination right into a glass jar, and expose to your Sunshine for 1 week. The most beneficial time to make this combination is over the summertime months. Once the 1 7 days expose, the combination is ready.

The Proteins and Nutritional vitamins from the Pistachio

The pistachio consists of eighteen important proteins, preserve Hydroxyproline. It is sort of a whole foodstuff By itself. From vitamins, pistachios contain Vitamin A. C, D, E, Thiamin, Riboflavin, Niacin, Vitamin B6, Folates, Vitamin B12, and K.

From minerals, pistachios comprise significant quantities of calcium and iron, and magnesium, phosphorus, sodium, zinc, copper, manganese, selenium.

From sterols, pistachios have zero cholesterol, though the beneficial phytosterols of campersterol, stigmasterol, and beta-sitosterol, all with a powerful impact on the male reproductive hormone system.

When combined with honey, the nutritional value of the elixir gets a hugely enriched foodstuff that could exhibit its reward to All round superior wellness and circulatory Gains demonstrated in rock-really hard erections.

How and When to Eat the Honey-Pistachio Elixir

We advise 1 tablespoon day-to-day, within the mornings, and one tablespoon when sexual activity is anticipated. It might be eaten by itself, blended with all-natural unflavored yogurt, or with some fruit. The result, as time passes, are going to be an increased sexual likely, rock-tough erections, and healthy libido.

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Schizandra berries a by-product of Chinese traditional medicine falls into The category of pressure relievers. When strain leaves, you become additional relaxed and powerful; it is this situation that ultimately strengthens the intercourse organs.

Cordyceps is often a fungus developed on backs of caterpillar of a selected species of moths; when harvested a toner extract is taken as a stimulant on the immune system. It also will increase physical endurance by tuning the muscular technique to employ surplus energy produced.

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Licorice (or liquorice) recognised also as Glycyrrhiza glabra or G.uralensis depending on where it is grown, is a legume and amongst the ancient aphrodisiacs acknowledged. Its recipes enhance sexual vigor and lust. It improves the testosterone hormone generation Consequently activating senses for enjoy play. In Gals it functions as a sensory mobile stimulator escalating blood move into the vulva area. Licorice items are numerous and so are accustomed to alleviate many other ailments in the human body.

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[laysdimplesareillegal]

NCT as High School Teachers

Y’ALL IT’S FINALLY HERE

So I saw a thibg on instagam that said nct as teachers so lets go

We’re going by age so I know I get all of them but I also don’t know all of them too well. I’m literally so upset I cant do xiaojun because I love him but I also don't know him well enough I’m sorry honey. also some of these I really pulled out of nowhere so they might be way the frick off

Taeil

I think he’s like one of those teachers who loves his job and wants his students to love his class but like he teaches selectively at the end of the day and they just want to go home

Teaches like language arts or some sort of literature

Is so happy to teach everyday

Johnny

Everyone's best friend

Knows every bit of gossip going on in school

Nobody knows what his job is

Meanders around campus all day

Knows your name somehow

Taeyong

Teaches something to help improve life skills like speech or something. Teaches Home Ec.

Loves his students and wants to be involved in their lives

Pretends like he’s not listening to all the student’s gossip so he hears it all

Gets bombarded in the teacher’s lounge on what’s happening (needs to be cajoled)

Surprised by all the scandalous things his students get themselves into

Yuta

We all knew this was coming

The hot substitute teacher

Works like once a semester

When he comes to work the whole school is rocked and he knows it

Walks around the classroom all day like sir why are you strutting

Sits with his feet up on the desk

Kun

Probably wants to be a really good and strict teacher

But the kids know they can walk all over him

Senior teacher

So when the seniors are informal with him so are the rest of the students

Doyoung

Scary

Extremely silent classroom you could hear a pin drop on the carpet

But like then he’s seen around the other teachers and he's so smiley

Either lectures and notes or busy work

Will not. Under any circumstances. Allow friends to sit next to each other.

Ten

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care”

Art teacher

So he can do whatever he wants, pass kids, and gets paid to use the school’s art supplies

Scolds kids who insult other kids’ artwork

Randomly subs for PE one day and makes the students learn dance

Jaehyun

Honestly idk probably an elective

His class is pretty average just like any other

But wow sir hello

Everyone is in love with him

Is besties with Taeyong and like wow what a pair Probably has a movie day like at least once a month

Winwin

Mysterious

Likes select students who will then learn that he likes stuff like ballet and singing

Students only learn about him through Yuta

People take his class cuz they know Yuta will visit him even when he doesn’t work

Well and ya know because its Sicheng

Is a pretty chill teacher

Jungwoo

FRESHMEN TEACHER

Girls literally coo at him instead of doing their work

Wonders why he has to fail students when he doesn’t teach anything

Speaks in tiny and loses control of his class sometimes

Shares a room with another teacher like idk Jaehyun.. Idk why but he does

(I have just been informed that he does in fact share a room with Jaeyun so there you have it)

Lucas

Teaches like P.E.

It’s something he can do and be loud about

Loves shouting orders but he never sounds angry like a normal coach lol

Actually scratch that he can sound angry sometimes

PRETENDS to be angry and yells then laughs like lol you should see your faces

ALWAYS plays with the students he never stays on the sidelines

Allows you to wear normals clothes not just the ugly gym uniform

Mark

Yes he teaches english

But half the class is just him laughing

Lots of the other teachers visit him

Like Yuta and Haechan

You can hear him from down the hall

I feel like he’s that teacher that has mistakes in his notes or tests or something, like small little spelling errors idk I can just see it

Firmly believes that you learn best by immersion and therefore you watch TV in class ALL THE TIME

Hendery

Drama teacher drama teacher drama teacher

All around good vibes

Finds things funnier than other students do

Truly anything goes in his class

Has never written up a student

Does stuff. Like you’re not the only one up there embarrassing yourself he does it first so y’all aren’t shy

No shyness allowed he will shell you like a pistachio

Renjun

Strict

It’s not even that he wants his students to do well or any dumb excuses like that he’s just strict

He gets teased all the time by the other teachers and his students cower at them

They honestly think it’s his twin brothers talking with the other teachers who is this man

Teaches a language class

So its like you either speak in that language or you don’t speak at all

Really cuts the stupid out of his class

And his class is really difficult for no reason everyone is like “But sir this is 101”

Jeno

Good wholesome teacher everyone can like

I can see him in like home ec

Kids come and talk to him all the time

His tests are so easy you are guaranteed to pass his class with flying colors as long as you know how to spell your name

Haechan

Study hall

Wants to have no responsibility Leaves the classroom all of the time, like he’s never in the classroom

Visits Mark so much

And Johnny so many visits to Mark and Johnny

Jaemin

He probably dabbles a little bit into phys ed

Also enjoys teaching so much

Has a big smile in class all the time

Learned everyone’s names down after the first day of class

Wants everyone to have a good ol’ time

Yangyang

Probably gets along with the younger boys 

Teaches something but people only learn german from him

No learning goes on in his vicinity

I love him but I feel like some people would find him a lil annoying

The jokes never stop

Chenle

Teaches freshmen math

He’s really hit or miss with his students

Sometimes they like him sometimes they don’t get him

I feel like he’s the teacher that always has like a group of students that eat lunch in his room

Always looks so fine like he dresses really well and all

Probably makes you do a lot of group projects I feel

Jisung

The youngest teacher

No one’s sure he’s actually allowed to be a teacher because he’s very discreet with his timeline like nobody knows his age but he has a mysterious amount of degrees

Like no one knows the details of his life he’s just there

Was mistaken as a student on multiple occasions