#steals it from SOMEONE ELSE so it was never his to claim to begin with

[dragmiire]

is anyone gonna comment on how tf rauru is the ultimate secret stone man supposedly but ganondorf's title is 'master of the secret stone' or am i just gonna go slowly insane inside my own head over it.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

teamwork

kinktober, day twenty-six

a/n: ........I mean, how could i not? it's a classic.

summary: “oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

warnings: reader x pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson), smut, slight dubcon, pro athlete au (even though i know the majority of them are american, i’m just gonna say that they play for a team somewhere else just so that i don’t have to say soccer, it hurts my soul), the old oops i accidentally walked into the locker room trope, gangbang, everyone's a hoe, established relationship, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, handjobs, oral, thigh riding, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, bukkake, spit kink, squirting, impact play, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

word count: 5400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“You were amazing out there,” you purred between pecks as Steve’s firm thigh, slotted between your own, rubbed against your core, your short skirt flaring out over the shorts of his uniform. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, his lips fluttering down your neck as he uttered, “you know, I think was even better with you in the audience,” nudging his leg more determinedly against you as you melted against the wall he had you pressed against, “like you brought me luck or something.”

Just then, as you felt yourself begin to soak through your underwear and mark your boyfriend’s uniform, someone from further down the hallway poked their head out of a door and shouted, “hey, Rogers!” reeling back from the crook of your neck with a peeved exhaled, Steve cast his glance in the individual's direction, “coach wants a word with you in his office.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nodded before turning his attention back to you, arms firm on either side of your head, cosily caging you in as he spoke, “I’ll be right back,” his leg reluctantly retracted from your warmth, “there is lounge down around the corner there that should be on the quiet side about now if you don’t wanna wait out here,” he offered a vague nod to his left before dipping down to near your lips one last time. 

Smile growing wide at his considerateness, you breathed, “okay,” but the kiss you thought he wanted to give to you never came as his nose just ghosted against your own, seemingly savouring the moment before you felt him shift and his finger disappeared below your skirt, “Steve, what are you-,” but the rest of your sentence never saw the light of day as, with a daring smirk on his lips, Steve swiftly kneeled down before you and snatched your underwear down past your knees, keeping his eyes on yours as he methodically manoeuvred your jelly like legs to steal the sodden garment completely. 

“I’ll come find you in a bit, yeah?” he placed a playful peck right above your knees before straightening back up. 

“Steve!” you hazily giggled as he began to disappear down the corridor. 

“10 minutes, 15 tops!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away from your stunned form, “then I’m claiming my prize!” 

With a breathy chuckle still billowing from your lips, you pulled out your phone and rounded the corner, scrolling through your options of temporary entertainment as you neared the room that you could supposedly wait in.

Eyes glued to the small screen in your hands, you didn’t even glance up as you reached the first door you approached, not assuming there were any other options, you simply pushed it open and strolled in. 

Fully expecting that you were nearing a couch or something soon, the room you’d blindly entered turned out to not be the lounge you’d thought it was, but instead, the team’s locker room as you swiftly walked straight into a broad and bare chest. 

“Wow, I’m sorry-,” your eyes tore away from your screen to finally discover where you were. Vision growing wide, you stared up at the athlete before you, his golden mane rustling from the collision, “I-I-…”

Blinking up at Thor, your own name even escaped your memory as you found yourself in the very last place you should have wandered into.

From off to the side, you heard the voice of Tony holler, “hey sweetheart, fans aren’t allowed in here,” before leaning closer to the sandy buzzcut beside him and muttering quietly, “I thought they said they had tightened security around here…”

With your feet still frozen to the floor, your mouth hung agape as your eyes glazed over the recognisable individuals throughout the room, all in various states of undress. As Thor’s towering form moved past, walking over to snatch up a towel, someone else dexterously took his place, “wait a second, I recognise you,” you blinked back at the guy who rarely left your boyfriend’s side, “you’re Cap’s new girl, aren’t you?”

“I-I-, yeah,” you stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in here-”

“Oh, but you did,” Bucky teasingly took a step closer. 

“I was, uh, looking for the lounge, and I was just staring at my phone,” you swallowed thickly as someone out of the corner of your eye peeled off their shirt, “I’m so sorry, I'll get out,” but as you whirled around to bolt out of there, you just collided with another individual that had slyly slotted in between you and the only way out of here. 

“You’re cute,” you heard Bucky continue as you blinked up at Pietro, his athletic physique now completely blocking the exit, just as Thor's, the team's goalie, would do before the vast net during an intense game, “isn’t she cute, guys?”

Soft echoes of agreeance bounced off the walls before Pietro smiled down at you, “what’s your name, baby?” his accent sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

“Y/n…” you softly uttered, your heartbeat deafening in your ears, growing and rippling out from where it was still thumping from between your thighs.

“That’s a pretty name,” his eyes washed over your visage, licking it up like he was at a museum. 

“So, tell us, Y/n,” you spun back around at the sound of Bucky’s timbre, “did you really just not pay attention or did you perhaps walk in here on purpose?”

“No!” you squeaked, “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Because I think you were trying to catch a little glimpse,” he teasingly cut you off with a soft tilt of his head. 

“Oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

“No, I wasn’t trying anything, I-,” the rest of your plea got suddenly swapped out with a shuttering gasp as the player sitting on the bench beside you had begun to ghost his hand against the goosebump-ridden flesh of your leg, sneakily twisting his position enough to catch a glimpse as his touch carelessly bushed against your short skirt, making it briefly fluff out enough for him to notice. 

“Hey,” Sam boomed to the rest of the team, “she’s not wearing any panties!”

“She’s not?” Thor turned his head to join the festivity entirely.

“Fuck,” you heard Clint curse gutturally, “you came to the game like that?”

From right beside him, Tony bit down on his smirk, “what a little fucking slut…” 

“No, it wasn’t-”

But before you could manage to convince them, Pietro pushed your form lightly and sent you directly into Bucky’s waiting arms. With your back arched like a ski slope, your short skirt rose up, covering virtually nothing, especially after you’d had your undergarments stolen, and granted the men behind you a pornographic view of the state Steve had left you in. 

Catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Bucky tilted your head up to catch your hazy eye, “why don’t you wait here with us?”

“I-…” you blinked back at him, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly against his. 

“Rogers won’t mind,” he shook his head reassuringly, fingers shifting to gently caress you’re your heated cheek, “promise.”

“Yeah,” Pietro’s voice resonated vibrantly from behind you once more, “we always take good care of his girls…” 

Utterly spellbound by his ocean gaze, your head nodded fuzzily, “o-okay,” your breaths came in shaky as you spoke, “I guess if you say Steve wouldn’t mind, then I could probably just hang out in here for a bit till he gets back.”

“Great!” Sam clapped his hands together, the sudden noise causing you to jump out of the burly arms that held you. 

Leaning back against his locker, Clint then asked, “so did you enjoy the game?”

“Oh, sure,” with clumsy words flowing from your lips, your eyes traced Thor’s half-naked form as he crossed the room, “it was fun, I mean, you guys played really well, congrats on the win by the way.”

“Aw, thanks,” the man your gaze was locked upon sniggered as he settled in beside Tony, then leaned in to mutter in his ear just loud enough for you to catch, “Cap really wasn’t bluffing about her.”

“Dude, I know,” Tony harmonized lowly before raising his voice, “so, Y/n!” he slyly cleared his throat, “you never did tell us why you came to our game commando. Did you do that for us?”

“Oh, I-…” you averted your gaze, attempting to explain it with an airy laugh, “that wasn’t me, Steve kinda stole them a few minutes ago.”

Counting from behind you, Pietro challenged, “oh, Steve stole them, did he now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded bashfully. 

“And just why would he do such a thing?”

“I-…” you redirected your vision up towards the ceiling, “I think it’s easy enough to deduce what he was thinking.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it,” Pietro playfully stepped closer, tilting his head to catch your nervous gaze. 

“Come on, honey,” Sam’s tongue flickered out to glisten up his smirk, “don’t get shy on us now.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you then confessed with an exhale, “…we were gonna go celebrate…”

“Celebrate? Really?” Bucky’s gaze gleamed back at you in amusement, “well, that sounds fun, doesn’t it sound fun, guys?” he didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he countered to the others, their enthusiastic replies swiftly filling the thick air. Slowly leaning in close, he tugged a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, “you know what I think?” your head instantly shook, hypnotically granting him the answer to continue, “I think we deserve some celebrating as well, don’t you think? I mean, it wasn’t only Rogers out there on the field. Don’t we deserve a prize as well?”

As he cradled your face, all you could do was melt, “I-… I guess so…”

Closing the short distance, Bucky planted a feathery kiss upon your lips before tilting his head back ever so slightly to flash you a playful glance, “yeah?” his words were just above a whisper, “you wanna celebrate with us till Rogers gets back?”

With starry eyes, you blinked back up at the football player and hummed, utterly spellbound, “uh-huh,” before his lips pressed against yours once more, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. 

Letting go of your face, his silky touch casketed down your form like a waterfall, flutteringly roaming, up and down, each time carelessly catching your skirt and letting it gather up with his hungry movements. 

As you purred enchantedly against Bucky’s lips, Pietro behind you sank down to his knees, his intentions becoming clear as you began to feel soft pecks flutter across the backs of your thighs, his fingertips raking over your tingling skin in sloppy patterns. 

But as his caresses danced their way further north up your flesh, I didn’t take long before the greedy man dove head first into what he truly wanted to kiss, rendering you to tear away from Bucky’s lips with a dizzying pant, “oh my god,” and bury your face in his brawny chest. 

Lapping against your soppy folds, Pietro let go of your puffy pearl with a pop, briefly pulling back to share, “fuck, she tastes good.”

“Oh yeah?” Thor breathed from the sidelines. 

“Like fucking sunshine and rainbows,” he elaborated with gravelly desperation in his tone before latching onto your core once more. 

You barely noticed when people stepped closer, scarcely knowing whose hands were exploring your every inch, all you knew was how incredible they made you feel. 

Squeezing your boobs through your thin shirt, nipples pebbly and clear through the fabric, you felt Tony’s breath tickle your ear, “you mind taking this off for us, sweetheart?”

Eyes fluttering over your shoulder to find him, you simply raised your arms high above your head and let them yank your t-shirt off and merrily discover how you hadn’t bothered to put a bra on this morning. 

Glancing down, you watched as Clint cupped your softness in his wide palms, “damn, look at these fucking tits,” he gave them a little jiggle before dipping his head down low to place a few pecks along them. With the left of your small buds swiftly getting captured by his lips, a different hand took over palming your right as your fingers found Clint’s short hair, your nails scraping gently along his scalp, “you like that, hon?” he blinked up at you as he sucked, friskily nipping at your sensitive skin, “you like having these little nipples played with, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily as someone reached out to pinch harshly the one not getting slobbered. 

“What else do you like, huh?” Bucky asked, his radiating form still pressed up against you. Capturing your chin, his thumb extended to brush over your lips, “you like having something in this pretty little mouth of yours?” poking it in, the pad of his finger softly ran across your tongue before your lips enclosed around him, your head blissfully bobbing as you sucked on his digit, “yeah? You wanna suck our cocks?” he retracted his digit, smearing saliva across your cheek as you offered him a foggy nod, “you think you can handle all of us at once?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted with excitement bubbling in your belly, “I’ve never been with more than just one person at a time.”

“Oh no, really?” Tony rumbled playfully, “you’ve never been shared by more?” he palmed your tit roughly as you craned your neck to gaze at him, “what a fucking shame, truly, you deserve to be worshipped like a goddess.”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Thor smirked, “we’ll help you,” before Pietro as the last one distanced himself, letting go of your petals with a pop, as you sank down to the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed before, but now that you were at the right eye level, it became impossible not to take in the team’s enthusiasm. Most of them were already touching themselves and some even had already whipped their cocks out, the vision causing your eyelids to flutter as your brain turned molten at the possibilities. 

“O-oh, wow,” your eyes grew to the size of plates as they tugged their shorts down, “I-I-,” lengths springing free all around you, “I don’t know where to start… wow…” a giggle suddenly began to bubble out of you as you tore your stare away from their erections to find their eyes, “h-hi.”

Grasping your hand in his, Bucky then wrapped your fingers around his girth, smiling down at you as he throbbed for you, “hey, baby.”

“You’ll all so-,” your dazed gaze flickered around at them all, “wow…”

Raising your other hand up, you enclosed it around Clint, testing out a gentle jerk to gauge their reactions. 

“Yeah, right back at ya,” Clint echoed your compliments as his mouth fell open, utterly spellbound by your tender efforts. 

Catching Pietro’s eye, you slowly leaned in and gave his tip a sweet kiss, smile wide as you then licked it a few times as if he was a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, “oh, shit,” he groaned, the grip he had around his base tightening, “open up for me, baby,” parting your lips, he then slowly rocked forward to fill up your mouth slightly, “yeah, just like that,” you felt his pulse against your tongue, “fuck…”

Head bopping gently at a leisurely pace, drooling blissfully around Pietro’s bulbous head, you shifted your hands, eyes fluttering in an attempt to locate the others, Sam and Thor then instead came to your rescue by seizing your flailing hands and bringing them to what you sought. 

When you pulled back from Pietro to catch your breath, his dick falling from your swollen lips with a crisp pop, you barely managed to suck in one whole breath before Tony’s hands seized either side of your face, bringing you close and sliding his cock in past your gasp. 

“Here you go,” he groaned as he rolled his hips, instantly going so deep that he tickled the back of your throat. With his fist tight around his base, he reluctantly let you come up for air, pulling back so swiftly as if the lack of your warmth pained him, “show me that tongue, angel,” chest heaving and eyes a daze, your mouth fell open and did as he requested, a hot string of drool promptly dripping from it and connecting to your exposed chest. Grabbing your chin and holding it tight, he leaned down and spit in your mouth, watching only a moment as it sparkled on your tongue before he tapped the weight of his girth against it, playing with it like a rain puddle before he ruthlessly thrust forward so deep that his heavy sack nuzzled against your chin and his tip disappeared deep down your throat, “there you go, honey,” fingers woven in your hair, he kept you still as he fucked your face, “there you go…” 

As Tony selfishly made you choke on his cock, Clint then knelt down beside you and reached under the short skirt that still clung to your hips. One hand still pumping himself, his other fingers found your core. 

“Fuck, she’s so wet,” he groaned, granting your aching clit a few circles before your pussy practically sucked one of his fingers in from how turned on you were, slipping in with no effect at all. Girth falling from your lips, you let out a shuttering gasp. Pressing his cheek against your own, Clint chuckled lowly, “you like that, baby?” lavishly caressing your walls ever so slowly, “that what you need?”

“Oh, god,” you panted, eyes fluttering shut, “yes!”

As he offered you another digit, he kept up a dizzying pattern of pumping his fingers into you, petting against a spot that made your pussy sing, only to retract them in order to rub your puffy pearl, repeating the dance till your legs trembled against the cool tile floor. 

“How about something else, huh?” Thor’s voice cut through your haze, “you wanna get that little pussy stretched out by something else?” your frame then jumped as Clint promptly landed a sharp slap against your soppy folds, forcing your eyes to snap open and your mind to race for an answer. 

Eyes training on Thor, a playful smirk bloomed on your lips, “what do you have in mind?” you asked innocently before you leaned in close and swiped your tongue over his leaking tip. 

Pumping his cock tightly in his fist, he tapped it against your beaming face and chuckled, “you really want me to spell it out for you?” to which you simply giggled under the weight of his length as a reply, one that swiftly got cut short and morphed into a gasp as Clint beside you plucked you up onto your wobbly feet. 

Working as the team that they were, they spun you around so that your backside pressed up against Thor. Hiking your skirt far enough up your waist to render it useless, the blonde athlete gazed down at your dripping mess, nuzzled against him and virtually drooling for him to split you open. 

“Look at that…” he briefly swiped his cock through your folds, parting them with his girth, “so pretty,” before his hips snapped forward and buried himself completely, “fuck…”

Eyes fluttering closed, you let out a shuttering moan as he held you there for a moment, savouring the euphoric sensation as your spine melted back against his chest. As Thor nuzzled you close, filling your cunt up so much that your knees threatened to give out, you felt stray hands find your tits, twisting and tweaking your nipples teasingly as some others grabbed your palms and guided them towards their cocks, enveloping their own around yours and fucking up into your touch. 

“How does she feel?” you heard Tony ask. 

Grip digging into your hips, Thor eased his length out, just halfway, before slamming it back inside, poking a place that pushed the air out of your lungs, “fucking incredible,” his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. 

When a pair of hands found your face, cupping your flaming cheeks, your eyes dreamily blinked open once more to gaze back at Sam. Briefly pressing his lips against yours, it nearly gave you whiplash when they then manoeuvred your spine to bend, bowing down for your mouth to be aligned with Sam's excitement.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he pumped his cock before you, smile growing wider as your soft tongue began to swipe across him, “don’t forget the nuts,” he lifted his length far enough out of your reach, groaning loudly as you began to drool all over his jewels as he wished, “that’s it, atta girl…”

Feeling Thor’s hands shift, one of them came to clench your skirt tightly, gathering the fabric on the small of your back and holding onto it as an anchor as the other one descended upon your ass, slapping away in quick succession, just hard enough for it to tingle deliciously. 

It all felt like a blur, like a dream. A beautiful and intoxicating dream. The kind of dream you’d never wanna wake from. 

After cumming all over Thor’s cock, in the hazy daze of it all, it took you a moment to realise that they had all switched out, trading places so that Pietro was now behind you, sliding in and out of your clenching cunt, and Clint was before you, sinking his dick so far down your throat that it left an imprint.

“This how you thought meeting the team would go, huh?” Bucky’s timbre cut through all of the moans, “this what you expected?” his touch was all over you, so hungry that you could barely keep track of it, “you expected us to pass you around and fuck your brains out?” gliding his palm down your spine, he then came to fixate on the little rosebud just shy north of where Pietro was having his fill, “has Cap fucked you here before?”

In between your sloppy pecks across Clint’s cock, you admitted, “a-a couple times.”

“A couple of times,” he chuckled darkly, “really?”

“What a dirty little girl you are, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the ass,” Clint suddenly got down to your level and plucked up your flustered face, bringing you close to his own, “say it, say that you’re a dirty girl.”

The words promptly flowed from you as if you were hypnotised, “I’m a dirty girl.”

Tapping your cheek lightly with his palm, he ordered, “again.”

“I’m a dirty girl.”

Slapping your features harsher this time, “one more time, what are you?”

“A-, fuck,” you whined, brows knitted as your pussy filled the room with soppy melodies of desire, “a dirty girl!

Just then, the door to the locker room burst open and in strolled none other than your boyfriend.

“Alright guys, listen up!” he called out before he truly took in the activities he’d just interrupted, “couch says that-,” but then when his gaze finally trained on your cockdrunk visage, the rest of his important message trailed off, “Y/n?” 

“Oh hey, Cap,” Bucky grinned, none of the players slowing down at the appearance of their leader, “thought we’d keep your girl entertained while you were gone.” 

Closing the door behind him, Steve took a slow step forward and sighed, “guys, seriously?” his glare found each and every one of them, “I was gonna talk to her first,” stride leisurely, he moved closer to you, peeling his shirt off as he did so. Kneeling down before you, getting on your level, a warm smile bloomed upon his lips as his eyes locked with your hazy ones, “hey baby.”

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, wanting so badly to explain, but unable to do anything other than melt even further. 

“How are you doing, huh?” the back of his knuckles softly ghosted down your cheek as his gentle tone washed over you like a warm cup of tea, “you still wanna tell me how well I played today or are you too busy telling the rest of the team?” 

“No, please don’t go,” you grabbed onto his tender touch, “please!”

Straightening back up to his full height, he pulled his shorts down and let his cock spring free, slapping his toned abdomen with its enthusiasm. 

“You mind?” he offered Pietro a nod before the man complied, easing out, and passing you to Steve’s open arms. Scooping you up, his strong grip curved around your bottom entirely. Pressing your lips to his, you tangled your arms around his neck as he nudged your weeping core against his girth, your cunt already creaming and painting his cock a milky shade.

Carrying you in his arms as if it took no effort at all, Steve raised you up further, aligning you just so before dropping you back down again and letting you sink down onto his dick, the sensation causing a pornographic mewl to escape both of your lips as you let the fevered kiss crumble in order to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fucking hell, that’s it,” Steve groaned, lifting you up and down in his grip like a precious little cocksleeve, “that what you needed, huh? You needed me to fuck your pretty little hole?” palming your bottom roughly, he them landed a few swift slaps across it causing even more electricity to course throughout you with the sparks of pleasurable pain, “after the team had their fill, you still needed to feel me?” eyes squeezed shut, your drool smeared against his pulse as you felt him extend a finger and rub a few circles over your other hole, all of the other previous activities already slickening it up enough to make his dance molten and his initiative effortless when he plugged it up, “have me fuck you in front of all of them, give them a good view of what a beautiful mess they’ve made of you… Open your eyes, baby,” hazy vision blinking open, the side of your head stayed plastered against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder as your eyes locked on the spectators, “look at them, look at what you do to them, look at how much they want you.”

Trembling in his arms, so violently that you convulsed off his cock completely, it wasn’t till Sam excitedly pointed out, “oh, she’s a squirter!” that you noticed the gushing waterfall your high had showered Steve with.

“Damn right she is,” Steve smiled proudly, realigning his tender hold as he pressed a soft peck to your temple, “my girl is full of many talents,” with long strides, he then walked up to the bench in the middle of the room and slowly laid down upon it, securely holding your molten form close as he shifted, your body completely plastered on top of his as he cheekily spoke, “in fact, Buck, come over here, help me stuff her a bit more, yeah?” 

Glance swiftly washing over Tony, Bucky asked, “hey, do you still have that-“ 

“Yep, of course,” Tony didn’t need any more to understand, hastily rummaging through his gym bag before tossing his teammate a small bottle of lube, “here!” 

After liberally slickening himself up, you perked up a bit as you felt Bucky’s skin press against your own, your back arching up against his chest as he teased you, nudging his tip against your farmost entrance and rendering your form to yet again give into the ecstasy and recover in a flash. 

But as soon as he confidently sank in at slow and steady pace, a gasp escaped your lungs, “oh my god!”

“What?” Steve smirked beneath you, catching your wild eyes as he teased, “what is it, babe? What’s he doing?”

Mouth agape and brows tightly knitted, you uttered, “he’s fucking my ass.”

“Who’s fucking your ass?” Steve’s mockingly sweet tone washed over you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered as he eased back out till just the essence of him remained. 

“Why don’t you look back at him and say thank you?”

Twisting your head, you found his gaze and hazily managed, “thank you, Bucky,” the sensation of him sinking back in and splitting you apart made it nearly impossible to complete the task. 

“Thank you, what?” Steve fished. 

“Thank you for filling up my ass, Bucky.”

Capturing your face, Bucky cradled it in his hands as he smiled, “you’re so fucking welcome,” before dipping down to steal a sweet kiss, “any time, doll, any time…” 

With your nose nuzzled against Bucky’s, your boyfriend’s low voice once more found your ears, “hey baby? Why don’t you slide my cock back in, huh? Stretch that little pussy out as well?”

Reaching down to seize it, you hummed fuzzily, “mhm,” before slipping it in, your eyes promptly fluttering shut at the ecstasy. 

Their thrusts were slow but immensely intense, with a roughness hiding behind the pace that made you tremble between them. 

“Fucking hell, if you don’t marry this girl, Cap,” you felt Bucky’s boorish fingers wrap around your delicate throat, “one of us will.”

Fighting to peel your blissful eyes open, you first caught sight of Steve’s adoring features beneath you, gazing between your fuzzy expression and your stretched-out holes as if you were some mystical goddesses. But then your vision glanced across the crowd of professional football players, all fixated on you and nobody else, stroking their cocks to the exact pace your holes got filled. 

“I-I-, fuck-…” you whimpered as felt yourself once again near the edge.

“What, are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Steve moaned, rolling his hips up into you in a synchronized rhythm, “I can feel you-, christ, you clench down so fucking tight when you’re all stuffed like this,” he snaked his fingers down to strum your aching and overly sensitive clit, your frame nearly bucking away from him as he bullied the painfully puffy pearl. 

“It’s too much, fuck-, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you heard yourself cry, feeling as if you might actually pass out. 

“No, no, baby, you can, you can,” your boyfriend declared determinedly, not slowing down one bit at the sight of your pout, “you can take it, you can cum with the both of us inside of you.”

“B-but it’s so much, I-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you, don’t we, Buck?”

“Right here, doll,” Bucky’s warm palm slid down your front and grasped your left tit, his whole arm curving over you like a seatbelt holding you upright and close to him, “just fall and we’ll catch you.”

And with that, your pour pussy poured out everything it had, tears spewing from your eyes at the intensity.

“Aah!” 

Convulsing, you nearly tumbled to the tile below, but they both held you close, safely in their grasp as well as far down on their cocks as your gushing core clambered around them and nearly expelled them entirely. 

Maybe you fell asleep, for even a second, because that’s what it felt like when you blinked your eyes open once more to find your drowsy frame situated on the floor, the lingering aid from a few of the men to get you relocated still remaining as you blinked up at all of them.

Had it truly been that many cocks that had in one way or another been inside of you today?

Smiling up at all seven of them from your position on your wobbly knees, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue roll out once last time as they furiously jerked themselves to completion before you, the grin on your face only growing wider as their cum began to paint your skin.

Twitching and panting, the majority still let their touch linger needily as they floated back down to earth. 

Broad chest heaving with every deep breath, “babe,” Steve bit down on his smirk as he gazed down at the decorated state you were now in, “say thank you to the guys for taking such good care of you.” 

Making your gaze go on a round to catch each and every one of their doting stares, you uttered breathlessly, “thank you.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[heartlessvirgo]

Pins and Needles

Summary:

You work at the bar in Jackson, and Joel is a frequent visitor.

Paring: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+MDNI, Swearing, Kissing, heavy petting, unprotected sex, yearning, uhh I think that's it keepin it simple tonight

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: hi there, I wrote this one today, so enjoy. Also idk what else to write about so please someone for the love of God send me a prompt. I am just a woman, who needs help and who has also never had an original thought in her life! -mel

The bar, The Tipsy Bison, loomed ahead, its sign barely visible through the swirling snow. You curse under your breath, pulling your coat tighter around you, but it does little to ward off the biting cold of the morning. December had arrived with a vengeance, and the snow storm showed no signs of letting up. But people still drank, even in weather like this. In fact, you found the bar was busier on days like this. 

Your fingers fumble with the key as you reach the double doors, the cold seeping through your skin to your bones. The sensation creeps through your hands, pins and needles prickling as numbness begins to set in. You rub your hands together, hoping to summon some warmth, but the unforgiving wind steals what little comfort you can muster.

With a final twist, the frozen lock gives, and you push open the doors to bar, the familiar scent of wood and stale beer greeting you like an old friend. Inside, it’s quiet, the soft hum of the heater the only sound as the door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the storm.

Your boots trail in some snow, leaving a damp path across the worn wooden floor. If you could feel your toes, you'd manage to stomp off some of it, but the numbness has already claimed them. Flicking on the lights, a groan escapes your throat as one of the overhead bulbs flickers, sputtering briefly before giving out entirely, casting a shadow over the far end of the bar.

"Great," you mutter, shrugging off your coat and tossing it onto a nearby stool. The dim corner adds another task to your growing list for the day. You make your way behind the counter, fingers still tingling from the cold as you rub them together again, hoping the warmth will return soon.

As the heater hums to life, a soft warmth begins to creep into the space, thawing the icy pins and needles that had gripped you outside. But the flickering bulb lingers in the back of your mind, a small reminder that nothing ever stays entirely comfortable for long.

The list is long before opening today, and you realize it’s just you and the cook all day. Mornings at The Tipsy Bison were never particularly busy—just a slow trickle of night shift workers, looking to unwind at the end of their day. The nights were hecti, and despite the cold outside, you often found yourself sweating by the time you got through the rush. You move around the bar, checking off tasks one by one. Stock the shelves. Fill the ice bin. The steady rhythm of your routine is oddly comforting, like a quiet meditation. It’s midafternoon, and you’re just finishing up a rush of orders—mostly bar food, meant to fill the empty spaces in their stomachs before they start drinking their rations away.

As you wipe down the bar, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. The heavy thud of boots stomping snow off their soles echoes through the space, a quiet gesture of courtesy against the cold. You glance over your shoulder, offering a small, automatic smile as you continue drying a few cups.

It’s Joel Miller that steps in, his presence immediately filling the room in that quiet, commanding way he always had. One of the few night workers you recognized, that usually came in at the tail end of his shifts on watch. His face, as always, was a mix of exhaustion and something that looked too much like annoyance. Or maybe that was just how he looked at you now—ever since that night.

You knew him well. He was curt, sometimes even polite, but always quick with the transaction, his focus more on the drink than anything else. So, you let him have his whiskey, and leave him to drown whatever sorrow clung to him after the long nights on watch.

He was tall when he wanted to be, but the years of bad posture and sleeping on hard ground had left him with shoulders that sagged just slightly. Even so, you could always tell how strong he was—how well he carried it without needing to show it off. You knew. 

You knew all too well.

Joel wasn’t the kind of man who hooked up anymore. Not the type to lose control or give in to temptation. But one night, it happened. Maybe it was the way you poured his drinks heavy that night. And the shots you shared with a few regulars, the way the whiskey loosened your limbs and warmed your skin. By the time your shift ended, you could no longer feel the cold in your bones, your thoughts hazy and distant as the night stretched long and dark between you.

He’d been waiting, just outside the bar, as you took the trash out while locking up. You hummed a mindless tune, one your coworker would probably replay on the jukebox for hours if you let him. 

After the amount of alcohol you’d consumed, it didn’t surprise you to see him standing there. What you couldn’t quite recall was the reason—whether it was the free drink you’d slipped him earlier or the way you’d found yourself watching him from across the room, tracing his features with your eyes, practically undressing him with every glance.

Without a word, he walked you home, a perfect gentleman, like he wasn’t expecting anything in return. And yet, somehow, you’d found yourself dragging him inside, consensually of course, your hands on him before the door even had a chance to shut behind you. It was messy and reckless, but it felt too good to stop.

The heat of his body against yours, the hard muscle that never seemed to fade despite the years and long hours he worked—it was all there, strong and solid. But there was softness, too, and it was so syrupy sweet. His stomach, warm and firm, the delicate skin of his neck, where your fingers lingered, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the surface.

Joel had you fucked into the mattress, your ass up, face buried against the sheets to stifle the sounds that slipped out despite you. It was quick—too quick—but the intensity left a mark, something you couldn’t shake, no matter how much time passed. The heat of him lingered on your skin, his release on your lower back. It was, without question, the most unforgettable moment of your life. But it was also the last. He didn’t return.

Joel never really understood why he had let it happen, why he gave in to the pull between you. Maybe it was the need to feel alive again, the kind of vitality the world had taken from him long ago. Or maybe it was because you were so impossibly sweet, and he knew exactly how easy it would be to ruin that innocence, to watch the halo above your head fall apart.

That’s why he switched to overnight shifts—so when he came into the bar, you’d be deep in your sleep, tucked away in the comfort of your bed. The same bed he’d been in, your thighs pressed against his face as he’d lost himself in the taste of you.

So, you can imagine his surprise when you greet him this morning. Your eyes wide, your smile sugary sweet, a flicker of something else—something almost familiar—lingering as you watch him settle into his usual spot.

“Morning,” you greet, your voice warm despite the chill still clinging to your skin from the blizzard outside. Every time the doors open, a freezing breeze floats through the drafty building, but Joel’s gaze stays steady on you, stony, calculating, but also… a little guarded, like he knows better than to linger on you for too long. 

He gives a curt nod, his usual, as he settles into his spot at the bar. You pour his whiskey, straight, and slide it over to him. His fingers wrap around the glass, but he doesn’t drink right away. His gaze flicks to you as you move back to your tasks, a habit you’ve noticed but never addressed. Much like the way you’ve both avoided addressing that one time when the line between familiarity and something more blurred.

After a moment, he breaks the silence. “Everything holdin’ up alright in here?”

“Mostly,” you reply casually, glancing toward the flickering light. “Haven’t had the chance to fix that yet.”

Joel follows your gaze, then looks back at you. “Need a hand?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t need the help, but because it’s Joel offering. He’s not exactly known for small talk, let alone unsolicited offers of assistance. And especially not with you, not after you both silently agreed to act like that night never happened. 

“‘M good, thanks,” you reply, already on the task of grabbing the ladder from the backroom. 

The task is simple, but of course, it’s right in front of Joel. Your heart races as you set up the ladder beneath the overhead light, the realization of how close you are to him making everything feel suddenly too intimate.

Climbing the ladder, you reach for the bulb, your arms stretching high. The fabric of your crop top shifts upward, exposing a sliver of your skin. It’s only a brief moment, but it’s enough. You don’t need to look down to know that Joel is watching you, his gaze heavy and fixed. The air in the bar thickens, charged with something electric and raw.

You try to focus on the task—unscrewing the old bulb—but his eyes are like a magnet, pulling your attention, dragging your mind away from the simple fix. You glance down, just for a split second, and you catch his gaze. There’s no mistaking it: he nurses his whiskey as he drags his eyes up from your exposed skin and to your face. His eyes are locked on you, intense and unreadable. It feels like too much, like where you stand becomes unbalanced. 

 A sudden noise breaks the tension, and just as the door to the bar swings open with the sound of the wind, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your fingers shake, and before you can regain control, the bulb slips from your hand and falls—clink—shattering on the floor below.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, stepping down from the ladder. You can feel the heat still lingering in the air where his gaze had been, but it’s gone now, replaced by an uncomfortable emptiness. With a sigh, you add sweeping up the shattered bulb to your growing list of tasks.

By the time you return with the broom, though, Joel’s already gone, and with him, the tension that had hung between you like a thick fog. The silence left in his wake feels different—quieter, colder somehow. You remind yourself to shake it off. You don’t have the luxury of getting lost in thoughts about him—not when you’ve still got hours to go before you can close this place down and collapse into bed.

By the time the end of your double rolls around, your body aches, longing for a seat, or hell, even just a place to lie down. The weight of the day has settled into your muscles, a dull throb that makes every movement feel like an effort. The bar has emptied out, the late-night crowd now a memory, and you’re left to lock up, your feet dragging as you complete the last few tasks.

You double-check everything—lights off, doors locked—and step out into the cold night. The gusts of wind hit you with a sharp sting, but it’s a welcome jolt, the sudden rush of cold almost comforting after hours spent in the warmth of the bar. You tug your coat tighter, but the chill creeps in anyway, the familiar pins and needles sensation creeping up your fingers again, your skin still feeling like it’s buzzing from the long shift.

Rubbing your hands together, you start shuffling down the path to your home, your thoughts half on the walk home, half still up in the clouds. Your breath puffs out in little clouds, and as you turn the corner to your front porch, you stop short.

There, standing in the dark, is Joel. His figure looms against the porch light you forgot to turn on, barely visible except for the faint outline of his broad shoulders and the glint of his eyes in the moonlight.

The sight of him makes your heart skip—unexpected, unnerving.

“Joel?” Your voice comes out a little softer than you intend, as if the cold air has stolen the strength from your words.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn jacket. A moment stretches between you, the cold air settling in the silence, the weight of the unspoken history between you hanging thick in the air. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he steps forward.

“Wanted to make sure ya got home okay,” he mutters, his voice rough, like it hasn’t been used much today. For a moment, you're speechless, caught off guard by his presence on your porch. The unexpectedness of it twists something inside you, leaving you momentarily breathless.

But it’s the way his eyes flicker over you—soft, dark, searching—that sends a shiver through you. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening again.

He looks... lost. Like a stray dog on your doorstep, seeking refuge from the cold. How could you possibly turn him away? Not with those eyes, the ones that speak of something unspoken, and not after he’s waited out in the freezing cold just to make sure you were safe.

A tightness grips your chest, the question lingering in the air between you. Is that really why he’s here? To check on you, or is there something more—something fleeting, like the brief comfort of your touch, your body? You can’t blame him for it, not when you ache for him just as badly as he seems to ache for you.

You step onto the porch, fumbling for your key. After a moment of searching, you unlock the door and push it open, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the silence. Shifting your weight, you glance over at him, tilting your head. “Do you want to come inside?” The question feels tentative, lingering between you.

Joel pulls his hands from his pockets, his gaze flickering to yours as if he’s weighing your words. His mouth parts slightly, a quiet surprise crossing his face—like he hadn’t expected you to ask, or perhaps hadn’t expected it to be this simple. He nods, the wood creaking beneath his boots as he follows you inside. 

You hear the door close softly behind him as you hang your coat over the back of the couch. Your hands move almost automatically, searching through the small kitchen for two glasses. You pour a generous two fingers of whiskey into each, the amber liquid catching the dim light. 

Joel's footsteps approach the kitchen, the sound of his boots soft against the floor. Without looking up, you cork the bottle and extend one of the glasses toward him, the subtle tension in the air thickening with every movement.

“Thanks.” He takes the glass from you, and you bring yours to your lips. You’re not in the mood for savoring the fine whiskey tonight. Without hesitation, you tip the glass back, letting the burn of the liquid scorch its way down your throat in a few quick gulps.

The wind howls outside, rattling the windows as the blizzard continues its assault on Jackson. You pour another glass of whiskey, the burn lingering, comforting in its simplicity. 

Joel shifts where he stands in the middle of your kitchen, his gaze flicking to the window, then back to you. “Cold out there,” he mutters, his voice low, rough, like gravel.

You nod, half-smiling as the whiskey takes its effects. “Yeah, that storm came out of nowhere.” You don’t look at him directly, but you feel his eyes on you. You wish it didn’t feel so damn heavy.

“Always damn cold this time a year,” Joel murmurs.

Joel couldn’t stand being in the same room as you—not now, not when you were so close, just a few feet between you. But at the same time, being near you felt like a breath of fresh air, like a cure he hadn’t known he needed. No amount of whiskey could drown out the chaos in his mind, but somehow, when you were around, you quieted it. Just your presence, like a calm that washed over everything else. 

And that’s how he found himself here tonight, standing on your porch, waiting for you to open the door. Waiting for you to let him in—waiting for something to hold on to that might feel real. He didn’t care if it was a lie, didn’t care about the tangled mess of it all. All he knew was that you felt real. The warmth of your body, the scent of your skin, the way you had felt under him, the vague memory of you clenching around him so tight he could barely fuck into you.

He just didn’t expect you to actually invite him in. Hadn’t planned this far ahead.

You watch the flicker of inner turmoil that crosses Joel’s face, the subtle tension in the way his eyes drift, lost in thought. His hand moves absently, scrubbing through the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin. He finishes his whiskey in one slow, deliberate motion, the glass emptying with a quiet finality.

"Answer me this one thing," Joel says, his voice heavy with confusion.

"Shoot," you reply, not hesitating for a second.

His eyes lock with yours, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them. “Why? I don’t get it.” His voice is low, heavy with self-doubt. “Why would you want anything to do with someone like me? I’m too damn old, barely able to keep up most of the time. Hell, I couldn’t even keep up with you. Couldn’t even last long—” He falters, the words choking him for a moment. His gaze drops, embarrassed. “And I lie awake at night, wondering why you'd ever even think about being with someone like me.”

Joel sets his glass down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, his lips pressed into a thin line. The question lingers in the air, but the way he does it—like he’s already decided—tells you he’s done with it.

“Why not?” you shrug, the burn of the alcohol settling in your stomach, a sharp reminder that you’ve had nothing to eat.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, the silence deepens. “Why not?” he repeats, his voice low, almost like he’s challenging you to give a real answer.

“Joel,” you start, swallowing the words that have been sitting on your tongue for what feels like forever. “I’m old enough to know that I wanted you to fuck me. I enjoyed it.” 

His gaze hardens, a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. It’s not surprise. Maybe it’s something darker.

“There are men, more age-appropriate,” he says, his voice edged with something almost bitter, “haven’t you seen the way they gawk at you?” His jaw tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s been holding this back.

“If you mean the guys at the bar,” you cut in, meeting his gaze head-on, “they can gawk all they want. Doesn’t mean I care about any of them. What do you think this is, Joel?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, a woman like you could do better,” he mutters, his voice gravelly. “You don’t owe me anythin’, but... why me?”

You swallow, a mix of frustration and understanding swirling in your chest. It’s not insecurity you see in him, but utter confusion. The question hangs between you, and there’s no easy answer, only the weight of everything unsaid.

“I don’t really give a fuck about what’s ‘appropriate’,” your tone is sharper than you mean it to be, the edges of your words fraying. “So, why not you?” The question lingers, heavy in the air, as a knot forms in your stomach—hot and molten, a slow burn that spreads lower, igniting something between your legs.

“I—” Joel starts, but you cut him off, your words sharp and unwavering.

“No more questions,” you say, your voice low, steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I know what I want. And right now, I want you to fuck me again.”

You close the space between you, the soft thud of him bumping into the table echoing in the stillness as you press flush against him. Your gaze locks onto his, daring, almost pleading, though your tone leaves little room for negotiation.

“Don’t make me beg,” you murmur, the heat between you palpable, every word laced with intention.

“Fuck, you’re desperate for it, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice is rough, strained. You let out a needy whine in response, feeling his strong hands grip your hips, gently guiding you back until your back hits the counter. With ease, Joel lifts you and places you on the counter. His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering, as you grind against the rough denim of his jeans. Your palms slide up the solid plane of his chest, fingertips gripping the fabric before reaching the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Needing him closer.

"Please," you whisper, your voice trembling as you tighten your legs around his waist, offering yourself completely. His breath comes out in slow, heavy bursts, like he's stalling—grasping for any reason not to give in.

“Don’t know how long I’ll last,” he mumbles, his breath hitching, the subtle tremor in his voice betraying the tension building between you.

“Don’t care.” Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, your touch deliberate as your skin meets the heat of his stomach, the warmth searing straight through you. It feels like fire, like the space between you is alive with every brush of your hands.

“You’re the first person I’ve been with in a while,” he adds, his voice rough, as if the admission is supposed to change the moment. As if it might make you hesitate.

“Good.” The word leaves your mouth low and thick, the weight of it heavier than expected. The possessiveness that rises within you is sharp, stirring something deep inside that only makes you want him more. Every inch of him feels like something you’re not sure you’re willing to share, and the feeling claws at your chest.

His breath hitches again, louder this time, as you slide your hand further up his torso, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. The steady beat of his heart thrums through the contact, syncing with your own pulse.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no mistaking the raw edge to it. His fingers curl into your wrist, not to stop you, but as if he’s waiting for your permission, your assurance.

“Never been more sure.” The words come out like a challenge, something to push him further, a quiet claim you didn’t even realize you wanted to make.

“Okay, well, I-” 

“Please, just fuck me,” you plead, the desperation in your voice raw and unfamiliar. You’ve never wanted someone this badly before—you’d drop to your knees and beg if it would make him touch you.

Joel’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, craving more. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment. He inches closer, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, stirring up the anticipation coiling in your stomach.

"Tell me you want this," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends another shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, torn between desire and making sure he had his questions answered. But the way he’s looking at you, the way his body presses against yours—it’s all too much.

"I want this, want you." You finally breathe out, each word a confession.

Before you can even think, his hand rises to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, and a rush of heat floods through you. Without warning, his lips crash against yours—there’s nothing soft or calculated about it. It’s raw, urgent, and makes your breath catch in your throat. The kiss is a little too fast, too overwhelming, and you fumble. Your teeth bump together, and you let out a breathless gasp, desperate to find some rhythm.

You’re flustered, completely out of control, but your hands find their way to his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. The world around you blurs, every nerve in your body igniting from the warm cavern of his mouth. It’s messy, hungry, like you both can’t get enough. 

You want more.

His mouth moves against yours, slow at first. You try to keep up, but your head spins, your body already begging for more. Just when you think you can’t handle it, that the intensity might break you, he deepens the kiss. His lips press into yours with a slow, deliberate pressure that sends a wave of heat crashing through you, pooling low in your stomach.

You melt into him, your chest tight, heart pounding, every inch of you craving more, wanting to feel everything—feel him, feel this—without holding back. It’s not enough. You need more, but you’re not sure if you can even breathe, let alone stop yourself from pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, hungry and desperate, as his hands slide down to your hips, gripping you like he can’t let go. Before you can fully process it, he’s lifting you effortlessly from the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he holds you against him. Your heart hammers in your chest, your body igniting from the sudden proximity. The sensation of him between your thighs, the heat of his body pressed so close, makes everything feel electric.

He moves with purpose, never breaking the kiss as he navigates toward the bedroom in the dark. The sound of his boots scuffing against the floor is steady, like a heartbeat, like a countdown. Your mind races, trying to catch up with what’s happening, but all you can focus on is the way his mouth tastes, the roughness of his hands on your skin, the feel of your pulse under his touch.

He pushes the bedroom door open with his foot, barely slowing as he crosses the threshold. The next thing you know, he’s gently laying you back on the bed, his hands smoothing over your body, the heat of his touch leaving a trail of fire everywhere he goes. Your legs stay draped around his waist, your breath shallow, every part of you desperate for him to close the distance again.

Without stopping, Joel slots himself between your legs, his hips pressing against yours with a satisfying pressure. The warmth of his body sinks into you as if you’re both melting into the same rhythm. Each movement, each breath, feels heavier, like you’re chasing something you’ve both wanted but didn’t know how to ask for.

Your palms cup Joel’s scratchy jaw, pulling him up to meet your rushed, top-lip kiss. His breath is warm, his lips so soft against yours, and the taste of him—so familiar now. You’ve wanted this for so long that your chest aches from the weight of it.

“Can’t believe I never tasted ya like this,” Joel pulls away to say thickly, his voice low and rasping, like he’s just come up for air after drowning in the moment. “Gonna be the death of me,” with a soft shake of his head, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing your lips again slowly.

Joel pulls away one last time, his breath warm against your skin as he rises to kneel on the bed. He smirks as he pulls his shirt over his head, and the sight of him—bare, broad, and breathless—makes something inside you tighten. He looks like he’s only thinking of you, like he’s burning with the need to claim you.

You’re captivated, watching intently as he moves to unfasten his jeans, revealing a trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a grunt, Joel pushes his jeans down to his thighs, his cock springing free. 

“So hard for me,” you say, amazed. Your pulse quickens, and you shift beneath his gaze, your fingers trembling as they slip beneath the fabric of your jeans and panties. The rough material clings to your hips for a fleeting moment before you tug them down, the cool air teasing your bare skin. You move with urgency as you pull your shirt over your head, driven by an insatiable need to connect, to lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you glance up at him. 

You look flushed against your sheets, and he hasn’t even touched you fully. 

“Tell me what ya want, I’ll give ya anything,” Joel finishes removing his jeans and crawls over you on the bed. He trails open mouthed kisses up your sensitive stomach, capturing the peak of your breast into his mouth. 

For a second, you want him to flip you over, to take you like he did before—rough, demanding, with your knees digging into the mattress. But this time, you want to stay on your back, to catch his soft yet heated gaze. 

“Make me feel good again,” you whisper, voice trembling. The cool air makes you aware of the slick heat dripping down your pussy and pooling against the sheets. One of his hands settles on your naked hip, the other fisting himself before rubbing the head against your lips. Your hands find themselves on the soft flesh of his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles tremble over you. 

"This all it takes? A lil kissin’, and you're this soaked?" His voice drops, rough with desire, as he watches, mesmerized, the way you suck him in, the words rough with desire.

“Such a pretty girl, with such a pretty pussy—never seen one so pretty,” he adds, and you can’t help but blush all over under his compliment. 

His forearm rests against the pillow beside your head, the other hand slipping between you as his cock teases your entrance. Just before he pushes in, he pauses, brushing your hair out of your eyes with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His eyes meet yours for a beat longer than they should before he thrusts his hips, and his mouth parts like he can’t help it.

You’re soaked, but he still stretches you, inch by inch, filling you completely. Every movement is deliberate, the pull of him tight inside you, and you can’t help but cling to the feeling of him—of all of him.

A whimper escapes your lips, the sound making Joel shudder above you.

“Ya feel so good,” he whispers, pulling out and slowly pushing back in. It’s like torture, like he’s trying to kill you. His hand comes up and grabs the back of your neck. “So hot, so wet.” he adds in your ear. 

“Please, Joel. Faster,” you whisper, the words trembling with need. He doesn’t hesitate—immediately, he gives it to you like you asked, filling you completely. Every inch of him stretches you, makes it hard to breathe, your body aching as it fits to his. You can’t look away from him—the way his brows furrow, his jaw tight, and that frown of his fading as his eyes close, a quiet desperation painting his face. He looks undone, and it only drives you deeper.

The fullness of him fills the hollow inside you, the ache fading like it never existed, as if he’s the missing part you never knew you were craving—slipping into every space you didn’t even know was empty.

“You’re takin’ me so damn good,” Joel murmurs, his hand moving from your neck, his thumb tracing your cheek with surprising tenderness.

His silence envelops you both, thick and suffocating, as you give in to the raw, primal sounds that fill the air—the slick rhythm of your bodies moving together, the broken whimpers and low grunts that echo between you. Nothing else matters, nothing else exists—just the heat, the movement, the noise. The obscene sound of skin against skin is almost unbearable, drowning out everything but the need.

“Joel, fuck,” Your legs shake, thighs quivering as he strikes a spot deep inside, making your vision blur and your breath falter. Your head tilts back, eyes rolling as waves of pleasure crash over you, each one stronger than the last, a force you can barely keep up with.

“So fuckin’ hot... Fuck, play with your clit.” Joel’s voice drops to a growl, dark and raw, his gaze following the rhythm between you both as he disappears inside you. His chest rises, flushed with heat, and then, with a sharp exhale, he shifts, kissing the side of your mouth—sloppy, desperate, like he can’t get enough of you.

“Want you to come for me... Think ya can do that?” His voice is rough, almost commanding, as he palms at your breast, pinching your nipple hard.

You’re dripping onto him, every inch of him slick as he thrusts into you, his rhythm erratic, relentless. When he accidently slips out, the emptiness is maddening—a sharp ache that leaves you gasping—until he grabs himself and presses back in, a low grunt escaping him, laced with pure hunger. The wet slide of him fills you again, messy and desperate, a connection so raw it makes everything else feel impossibly distant.

“Oh my god,” you moan, already burning with need. Your fingers work frantically over your clit, slick and swollen, desperate for release. A fire builds deep inside, spreading like wildfire, making your legs tremble uncontrollably around his hips. It feels overwhelming, too fast—like you might shatter if you don’t get what you need.

A tingling sensation creeps up the base of your neck, your body instinctively arching toward him. Every muscle tightens, caught between resistance and surrender, as his thursts deepen.

You come—hard—your body seizing, waves of ecstasy crashing over you with such force, you can barely draw in a breath. Your vision blurs, the only sound the frantic pounding of your heart, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. Your walls tighten around him, pulling him deeper, as the orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless, broken.

He groans, his grip tightening on your thighs as he fucks you through it, each thrust driving you further into the haze of pleasure, until you’re nothing but the lingering aftershocks of what he’s given you. You can barely hold on, but you don’t want him to stop.

Joel shudders, pushing deeper, the sensation sharp and all-consuming, as a dull ache spreads through you, an ache that feels like everything. 

“Good girl, fuck…” Joel’s voice cracks, strained with urgency as you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to move. He pulls out with a sharp breath, stroking himself before spilling hot ropes of release onto your stomach, the frantic spurts reaching your breasts. His orgasm draws out, the harsh sound of his groan echoing in the quiet room, and the sound alone sends you trembling, your body arching against the bed.

“Think you’re tryin’ to kill me,” Joel murmurs, his voice low and rough, the look in his eyes still wild as he shifts to rest beside you.

You meet his gaze, a playful spark in your eyes. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time,” you tease, your voice light, but the smell of sex still lingers in the air between you.

Joel’s lips twitch, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stay intense, as if he’s still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t think you need to,” he mutters, but there’s something unreadable in his expression—like he's both caught off guard and addicted to the way you’ve made him feel.

 Good, you think smugly. 

The moment hangs there, suspended between you, before he shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You stay where you are, your pulse still racing, a quiet smile tugging at your lips as you watch his back.

[wxxpingangxls]

YAYO

+content/warnings; gun play, mentions of guns, allusions of cheating, perverted behavior, getting caught, lap grinding??

boyfriend's icky dad toji who always told his son that girls weren't shit, men weren't piss and money was where it was at, until he met you.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who leers at you every time you're over, insisting that you stay longer to "keep megumi company".

boyfriend's icky dad toji who suprisingly puts a lot of effort into his appearance every time he hears your coming over, shaving his beard, even going as far as to making home cooked meals that he notes you love so much.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who always praises you for helping do the dishes and tidying up, claiming that one day he was going to give you a reward for being so good to him ( and megumi i guess ).

boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes any chance he can to get his grimy hands onto your soft and sweet skin, even going as far as to put his hands on your waist as you're doing the dishes.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who makes sure to check on you (and megumi) whenever you were sleeping around, just to make sure the two of you were ok, even though he'd never done that before when it was just megumi.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who, every time you can't sleep invites you to watch a movie with his until you get sleepy, watching those tiny shorts crawl up your fat ass.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes all the chances he can to 'acciedentally' walk in on your undressing, before you catch on and start locking the door.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes gloss over as he tells you the story of megumi's mother and why he was so stoic and stone-faced.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who has to physcially stop himself from grabbing you and fucking you hard, knocking the wind out of you and stuffing your cunt full.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who wonders if you're on birth control, but then the image of you pregnant with his child comes to mind and suddenly his mouth starts watering.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts to let his mind wonder every time he sees you, imaging your stuffed cunny leaking his cum, with your big tummy carrying his child.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who doesn't even feel bad about feeling this way towards his son's girlfriend and gets sloppy when trying to hide it.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who, whenever you're in the shower takes a pair of your dirty panties and stuffs them in his pockets, and whenever you ask him about his dodgy laundry he always alludes to megumi stealing your stuff.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who gets caught jerking off with a pair of cute panties on his face by his son, claiming they were from a one night stand.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who not only sniffs these underwear that he's stolen but full on soaks them with his saliva before drenching them in his thick semen.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts having wet dreams about you and realises something is really wrong, and he needs to do something about this.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who finds himself humping the erection away at the mere thought of you and figures that maybe just sleeping with you once will be enough to satiate his insatiable hunger.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who shows you his gun collection when megumi's out at a party that you couldn't attend because of a sprained ankle, in an attempt to cheer you up.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes light up as he promises to take you shooting one day if you're good - whatever that means.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes tear up and voice break as you begin to explain how his son was fucking around with someone else.

boyfriend's icky sticky dad toji who suddenly wishes to take back everything he'd taught his son, seeing how bad that mentality had fucked him over.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who tries to make you feel better but the only way he can think to do that is to suck on your pretty lil' clit.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who nearly chokes on his beer when you tell him that you and megumi were back together with the same mouth you used to suckle on his cock.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who swears up and down that he could do you better than his son ever could, despite every thought in his head telling him how disgusting that was.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who genuinely believes he could treat you better than any man your age, he swears he'll spoil you despite not even having a good paying job.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who figures that since your so keen on being an independent girl, he should show you how good it'll feel to have a real man by your side.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who aches and yearns and feigns for your soft lips on his, and finally convinces you to lay and relax while he shows you how a real man treats you.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who is undeniably shocked when he finds out that megumi rarely went down on you especially when you cunt was so juicy and sweet.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who is even more shocked when you suggest grinding on his thigh with a gun to your head, watching as you leak and ooze and drip all over on to his plaid pants.

He watched intently, eyes thinning, as your tits jiggled with each grind of your hips against his flexed thigh. One hand on your throat and another holding a gun to your head. Whether it was loaded or not you had no idea, but that was all part of the sick thrill you had flowing through your veins. Megumi had told you all about his father's sick work and the different escapades he'd been on, but having put a gun to your head was an entirely different experience.

It was deliriously sick, twisted and sinister even. It was beyond demented and dangerous. What if his finger slipped on the trigger? Your brains were sure to be blown out of the back of your head. Maybe that was why drool seeped from between your pouted lips and tears welled up in your eyes. Maybe that's why your nose was all scrunched up and sniffly while your cheeks and ears were hot red.

Your hips tried embarrassingly hard to keep up with the bouncing of his leg but it was like no matter how hard you grinded, you couldn't cum. Was it the fear of having you tongue blown out of the back of your cranium? No, it wasn't that. After all, this was all your idea.

As sweet and innocent as you looked, your eyes held a certain insatiable and disturbing thirst behind them. Not the some what normal fantasy of being held by a signifacntly older man while he rearrgenged your guts, but the idea of danger. Crossing the line between right and wrong.

It wasn't as if you didn't shove your used, slick and dirty underwear all the way to the depth's of Toji's throat just to suck the soul out of his hard cock, dribbling messily all over it, disgustingly spluttering and making a hot mess of yourself all over him while he sat there choking on your panties like a whore. Your cunt was throbbing, and your throat hurt like nothing before as you coughed and constricted around him numerous times before gulping his hot and thick load down shamlessly.

So why now, after being to desperate you flick and play with your cunt, could you not get off on Toji? You whined and squirmed and sobbed and cried, feeling nothing but frustation as your fists balled up on the creases of his pants. Your whimpers died down in your sore throat and Toji's hand against it did nothing to soothe the ache.

A part of him relished in watching you struggle to get off, watching a pretty young thing like you yearn for his help with your eyes. He felt a certain urge however, to flip you over and shove his filthy dick between your - no doubt - sopping folds, and show you how good girls get rewarded, but felt as if you needed to be warmed up first. "You need help, beautiful?" he finally spoke after long minutes of watching your pathetic and helpless cries simmer down in your throat.

You groaned out, squinted your eyes in an attempt to ask if he was being serious with his stupid question, hips occasionally stuttering. "Hey, hey, relax baby..." he soothed, removing his hand from your throat despite the hand with his gun never moving from your head. His hand slowly moved from your neck down as his thumb brushes against your nipple and placed his hand on your hip.

"Take it slowly, ok princess?" he reassured. A part of you was surely confused. This whole time Toji had been nothing but sadistic with you. The two of you were as equally as sadistic with each other, you tying his hand up whilst riding his cock to no end. But now he was guiding you towards an orgasm. "Thereee you go, sweets," his hand that was once on your hip now cupped your face as he moved closer, nose in the crock of your neck. This was intimate to say the least, and you were sure he was going to come up to give upon those beautifully glazed lips.

You whined out loud, feeling his breath tickle your neck, but that was the least of your problems as now you could surely feel a big wave coming. Toji saw as your hips twitched and your toes curled and uncurled: "Oh? Are you gonna cum, sweet girl?" He could feel your naked cunt throbbing hard on his clothed thigh. He immediately sat up, green eyes on your own big ones, watching as you silently pleaded. Pleaded for what, you had no idea, but he surely did.

He knew you wanted to make a massive mess all over his trouses. Completely soak him in your sticky fluids and watch as he gets turned on even more. With every exhale you made, his pupils dilated even more, as if he was getting higher and higher on your impending orgasm. His hand never once left your face and with every deliberate roll of your hips, he pushed that cold metal gun further into your skull.

You stuttered out cries of his name, before attempting to stand up. It was far too much for you, and your orgasm was going too soon. But you were too slow, for his entire arm snaked around your waist, keeping you on his lap, watching as you soaked his leg with your cum. You gushed uncontrollably, begging Toji to let you go as he just snickered in your ear, telling you to hush down and stop freaking out.

He figured that this must've been the first time you've squirted, as you're shaking non stop. Your mascara was dried up on your cheeks and lip gloss all smudged from earlier. Almost ironically, as you came down from your intense high, the outro to Floods by Pantera came on the radio.

Toji was a sick and an icky man, and he lay in seamed in your fluids with zero shame, while his son lay asleep in the next room. He watched as you took in hard and deep laboured breaths, still trying to compose yourself. I guess now you knew how he felt when you went down on him. Him seeing you squirt all over him, confirmed the thought of wanting to see you stuffed full with his own icky fluids. He finally moved the gun from your head before placing it down.

"Would you have really shot me?" you whispered out, voice still coarse.

"Are you crazy? That gun was empty." He scoffed, scratching his stubble.

"That's a stupid question, Toji, and I would've loved for the gun to be filled to the brim," Your cunt throbbed as you imagined Toji's huge cock pounding you hard, hefty arms keeping you in place.

[saeish]

simon riley who is a walking contradiction.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you” except his hips piston into you at such a quickened yet deep angle as his arms trap you between the sheets in an undoubtedly possessive manner - as if he was to go absolute insane if you were to ever leave him or even dared having such a thought like that.

it reminded you of that ‘bastard from your workplace’ who had offered you an evening out to dinner to discuss ‘work matters’ one friday night, simon would glare at you across the room leaning on the door frame in the process of your getting ready in a way that if any stranger was to witness such a glare they would of sworn he was your enemy “where ya going looking like that pretty girl?”. eventually you found out your coworker was trying to take you home to his and get into your pants. that day you came home to a pissed off simon blaming himself for letting you go, he’d already seen through the idiots plan - call it common sense but it was definitely part of the forward thinking he’d developed from time in the military. “stop getting yourself involved with miserable blokes who don’t even know a thing or two about how to treat a woman proper dove” his fingers delicately remove your necklace lightly tracing your neck with one rough finger. it took a lot trying to convince simon to let the situation go.

simon riley who always reminds you of the analogy he tends to make whenever he notices you get a bit too clingy. “ just a weed that happen’ to be kept alive beside a pretty flower”, you continue kissing down from his jaw to neck practically inhaling his musk in attempt to have it instilled into your senses. his words just end up falling on deaf ears every single time.

“leave and go find someone else worthy of you”, except he accepts the hand crafted bracelet you give him as you say quietly: “you don’t have to wear it, i just thought it would be a nice memory of us when you’re deployed”. he’s brought back to a point in time when you asked what his favourite colour as you run off in suspicion after getting your answer. now he looks down at the bead combination of your favourite colour with his closely inspecting the thing. you begin to mistake his intense stare at the bracelet as a disinterested one causing you to immediately withdraw your hand back muttering how you knew it was a silly idea, however a quicker gloved hand gets a hold of yours as he snatches the bracelet from your hand without thought. “sorry dove i ain’t mean it like that i’ve just never been gifted such a thing like this before, i really do appreciate it. it’s not silly at all.” moments after your wrists are engulfed by simon’s hands on the sheets as the bracelet adorns his own wrists. “better not hear news that you let some bastard in your panties when i’m gone, ya hear love?” you hastily nod as you throw your head back in ecstasy to then pull simon down to indulge in a deep kiss.

simon riley who feels it necessary to firmly claim you as his in front of his fellow task 141 members to avoid them making jokes about stealing his “pretty thing away from him”. oh how he regrets so deeply the time when he accidentally revealed a picture he took of you that one time you were in your pretty yellow sundress; it was something simon just couldn’t let go of or else it would of been gone in a blink of an eye so he decided to take a picture. as much as you hated being caught off guard in pictures simon’s photo was different, he managed to capture a radiant smile that was enhanced by that sundress you wore that day. such a prized possession reached the eyes of people that weren’t him. his intentions to show them pictures of the enemy base sight took a turn when in the middle of his swiping the men would catch a glimpse of your picture. “pretty lass you haven’t introduced us to yet?” johnny raises his brow with a wide grin on his face. “is she your missus? didn’t know you were into young women like her”, price lets out a chuckle and lightly elbows simon. “better shut your bloody mouths”. now they get a glimpse of your bracelet as it falls down from his wrist to his lower hand but none of them dare to say an inch. shit, and you were debating on how long the string should be and stuck with the smaller side of the scale. “did ya see the thing?” price mutters to johnny, “eh, what are you on about?” “the bracelet ya knob!”. johnny gives him an expression of sudden realisation letting out a long ’ahhhh’. “I know it ain’t one that you can get from ya local jewelry shop down the road, it’s definitely from the missus he still ain’t tellin us about”. “you guys are still going on about simon’s mystery woman?” kyle walks into the mess room shaking his head, “you know how simon will react if he catches you guys talking about her.” johnny gets off of his chair slapping a hand against the table, “oi we weren’t talking about his bonnie lass in particular but we were actually-

simon walks into the room with a flat expression on his face causing complete silence among the men way too quickly. “oi is there a problem?”

simon riley who eventually returns at the end of his deployment with the belief that no one was at home waiting for him anyways except to his irony you were there patiently waiting for him the whole time, waiting to welcome him back and accept him in such comforting arms. when he’s finally in your hold you urge him to stop his bluffs, stop all the pushing and insisting you to stay as far away from him as possible and you finally finally tell him you don’t care about whatever terrible thing he could possibly be in comparison to you, you just want to be able to hold him and truly declare that “you’re the only one worthy of me and you’ll always be the only one worthy of me”.

requests always open ･:*

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[northernsiberiawinds]

Thief.

Hi @nonvme​ how are you?

I usually solve such issues in personal messages with the authors to give them the opportunity to simply apologize and not repeat their mistakes, but this situation has upset me a lot, because I wrote to you in the comments a few months ago, but you never answered me (your private messages are closed).

You steal my textures and call it your own, as well as sell it on your patreon without any permission and credits.

Let's start from the beginning.

1. https://www.patreon.com/posts/sakira-skin-and-67386343

“credits: obscurus-sims, lamatisse, and google lol” — absolutely no mention of me, it's amazing, because it's almost entirely my texture.

“Do not claim as your own, I work way too hard to have somebody else try to claim my stuff“  —  It's so nice to ask to respect your work when you don't respect someone else's.

Do I need to comment on something? She just took my skin n7, added a couple of details on face and called it her own. And she put it in early access on her patreon to make money on already free сс. She listed other authors in the credits and didn't mention anything about me.

2. https://www.patreon.com/posts/precious-skin-75050799

“Do not claim as your own, I work way too hard to have somebody else try to claim my stuff“  —  and again. The duplicity of this man never ceases to amaze me.

Here she changed a bit more, but she used my skin's face as a base. And again, no mention of me in the credits.This time she didn't mention credits at all, but I see at least @obscurus-sims​ details.

3.

“Credits to Slephora, Obscurus, and Pinterest for all respective bits and pieces”  — okay.

And again, no difference. The textures are identical.

Honey, if a person wants to use my eyelids, he just uses it. There is no need to put my cc in early access again, which has been free for three years.

I want to say that I create my textures completely from scratch, without using EA blanks. Absolutely all the details on my skins are created by me. And as an artist, I can say with confidence that it is impossible to create a texture that will match someone else's pixel by pixel. It's impossible. Moreover, most of my textures are completely drawn by me. What refs from the Internet is she talking about? Did you take refs out of my head? By Bluetooth?

@nonvme you can still apologize and I won't hold a grudge against you. Just apologize and remove my textures from your page. If you had answered me a few months ago and corrected your mistakes, then I would not have written this post and would not have spoiled your reputation. But you didn't answer me.

I'm sorry that you all had to read so much text. I hope your day is going much better than mine.

P.S. I had to re-post to remove some 18+ pieces from the skins.

UPD 15/06/23

Guys! Thank you so much for all your words of support! This is really very important to me. I didn't even expect you all to support me so much. I don't have enough words to express my gratitude to all of you 😢❤️!!!

Nonvme deleted CC that included my textures, and also promised not to use it anymore. It's enough for me to forget about this incident and don't contact patreon support.

I want to add that any author who makes his textures from scratch knows every pixel of his texture. The author of the original content will know if you have used his texture, even if you have somehow modified it. If you steal other people's textures and you haven't been caught yet, it only means that the author hasn't seen your page/cc yet, because he can't monitor the entire Internet. But one day he will find out about you, do not doubt.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Random meet the batfamily reveal situations i dont see enough of so have some examples/prompts

The JL: Batman is truly terrifying. No one has the guts to lie to his face

The JL: *video calling the batcave*

FEW MINUTES LATER

Spoiler: *walks across the room and is seen as she passes behind Batman*

The JL: wait! Its you!

Batman: Spoiler, why and when did you have contact with the Justice League?

Spolier, no hesitation: i have never met these people in my life

The JL: WHAT? What are you talking about?!? We saw you two days ago

Spoiler: wasn't me. I don't know what to tell you, you must've saw someone else

------------------------------------

Batman: *turns on his camera for the JL zoom call*

THE BATCAVE IS COVERED IN GLITTER

The JL: uh, Batman?

Batman: *steamrolls right into the meeting material so he doesnt have to talk about falling for a prank*

-------------------------------------

THE WATCHTOWER CELLS, WHICH HOLD THE MAJORITY OF THE BATKIDS

Batman: what happened?

The JL: well this group broke into the Watchtower and put Green Arrow and Green Lantern in the infirmary! They refuse to tell us who they work for or how they got past security-

Batman: *trying not to laugh because he is pissed that they broke into the Watchtower and possibly compromised them all but the image of Lantern and Arrow sitting next to each other in matching bandages like cartoon characters is hilarious*

Batman: i can answer one of those questions. This group typically works with me. They are supposed to be stationed in Gotham right now.

The JL: WHAT

Batman: Nightwing, what could not be accomplished at the cave that this many of you needed to come here?

Nightwing: well, uh, you see...

Batman: Robin, why are you all here?

Robin: there was a... incident in Agent A's kitchen. It is no longer usable. We are here seeking asylum from his wrath.

Batman: *facepalms*

The JL: *gasps at the facepalm*

Batman: one of you blew up the microwave again, didn't you?

Robin: i will neither confirm or deny that claim.

-------------------------------------

THE JL STAND SURROUNDED BY DEBRIS. A EXPLOSION GOES OFF IN THE BACKGROUND.

Batman: *dealing out his children's punishment*

The JL: damn he's really giving it to them

Orphan: *hugs Batman's arm and gives him puppy eyes*

Batman: *speech falters but he keeps going*

Nightwing: *comes up behind Orphan and rests his chin on her head, also giving puppy eyes*

Batman: *speech begins to taper off*

Signal: *starts faking a leg injury and claims to be exhausted*

The JL: no, he's not gonna FOLD is he?

Robin: *refuses to stoop so low as to use these tactics but is adorably sulking behind them*

Batman: *folds like a house of cards and the kids get off mostly free AND with hugs*

The JL: *are flabbergasted*

-------------------------------------

JL SCREEN IS COMPROMISED DURING A MEETING AND IS NOW DISPLAYING A VIDEO CALL

The JL: how did you hack our security?! It's the best in the world

Red Robin, clearly exhausted: i built your security you fu-

Batman: Red Robin. What can we do for you.

Red Robin: answer your damn phone when i call you.

The JL whispering: who does this guy think he is?

Red Robin: we're out of coffee. I need you to swing by the store on your way back or just steal some before you leave.

The JL: you interrupted our very important meeting because you want Batman to go grocery shopping for you!

Batman and Red Robin: no coffee is a emergency.

Red Robin: *cracks open a five hour energy*

Batman: please don't-

Red Robin, making direct eye contact: *pours five hour energy into a can of monster*

Red Robin: desperate times call for desperate measures, B

------------------------------------

Nightwing: it's freezing out here.

Nightwing: *pushes Superman aside so he can wrap Batman's cape around him*

The JL: uhh

Batman: i told you to bring a jacket.

Nightwing: jackets limit my mobility. And last time i brought one it got slashed to pieces and i had to buy a new one. I cant do that every time it gets cold!

Batman: *sighs*

The JL: did Batman just sigh in defeat??!!?!!!??

------------------------------------

Oracle, interrupting a meeting: Batman. It's been four hours.

Batman: i am aware. Thank you Oracle.

Oracle: you need to eat, B.

Batman: i am fine.

Oracle: then you shouldn't have a problem eating. I know there are snacks in your belt.

The JL: is Batman getting bullied by his own AI?

Oracle: i am not a AI. And i will hold up this meeting until you eat.

Batman: *grumpily pulls out a granola bar and starts eating*

------------------------------------

Red Hood: *marches right through the Watchtower and up to Batman*

Red Hood: you did not tell Robin to "just watch" Pride and Prejudice!

Batman, calmly turning in his chair: i did, yes.

Red Hood: i can't look at you right now. I don't know if i can ever look at you again.

Batman: the one i recommended is praised for it's faithful adaptation-

Red Hood: it's not the same! There is no substitute for reading a Jane Austin work!

Red Hood: next you'll tell me you've never read it

Batman: *silence*

Red Hood: YOU'VE NEVER READ JANE AUSTIN?!

Red Hood: get your stuff, we're leaving.

The JL: where are you going?

Red Hood: to a bookstore!

Red Hood: i'm coming over for lunch tomorrow and you better be at least one chapter in. You hear me, B?

Batman: Hn

[thezoraprince]

Classmates - zora x reader headcanons

“I know you’re closed bestie but I’m just sending this in before I forget it in my goldfish brain. I have a particular classmate in my geology courses that takes every opportunity they can to work with me, and he basically doesn’t do his own work and makes me teach him things even when I don’t understand. I’ve have to talk to professors about him before, and I thought he’d finally leave me alone and then BAM the fothermucker was back at it again!! I get so drained from working with him, and it honestly ruins my day. But I can’t tell him no or else I look like the bitch. How would Bazz/Sidon/Ledo/literally anyone defend their sweetheart from this behavior when they noticed?” - @rocklover719

you and @bertie-bats are literally keeping my blog alive. not because of the requests, but because you both motivate me to write stuff lmaooooo (i have 0 drive to do anything right now, so your presence in my inbox is greatly appreciated)

i only did zora's for this one, and i wanted to add more, but my brain is literal mush rn. i made Bazz's the longest though, just for you :)

i hope you enjoy :) 

(p.s.: i’ll kick someone’s ass if i need to. i’m willing to make the 24+ hour cross country drive <3)

Sidon

he listens so intently as you vent

and he has half a mind to go talk to this person for you

but he knows it would be best if you did it yourself

“Y/n… if you come off in a way that seems… bitchy… then that’s his problem.”

he’d do his best to make you feel better

“You can do it. I believe in you.”

but of course he’s coming with you

because he wants to be there for emotional support

Bazz

as soon as you begin to vent, he’s ready to kick someone’s ass

and you have to sternly tell him no

“Y/n…”

“Bazz…”

“What? He’s a grown adult. He should know how to behave and that his actions have consequences. Let. Me. Handle. It.”

he’d sneak into class with you and watch everything unfold, watching how this guy weasels his way into your space and practically steals your work

and as class ends, he’d walk up to the both of you, pulling this guy to the side

“May I speak to you for a moment?”

you know shit’s about to get real

“I don’t really appreciate how you’re using y/n’s knowledge for your own benefit.”

you can hear them from just around the corner

“It’s uncomfortable to watch, and I can’t even begin imagine how [they] feel. Please stop, or you’ll be seeing more of me.” 

he’d come find you after, walking with you to wherever you needed to be next

“If he tries that again, let me know.”

RIVAN

this whole conversation is ‘I’m not listening as your partner. I’m listening as your bff.’

“Omg he did wHAT? That’s CRAZY!”

he actually lets you vent without trying to solve your problems

being a single dad has taught him a few things

“I think someone has a crush on you. Oooh!”

but he’ll definitely ask if you need him to step in

“But in all seriousness, if you need me to do something about it, you know I will.”

eventually, Rivan would sneak into your class

and instead of talking to the guy about the situation…

he’d give him a taste of his own medicine

Rivan would practically beg this guy to work with him, claiming to be a new student that got transferred in late

and you can bet after that, this guy will never speak to you again

Ledo

Ledo is 100000% taking this class with you

so he knows exactly how everything plays out

after class he’d pull you aside, making sure you’re out of ears reach from this guy

“Next time that asshole tries to pull that stunt, say you’ve promised to work with me.”

he’d sit next to you every day after that

and he’d be sure to give that guy dirty looks when you’re not looking

Torfeau

you vent ONE TIME

just once

that’s all it takes for Torfeau to ‘discuss the situation’ with him

[noneorother]

By far the dumbest movie reference no one caught in Good Omens is : The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse

I'm working on a theory that requires many hours of movie watching, so here we are. Many people have already mentioned that the nazi zombies/Furfur is a The League of Gentlemen comedy troupe shoutout. But I'm taking it one step crazier. Remember the opening scene from the 1941 minisode of S2E4, the one with the london bombing and the Angel statue in the bottom right corner ?

Haha sorry my bad. That's the climax intro scene of the movie The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse. Here's the opening scene of the 1941 minisode:

You can excuse the confusion after seeing both, with how they look pretty much identical (yes this is giving me The Tales of Hoffmann PTSD, thanks for asking) And it's not very coincidental when you know who helped write the minisode.

You know, just the fourth member of The League of Gentlemen and writer of the movie LG Apocalypse. So shall we tease out all the (I'm warning you) EXTREMELY dumb quotes and story beats this terrible movie has lent to the 1941 episode? There are quite a few. But there's also a potential story arc that isn't so dumb... (TW offensive comedy, including mild gore)

In order to understand this you probably have to know a bit of background on British show The League of Gentlemen. "[A] surreal British comedy horror sitcom... follows the lives of bizarre characters, most of whom are played by three of the show's four writers – Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton, and Reece Shearsmith – who, along with Jeremy Dyson, formed the League of Gentlemen comedy troupe in 1995." You don't need to know all of the characters or backstory of the show, just that it's a fictional town with many fictional characters played by the same three writers (and an invisible fourth).

(Also known as all these people right here) Want to know who they plays a stand-in for Jeremy Dyson in LG Apocalypse and gets murdered first with black marker on his face?

Say hello, baby Sheen!

So we've seen the bombing scene, what about the car driving through fire and Aziraphale's suggestive line at the beginning?

Yup.

Do the characters make a deal with a Reece Shearsmith character to enter the real world through a church?

HECK YEAH. Bonus points for the green background.

A gag about fake lips with Steve? Sure.

Steve Pemberton seen here as a nazi zombie, and also here playing "Herr Lipp" (also known in the actual script as "the worst pun in the world" in the movie. Groan). What about Mark Gatiss Stealing binoculars from Steve to spy on two important characters? But of course.

Surely not the arm falling off too?

Oh dang. It's a big plot point in LG Apocalypse you say? Then, in the climax, does someone in dark sunglasses who doesn't know how a rifle works fire it at a main character, and the other character who he misses says fuck? Now you're pulling off my arm..

Well I'll be damned. The only difference here being Steve's head exploding, naturally.

I'll admit, I have trouble seeing where a giant 3 headed chimera beast that destroys a bunch of characters fits in at the end of the 1941 miniode, but I don't think 1941 is meant to be a stand in for the whole movie, because at that point in the movie the role of the main characters shifts to become the real versions of Shearsmith and Gatiss, not the characters. But even though the end of the movie doesn't track with 1941, I think the moral at the end is interesting : "In the church, Lipp says he will kill Gatiss. The other characters try to dissuade him, saying that once all the writers are dead, Royston Vasey will cease to exist and they will die. Lipp claims that they will in fact be better off, because as long as they're controlled by someone else they have no free will and can never change for the better. Tipps tells Lipp that because he saved the day and can therefore change, Lipp need not kill Gatiss. He persuades Lipp to hand him the gun, only for Tipps to accidentally fire it and kill Gatiss.

With all the writers now apparently dead, the residents of Royston Vasey prepare for the worst. Instead, everything calms down and The Apocalypse is averted. The characters realise they now have free will. Herr Lipp adopts some orphaned children, the vet, Mr Chinnery, finds a rabbit and is able to take care of it without killing it, and Bernice and Pauline become romantically involved. Tipps leaves the church, waving goodbye to Edward, Tubbs and Papa Lazarou. It appears that Royston Vasey can continue to exist independently of its dead creators." This struggle for free will outside of the plan originally set out by their creators, especially in the context of said creators not really caring about them anymore, really starts sending red flags up for me. Crowley's existential crisis at the beginning of S2E1 seems to be mulling over similar themes. The lack of any God narrator as in season 1 might be a change in storytelling technique, but might also point the the creator being absent, or having moved on without really letting her original creation know it gets to exist on it's own now. Funnily enough, this is the second movie with shot for shot quotes throughout, that places a specific set of characters at the center of their own deeper plot that has a meta level to the storytelling. I'm starting to think there's a pattern here...

_______________________________________ Here's my series on the Tales of Hoffmann, another movie hidden within the series.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can you do hcs for Alastor with an s/o who's sort of like ALIE from The 100 (she has no soul, she can be anywhere and everywhere and only appears to those who she allows to and those who can see and hear her she gains their soul and gains power over them, she is self-aware and despises humanity due to their ability to love others, but she cares for Alastor as she thinks of him as a good friend and potentially more, the more who fall under her thrall the more powerful she becomes) and she appears as the image above?

(This was close to my AM story, but since there was room to add a little romance and conflicted feelings between both parties, I felt I could make this something different! I hope you like it!)

You were a legend in the demon world, someone as notorious as Alastor. Hiding in the mist and ready to strike whenever the time was right. You were the mist, and you were damn scary at that.

In your years, people called you soulless and a monster. You did as you pleased, not caring who you hurt or damaged. This made you many enemies, but you were always one step ahead.

When you died due to a calculation error on one of your plans, it was only the beginning of something more. You found that once you arose in hell, you could bend people here to your will as much as you could on the mortal plane.

You were the first sinner to land in hell already soulless, where your soul was no one, not even yourself, knew. This gave you an advantage that no one else ever would have, the ability to bargain freely and always come out on top.

By your first year in hell, you had accumulated enough souls that you began to be overrun with power. Able to shift in and out of planes of existence, stealing souls without even uttering a deal, becoming a terror to all and any that spoke your name.

Some people in hell thought facing off with the affamed Alastor or even Camilla would be better than ever running into you; that's why when Alastor came back from his seven-year absence to hear about you on the street, he needed to see what was up.

However, you were particular about being found; you only showed yourself to those you wanted to show yourself to—those you would try to steal and keep for yourself.

Hearing that the Radio Demon was after you was interesting; you made it a game to always be just under his nose when he was on the hunt. You learned so much about him and his little friends in the hotel.

You didn't expect that as you were learning about Alastor; he was just as diligent in learning about you. His shadows were able to follow you in your secondary form as well. Who knew shadows and mist were so closely connected.

When you finally showed yourself to the Radio Demon, hoping to claim his soul, he already knew your whole way of working. What was more unnerving was that he never looked away from your eyes, even though that's how you took souls.

What surprised you more was that you couldn't take his soul because he didn't have a soul to take. "What could possibly lead to a great demon like you not having a soul?" "Well, I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I, Y/N"

That smile always haunts you from that day. His very presence made you angry and annoyed. The damn red man made your blood boil. There was something so frustratingly intriguing about him.

You would slowly find yourself wanting to be around him. Purely for research, that is all. You only wanted to hang around to find out who owned his soul so you could take it yourself.

You only became 'friends' with those lower demons at the hotel because it would be strategic to be 'friends' with the princess. Not because you wanted to impress Alastor by being able to handle the people with whom he surrounded himself.

You slowly found yourself beginning to worry and care about Alastor and the damn brats at the hotel. Especially when news broke out that the affirmed first man would appear to take it all down. If you knew Alastor, he would play a power game and challenge the angel.

Your suspicions were correct when you faded into the old destroyed radio tower and found him doubled over in pain. A large gash from his shoulder to his hip was bleeding as he manically laughed and mumbled to himself.

You helped heal him, saying it was only because you would miss out on taking over his power if he died. Not because you wanted to see his stupid smile or hear those corny jokes.

As Alastor returned to his usual self, you noticed you two were always together, his hand on the small of your back, your arm laced with his, even the occasional kiss to the cheek or back of the hand.

Before you knew it, Y/N, the great Mist Demon, was in a relationship with Alastor, the great Radio Demon. You wouldn't say you had a soul; neither did he. Something in you, though, moved when you two became so close; you didn't want to save his soul so you could take it. No, you would save his soul so he could ascend to a free, soulless paradise with you.

[ateez-himari]

Hi bb!!! How have you been!!! I've been busy with exams but i still have 4 to go, anywayssssss I'm back for more questionssss because I'm nosy🤭🤭

1-has hima ever gotten into scandalous scandals(lol) cause they're some crazy scandals in the industry, especially concerning female idols

2-how is hima's relationship with the other members' families, ik woo's younger brother would love her

3-during her career has anyone spoken badly about mimi, cause the industry thinks it's funny to always look down on ateez and steal their whole concept 🤦🤦

4-this might be weird so feel free to not answer it, butt have mingri ever been called out for their acts, especially during their tours cause I'm guessing they now share a room tgthr

5-what was himari's reaction to THIS

HE SHOULD'VE GAVE US A WARNING DAMN IT

Love you bb take care mwahh💓💓

Hi sweet!! I've been under a lot of stress but overall I'm okay! I only have 2 more exams to go so I'm feeling somewhat relieved. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR QUESTIONS I LOOK FORWARD TO THEM EACH TIME!! 🥰

• One of the biggest scandals came during 'Kingdom : Legendary War' because her scars were visible (not by choice) and people were claiming that she was promoting SH, even though most were aware that these were from the accident. The most recent scandal was actually not that long ago; people were calling her rude for cursing at one of the BTS antis that set up the funeral wreaths outside of the HYBE building, but obviously Atiny could not care less. (One of the antis started taunting her seeing that Himari was shaken by the wreaths - this girl literally almost lost her brother several times - so she walked over to them and said "how about you get a fucking job instead of obsessing over someone that will never know your name ? go home and get a life bitch")

The rest were mainly dating scandals (especially with Jungkook which made the two of them laugh so hard), scandals about how close she is with the members or even about how she started wearing clothes that are 'too feminine' and 'too sexy' (she used to insist on wearing the same clothes as the members but when she got comfortable with her femininity she started wearing more feminine clothing)

• The members' parents are so glad that there's a girl in their life to keep them in check, but after learning about her past they've all taken on some sort of parental role in her life as well (she's very close to Mingi & San's parents). Hima is really close to Haneul since she only has brothers, so having a sister figure is a welcome change. Getting close to Kyungmin was a little more difficult seeing as she's afraid of being around young children (an irrational fear developed through her childhood trauma) but the boy took to her so quickly that she had no choice but to accept - now he thinks of her as an older sister. She's not actually that close with the other siblings but they're close enough to be called friends

• So many people, especially variety/talk show hosts since being the only girl in an all male group makes her an easy target for jokes such as "you're living with 8 hot men and you haven't slept with any of them" or even questions about how she got into the group in the first place - even though the survival show demonstrates the grueling effort se put into obtaining that spot

Many of those people used Yoongi as an insult, saying that she was probably copying his production style or getting tracks from him, etc., even going as far as accusing her of plagiarizing smaller artists (that they conveniently did not name). So many claims were made about her talent, her dancing, her stage presence, image, etc., but nowadays she's beginning to snap back at them (the first that took hits was "Sun" from My Teenage Girl, she was so pissed that she stated "maybe i should have given the producers the original demo tracks, i bet they would have loved to copy that too since they're so unphased about taking the chorus. what else do they want ? our music show wins ?" when people defended the song saying it was a sample error she showed the instrumental to prove it was all from scratch

• So many times that at some point gossip sites were having field days, especially now that they've gone public since as we know there are always going to be people who refuse to accept idol relationships. People were finding it 'inappropriate' that she would so casually sit on his lap during lives, that they kissed so publicly, etc. A lot of 'fans' even criticized them for most likely being intimate while they were sharing the same hotel room - which at some point Mingi had enough of and simply said "yeah, so what ? how do you think my verse in 'man on fire' was written?"

• Hima has seen Mingi in much less clothing many times over their relationship but these pictures had her going absolutely FERAL, she practically jumped his bones the second they were uploaded. She didn't even say anything, just dragged him into his room and the other members knew it was time to leave. This woman was practically drooling over them, she squealed so hard into the couch cushions that he came rushing out of the shower

HE REALLY SHOULD HAVE, I WAS HALF ASLEEP AND THE SECOND I OPEN MY PHONE THIS POPS UP ?? THIS IS MADNESS, HE WANTS US DEAD

Love you too Mina!! Good luck on your exams and take good care of yourself! Mwahhh 😘❤️

[tuxebo]

for my old friends, like og old, you might remember this post. however, my sweet anon that just sent that rdr2 ask about my thoughts on it, you just unlocked my tenth eye. arthur morgan with the poshest bastard known to fucking man. your fancy words, tight ass clothes, even your perfect posture is disgusting. (to which, of course, you would say the exact same about him)

when you fall into a ditch for arthur to stumble upon, the worst person that could possible find you, to say you had a rocky start is the understatement of the century. why he saves you? probably because he assumed you were wealthy and based in the area, he's be able to steal from your estate if you just trusted him and shared a little too much information.

come to find out, you're a little brat miles away from home and now you're his responsibility because 1. you know about the gang and their location and aren't allowed to just go and 2. no one else wants to deal with you.

to be fair, you are not entirely useless. yes, trust that arthur puts your hiney to work, as soon as your broken ankle is healed. you speak to the rich folk that typically wouldn't give him the time of day on his behalf, negotiate the shit out of whoever is unfortunate enough to do business with the both of you, you also help him befriend some of these rich folk so that him and javier can pay them a "visit" later.

granted, all of those "pros" comes with a price because you are nothing if not high maintenance. also, you talk a lot. it kind of comes with the territory, knowing all that you claim you do. arthur pays the price (well the gang does because he cuts it from what he donates) and it's definitely a good cause.

however, let's talk about the little things. the way western riders and english riders ride are undeniably different.

first off, hands. you're used to riding using both hands at all times, you were around people that did the same. you heard about people who didn't (western riders) but now you were around them all the damn time. imagine the first time you saw this man use his gun while on a moving horse, taking a perfect shot? man, oh man. he does pick up on your little fascination rather quickly and in the beginning uses it to show off, to one up you, but intentions change, at some point.

more on hands, when you try to ride with one hand, you almost fall off when your horse took got startled and picked up a little too much speed. worry not, however, our hero caught you before you could fall and readjusted you with his free hand. like nothing happened, he just kept riding unfazed like nothing happened at all.

secondly, sports. occasionally, when out at about, someone would notice you don't exactly look like your average joe from valentine. like arthur was challenged to a shooting competition, you were challenged to a fox hunting, which you gladly agreed. you did quite a bit of fox hunting with your friends and family back at home, now it was just you and arthur versus three other guys, which was of no concern. of course, you beat them by a day, earning the two of you a quite a bit of coin. but the money is actually in watching you, ever so concentrated, track a fox. arthur didn't realize you were useful for more than that mouth of yours, which you claim is his fault because he never asked.

finally, forms of control. the way you ride is very different. while it's something that kind of flies over your head, it's not so much the case for arthur. at first he noticed the way you ride and it kind of annoyed him, but it was appreciable when he watched you ride in an empty dressage ring you stumbled upon when you stumbled across some large estate. why you move so much on the saddle over such little distance, maybe he'd get answers from sitting back and watching? can't hurt to try.

more on forms of control, one thing you do notice is how "aggressive" arthur rides. not in an abusing the horse way, but it's nothing like your gentle riding. you had control with your reins, he did in a different way. this kind of ties in with his balance and ability to ride and do different things at the same time, but he was able to lasso people and pull them to his horse without a much thought, take control of horses while racing alongside it on his own like he was a sport. as neat as you kept yourself, sweaty arthur during sunset? yes, please.

okay, if you know, you know. all this while being enemies?? now, i could go on for hours. he is so fine. i want to talk more abt it so bad, someone please tell me you see the vision.

[ladaveen]

ArthurxEames fic recs

These are my favorites and not in particular order I just love every single one of them, also some are probably smuts so beware hehe

Presque Vu by rageprufrock : this is probably THE arthureames fic, I was floored by literally everything in the story

M | 69k words

Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.

Early Returns by rageprufrock

M | 15.5k words

Thinking that a reporter genuinely likes you is pretty much on par with feeling like you really are special to that stripper.

Trouble With Dreams by sparkledark

E | 39.7k words

College AU in which Arthur is a cranky senior and Eames is a professor of Dream Psychology.

These fragments I have shored against my ruins by aprettyaway

M | 10.2k words

This is what his life has become: hotels and coffee and reveling in those few hours he has to himself. The French news lulls him to sleep, and Arthur thinks if he can just get through this job, then it will be over. If only.

Late Night Phone Call by sparkledark

E | 14.6k words

Arthur usually finds blatant fishing for compliments extremely irritating, but in Eames’ case he is reluctantly charmed. In fact, he writes the phrase “reluctantly charmed” into the Eames notebook the moment the words occur to him because they so perfectly encapsulate his entire situation.

Pants on Fire by Helenish

E | 15.1k words

"Ah," Yusuf says, lifting a reproving hand, "are we calling less than 24 hours of memory loss amnesia now?"

we were once cinema gods in the night by gyzym

M | 21.3k words

That's the thing about Hollywood--everyone has a Hollywood story.

All's Fair (In Love & Werewolves) by Whisky (whiskyrunner)

E | 29.6k words

Arthur is lucky to have Eames. Somebody just as different, someone who understands when he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like he's all alone in the universe. Eames makes that feeling go away. Eames, however, is not alone.

Incipit by thehoyden

E | 8.5k words

Arthur has been his editor from the beginning. Eames says he won't work with anyone else, and what Arthur will never tell him is that he would cut anyone who tried.

between my reflex & my resolve by gyzym

T | 4.7k words

People you kiss in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Arthur's chest is doing. There are rules.

Catalyst by five_ht

E | 3.3k words

Arthur is a freshman omega in college who hasn't yet had his first heat. Eames is a friendly alpha who is willing to lend a hand.

Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name by eleveninches

E | 3.6k words

Many people, Eames would find out later, assumed Eames had wanted Arthur from the moment they'd met. It was true Arthur was devestatingly attractive, but in all honesty, the first thing Eames had thought when he'd met Arthur was, Why did Cobb bring his son? (Or: It's all about trust.)

Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer by eleveninches

E | 19.7k words

Arthur joins the mile high club, Cobb joins the broken hearts club, Eames joins the smug extractors' club, and Yusuf just wants to club everyone. Or, Eames steals Cobb's point man.

In Our Line of Work by enjambament

T | 15.7k words

Arthur wakes up and realizes the last ten years of his life have been a dream. He is nineteen, and he can barely remember where he is. What he can remember is the ghost of Eames’ hands pressed down on his chest trying frantically to stop the blood flooding up around his fingers as Arthur died (as he woke up).

[coeurcanelle]

☆Baby,the stars shine bright☆pt3

pt1,pt2, pt4,pt5

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

wlw,fluff

wc:4k

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Her name is Ellie. She's been with her gang for a year now, and her favorite activity is driving through the city with her friends at night. She revealed she only has one parental figure, not her biological father but a father figure, which explains her taste in fashion.

Ellie somewhat resembles you more than your dad when you think about it. Both of you are the same age and spend most of your time doing things you enjoy, although she's more of a night owl while you're a morning person. Her favorite color is black, whereas yours is pink. She enjoys hanging out with people she bonds with, while you prefer solitude.

"Last Christmas with Joel, we decided to try decorating our house with cool lights, so we bought them and spent the evening displaying them all over the facade. We even got a little Santa with his reindeers and placed them on the roof. It looked really cool. But the next morning, everything was gone," Ellie admitted, implying she was just as reckless as you, but you disagreed.

"That's not just bad luck; you're just cursed."

Thieves weren't uncommon in the area, but catching them was difficult, as you were learning the hard way. That's why Ellie offered you a hand, claiming she had nothing else to do, although she felt bad for you. She didn't say it aloud, but she appreciated that you didn't accuse her of stealing your purse, and she would never forget that.

That is all you managed to get from her as you wandered around your isolated village looking for the thief that stole your purse.

You felt like a desperate mother searching for her lost child in the middle of nowhere. You could laugh at how desperate both you and Ellie looked, asking every single person you came across if they'd seen your precious item. But, with the luck you had, you were nowhere close to getting it back. Everyone gave you the same nerve-wracking answer: "sorry, I didn't see anything around, but if I do, I'll tell you right away".You were losing your patience by the minute, and Ellie could feel it.

"They all sound suspicious repeating the same thing",you sighed as you ranted. Yes, you were to blame, but no matter who it was, you were going to make them pay, a million times the price of your bag. There was no way you could let them get away with this.

"It's not like theyre actually going to say they stole it"

Both of you stopped walking, not only because you were tired but also because you had searched pretty much everywhere in this village. The clouds were hiding the sun, darkening the ground beneath, like your aura losing its brilliant colors and giving room to the darker ones brought by despair.

The only thing you could do was cry, but you were even too tired to shed tears. "I'm done."

Giving up was an option, but it wasn't part of Ellie's nature. "Maybe they don't live in this area."

"I dropped it in front of my house, and it's a small village in the middle of nowhere. How is it that out of nowhere, a thief popped up to get it?" Despite replaying this scene countless times, the lack of clues wasn't getting you anywhere. You started to wonder how someone could even do this to anyone; you wouldn't wish that upon your worst enemy.

It was just a purse, but you carried your wallet and your ID card with it!

It was becoming a serious matter

"maybe because thieves dont come out of nowhere, you're not thinking hard enough"

"are you saying I'm like a thief magnet or something ?"

ellie looked at you up and down not knowing if she was supposed to act surprise at your remark"how much did your purse even cost?"

she made you answer your own question confirming you were indeed a thief magnet,by dropping you purse you had actually dropped 5000 bucks on the ground !

who the hell puts that much money for a bag? Ellie thought

"that's not bad luck,you're just stupid," you could tell she had been restraining herself from saying this for so long, but you couldn't blame her.

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One more thing you would have never guessed about Ellie is how intelligent she actually was.

The thought of taking the train to go to Tokyo to find anyone selling your precious item, where you can target a big crowd of people, hadn't crossed your mind until Ellie brought it up.

You assumed your brain was badly functioning from the lack of reward after working so hard to find the thief. You have been walking around for what seemed like a lifetime to find nothing but more exhaustion enveloping you.

It made you wonder how the freckled-faced girl in front of you looked still full of energy.

Maybe she was just excited to beat up someone; after all, it might be just another normal day for her.

Most of the time, you'd find yourself enlightened walking around Japan's capital city, but under those circumstances, your mood couldn't get any better.

"It kinda looks similar," Ellie pointed at a purse displayed in a convenience store. She was trying her best to help you after gave her a precise description of your purse. Unfortunately, she has a very poor imagination.

"Not even close."

The weather became cloudier as you and Ellie wandered around, looking at everyone suspiciously. It was going to start raining, but Ellie had spotted places where you could stay since you didn't have an umbrella.

You only accepted when you came across a cute coffee shop.

🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆

With Baroque paintings displayed on the rock walls, the smell of menthol perfumed the whole place, and jazz played softly on speakers, you couldn't help but already fall in love with this place.

Ellie sat across from you, repeatedly trying to light up her joint, ignoring the 'smoking is forbidden' sign in front of the shop.

Silently, you sipped the hot tea, letting the aroma amplify once it touched your tongue. You didn't need much to be happy. Certainly, you didn't need Ellie to smoke in front of you, blowing some of it your way. The poor girl failed to catch your attention away from your tea, feeling ignored.

You kept silently drinking your tea, cherishing your daily tea time, closing your eyes to quiet your worried thoughts for a moment. The motorcycle girl took out her joint and lit it up again; the flicking sound was starting to annoy you.

You opened your eyes to her taking a puff from her nose

"stop that"

even though you were slightly annoyed she managed to get your attention back to herself

"man im just trying to lighten up the mood"ellie said after blowing the smoke out of her nostrils proudly.

You liked the smell of cigarettes, and though you didn't smoke, you could tell she was, in fact, not smoking one. That's why you refused when she proposed you take a puff.

Instead of convincing you, she tried to impress you by taking another puff with her other nostril.

"Seriously, do you get paid to be a clown?" you asked, trying to annoy her, as you lifted up your cup to drink more tea.

"I thought about it, but I'd lose my job if they ever hired you," you almost choked on the tea, making Ellie laugh so hard she put a hand on her stomach. You had just confirmed what she had said as she watched you cough, almost coughing your lungs out.

"Was it the weed that was making Ellie stop taking everything personally?

"I'll charge you with attempted murder," you said, rolling your eyes at the girl in front of you.

After a while, Ellie's rambles attracted all your focus away from the taste of the tea and the jazz music playing, but you weren't complaining as she was interesting to listen to. The reason she bought a jacket similar to the her other ones was that her gang was organizing a festival, and it was coming soon, she wanted to look brand new. All she needed was to find a local designer to write the name of her gang. The money she had came from her dad and giving guitar lessons, which surprised you; you didn't expect her to be an artist.

A new side of her was shown to you as she kept rambling. You noticed how she scratched her neck every now and then, the way she would speed up her speech when she gets excited, and when she'd stutter a bit when you were keeping eye contact. She stopped talking after realizing she's been the only one talking, but you truthfully didn't mind.

"so when's the last time you killed someone ?" you asked making the girl in front of you confused

Ellie discovered a new side of you too; you were more of a listener than a talker, and for a person like her who likes to ramble, it was a win for her.

"I said I'm from a gang, not that I'm a local serial killer," Ellie explained. The Ellie you would have just met would have answered defensively, but her tone was rather sarcastic. She was bearable when she didn't take everything personally.

It was true that many gangs out there have blood on their hands, killing their opponents but also innocent citizens. But Ellie didn't share the same values and joined a gang you've never heard of before.

"I joined Dina's gang after trying to run away from home. I didn't know how to fight at the time; she taught me everything. I owe it all to her." The more you talked, the more questions you had. The conversation easily switched from carefree to serious.

The deadly gangs you would hear about were the ones targeted by Ellie's gang, which is motivated by values of respect and loyalty rather than free violence. That is why you've never heard of it, because most gangs are like the ones your father was once in.

This also explains why ellie is still following you around helping you to find your stolen purse,but this also makes you wonder....

"why did you run away?"

Suddenly, Ellie realized she had been oversharing quite a lot, but it's not her fault that you have such a trusting aura!

Getting better at reading Ellie, you realized you touched a sensitive subject and looked away from her, back at your now-empty cup of tea, trying to change the subject. "i'm still wondering though..." You recalled the letter you received from Ellie, the one with childlike writing.

"how did you discover where I live?" You didn't forget how Ellie mentioned she would meet you at your house instead of you going up to hers, but maybe that's because, in this case, you would have thought it was a trap and you wouldn't come there. You thought about this, but it still doesn't unravel the mystery of her knowing exactly where you live, which was kind of unsettling.

"wasn't hard. I just followed your dad after he was done selling in Tokyo." The casual tone in her answer just made the whole thing even more unsettling. You wondered if it was just the weed and hoped she was lying.

"you mean you stalked my dad?" You asked, hoping you were the one hearing wrong.

"how is that stalking? I just followed him to your house, but not like that..." Ellie tried to explain rationally but made things even worse, confirming you had been hearing perfectly.

"girl, did you drop out of kindergarten? That IS stalking. Why would you do that?" You were absolutely at a loss for words. More confused than upset, you knew Ellie didn't mean to harm anyone, but her way of using rational thinking was still questionable.

Ellie sighed,she didnt know how to explain this while sounding sane"first of all shut up I didnt drop out,I just wanted to know where I could get clothes from him thats all"

thats all ?

"you were literally going to beat me up when I showed up instead of him",you said raising your eyebrows,you werent even upset you just wanted to tease her

"no-omg-okay maybe.. but everything turned out fine"the auburn haired girl stuttered as she scratched her neck again,you noted she'd do this when nervous

"i should call the cops on you wtf"

ellie looked up at you,with a stupid smirk on her face"you need me you cant do that"

You played along, pretending to be upset as you got up and started to leave. However, Ellie felt bad, interpreting your sarcasm as seriousness, and grabbed your arm as she started to apologize for stalking your dad.

"I was just going to pay for the tea," you said, but Ellie got up instead, doing it for you.

You hadn't expected her to take your playful act seriously, but it was kind of hilarious.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

It was true that you needed her help to catch whoever stole your bag. She knew how to fight, and she did look scary to people. You could already imagine the scumbag surrendering and giving back your precious item... but then again, this looked way too easy.

After your tea time and Ellie's smoking session, you went for another round of walking, looking for your purse.

"She's probably wearing a blue frilly dress like you, because your bag is blue. I guess she wanted to match."

"I've never seen another lolita girl in my hometown," you might not have any clues, but you might have a lead.You told Ellie it might be an average mid-30s man who happens to know the worth of your purse but Ellie was reluctant.

However, you finally decided to file a report of your stolen purse to the police, hoping they would do a better job at catching the thief. After doing so, you walked outside where Ellie was leaning on a wall, smoking again. She remained calm despite the fact that you didn't catch the thief.

"You know what? I'm convinced we're living in a simulation, and that none of this is real. We might be aliens sent from Mars, or maybe we're re-experiencing past life memories, or maybe we're just in some deep coma we have to wake up from."

Although you didn't smoke, you seemed more high than Ellie. "never try smoking."

How was she still happy enough to make jokes despite how awful this situation is making you feel?

"maybe its a life lesson,I should stop buying expensive things from now on"

"oh c'mon its really not that deep,you dont like your purse anymore or something?"

"It's not that-"

"if you can buy one you can buy another one",ellie walked up to you after tossing her joint on the floor giving it a few stomps to put out the burn

"do you think money grows on trees or something ?"

Ellie looked you up and down, from your embroidered white headband to your 'Alice and the Pirates' frilly dress and your white platform boots. She didn't see your outfit as just a simple ensemble, but rather a bag full of gold, ready to be converted into money.

"hell no, don't even think about that," you said firmly. No matter how difficult things could get, you would rather be killed than sell any of the clothes you own. It was like reselling Christmas gifts; you grew emotionally attached to those priceless dresses.

"I knew you'd say no. I was just joking," Ellie said before both of you went on to another activity:getting money to buy a similar purse. Cleaning people's shoes, betting on the three shell games, pickpocketing... You realized getting money in Tokyo wasn't that hard, but none of these options appealed to you for now.

You had to find something that would certainly get you money.

Ellie walked beside you, looking around too. You wondered if she was joking around because she was high or just letting her guard down. Either way, you didn't mind her being this way.. She had stopped spitting and approaching you like she was going to headbutt you after you got to know each other better.

"how about this?" ellie stopped and pointed at a building as she looked at you with a smirk

"I have enough trouble as it is, adding more isn't something I'm interested in," you replied. Wasn't it obvious that you've never been into criminal activity before? So why was she thinking about robbing a whole bank?

The sigh that escaped Ellie was one of pure disappointment, though she was half-joking. But that changed once you stopped by an eating contest.

"Spicy food contest, winner gets $100," both you and Ellie read on a large poster placed on a table. A few chairs were arranged around the table, and your eyes followed some people seated in front of a chef's hat. Only two chairs were unoccupied. You looked at Ellie, unsure if she would agree, but she instantly read your mind.

"I've eaten spicy food before, it's no big deal."

Your energy shifted to competitive mode; there was no way you could consider losing, but if you did, you hoped Ellie had your back."what kind of spicy food, though?"

"just trust me, it's a piece of cake," the auburn-haired girl said before stretching her arms and neck as if she was preparing for a fight. She wasn't considering losing either.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Already 2 minutes in, Ellie's face was red from the spiciness. The contest consisted of eating a whole plate of different spicy foods under 5 minutes. From noodles to chicken wings, Ellie felt like her tongue was on fire!

Milk wasn't enough to calm down Ellie; she felt like drinking a whole river.

You, on the other hand, were handling it pretty well; your grandma used to give you a bottle of Tabasco to punish you as a kid, so this was nothing compared to what you had experienced.

Maybe pain does make you strong?

"Time's up! Everyone, open your mouth!"

With luck and a little bit of courage, your plate was entirely empty with no crumbs left compared to other contestants. Some even tried to cheat by hiding their food under the table, but it still didn't stop you from winning!

The man who organized the contest congratulated you and rewarded you after cleaning up the table. Ellie looked at you in absolute shock; she also felt kind of humiliated after what she had told you, but at least you got what you came for.

"It's just spicy food, no big deal, yeah?" You couldn't help but tease Ellie about it. The confident look on her face vanished from the moment she started to eat the spicy chicken; she wasn't even looking at you, embarrassed.

"shut up, I was close to beating you." You just laughed at her words; her face was still a bit red from eating. You counted up the money you had, only a few bucks, and you could buy yourself a new purse!

"wanna go for another round then?" The auburn girl stayed silent and responded with a violent side-eye. You understood you had to find another way to get money rather than eating spicy food...

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Ellie convinced you to bet the $100 you won on the three shell game after refusing multiple times. It turns out she didn't lie when she said she was good at seeing through those scams.

"I used to learn magic tricks when I was 10," she told you, and you didn't need to know what for after she got your money doubled up. Only a few bucks were left, and an idea popped up in your mind as you and Ellie kept walking in Tokyo: "why don't you bring your guitar and play here?"

The thought of playing in front of everyone was making Ellie nervous, not because she was bad or anything, but she didn't want to come across a potential enemy of her gang. She had to keep her tough image, especially in the streets.

"uh, I'm still learning, and I never practiced in front of a big crowd," Ellie lied, but you kept insisting.

"come on, are you really that bad? You said you've been playing since you were a child"

Despite your insistence, it didn't have the same effect on Ellie as it had on your dad.

"It doesn't mean I play like a professional; plus, there are many other ways to get money," Ellie kept giving you reasons, but you finally stopped insisting. In fact, you didn't need to get money anymore to buy a new bag...

You finally found it!

Ellie noticed the change in your expression and wondered what was going on, so she followed the direction of your gaze.

There it was, shining bright like a diamond, as blue as the sky, begging to be back in its place. It was an average man with a long beard in his mid-30s, carrying it as he walked in front of you.

Ellie turned her head to look back at you, silently asking, 'Do you want me to take care of him?' But you didn't want to leave this to Ellie. You felt rage building up inside you along with a sense of relief; you had to make him pay.

You ran towards the man who was walking in front of you, hoping to catch him before he disappeared again. The sound of your platform boots approaching made him turn his head in curiosity before you jumped on him. Both of you fell hard to the floor; his head hit the ground while his hands were still clutching your purse.

You snatched it out of his hands, not caring about hurting him. You were more hurt than he was after what he's done. The look of pity on his face made your blood boil. He even had the audacity to reach for your purse again!

"It's mine, you fucking dumbass bitch. Try to ever steal from me again and I'll slit your throat open until you bleed to death. You can have fun stealing other people's bags in hell." You spat on his face after stomping his stomach, releasing all the anger you've been carrying.

This man needed to be humbled.

You've always been told to fight back. If someone hits you, you should hit harder. And if the person hitting you still has the audacity to hurt you, you didn't hit hard enough.

The man finally stopped trying to get back your purse as he was busy spitting blood. You stopped hitting him, considering that was enough karma for him.

You had to let him know you weren't a person to mess with.

Despite your brilliant and cute clothes, a wise soul and a strong character were hidden within, one that despised being bothered.

You walked away from the man, making sure your purse still had your personal belongings, unaware that your scene had attracted the attention of the people around. You approached Ellie, who was once again at a loss for words.

The girl also walked up to you. "how can you even run in those?" She pointed at your shoes.

"practice, I guess," you shrugged your shoulders before taking Ellie's hand. You didn't know where to go, but you definitely didn't want to stay in the eyes of the people who had witnessed you beating up a 30-year-old man.

You began to walk, dragging Ellie with you, but she stopped. "wait."

You were met with confusion and dropped her hand

Was she scared or something?

Ellie was also bad at reading people, but you made things even worse for her. You were like a book with covers that didn't match the atmosphere of the story, but the side of you that you had just shown got her hooked.

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of motorcycles roaring nearby. You had attracted a whole gang!

They were all girls wearing the same jacket as Ellie's, no helmets, no weapons, but they were still radiating an intimidating yet powerful energy. Their motorcycles stopped just behind Ellie, and you felt the girls' intimidating gaze on you. You looked at Ellie, wondering what was happening.

Ellie didn't even need to turn around to know that it was her gang. She kept looking at you.

"why don't you join me?"