#stoopid fresh!

[euesworld]

[leadendeath]

._.

[kiefbowl]

as a horny woman, I can assure you, when women want to fuck, you can do almost nothing wrong. show us you have a stocked fridge with fresh produce. show us you own one (1) book. doesn't even have to be a good one. have a bathroom at least as clean as our own bathroom. tell us some good natured jokes. say nothing racist or the word bitch. drink only one beer. ask us a single question.

the fact that men constantly FUMBLE horny women is a testament to their idiocy. you can't put on some barry white and light a candle? what are you stoopid???? big dumb fucko stupid 4chan porn addicted losers whining all day long about some alpha beta omega who gives a shit pseudo science cooked up by shut ins...just be NORMALLLLL

[xbellaxcarolinax]

SUGAR DADDY!MIGUEL HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD (literally)

imagine him 'breaking in' every single one of his cars by fucking you in them 🫠 IDK

I am such a whore for this man 😩 Thank you to the anon that started it all <3

Let's just say Miguel is STOOPID rich, yes? Okay.

NSFW

...

He'd purchased a smaller car this time.

It was not the fanciest one he owned—just a simple BMW that was meant for local drives.

It was fresh out the lot when he picked you up from university, the paperwork from the transaction carelessly tossed on the passenger seat. When he saw you, he rolled down the window so that you could recognize him. You were surprised he didn't pull up in his usual black Benz.

"What's this?" You asked in awe, your eyes tracing the sleek shine of the new vehicle.

"Your new car," He answered with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What—for me?"

"Mhm."

A grin broke out on your glossy pink lips, your eyes twinkling in excitement. "Are you serious?!"

"Si, hermosa," he beckoned you forward, and you wasted no time bounding up to him, giving him a kiss, "vamos."

It was tradition to "break in" his new vehicles.

Granted, this was your car now (which you'd affectionately named Elle), but it was still under Miguel's name, which meant he'd been determined to fuck you in it. So he did.

The smell of new car invaded your senses as he rammed his cock inside your slippery heat, your juices coating the brand new leather seats.

He skillfully moved above you, craning his neck so that he wouldn't bang his head, his large body caging you in.

Your puffy cunt gushed all over his length, and he followed soon after, filling you to the brim with his cum. As always, he pulled out, watching his spend pour out your aching hole and watching it slip through the cracks of leather.

When you pouted and complained about the mess, he hushed you, dipping forward to give you sweet, syrupy kisses.

He promised to get it cleaned, and if that wasn't enough, well, he could always get you a new one.

[bicho-kromer]

Another halloween drawing :3

This one was a bit rushed because I wanted to finish it for today

Sans as an skeleton

Blue as a vampire

Fell as a werewolf

Killer as saw

Dust as hannibal

Horror as jason

Ink and error as mario and luigi

Nightmare as a plague doctor

Dream as a witch

Geno as a mime

Outer as an alien

Fresh as the coronel from kfc

Epic and cross as stoopid

Reaper as an angel

[idkiwasntsupposedtobebackhere]

my unpopular gilmore girls opinions (like actually):

-i don’t mind lane’s husband zach. like i think he was kind of a moron but he stepped up to the plate and was consistantly there for lane. why do people want lane to pine for dave 10 years later like he was her one and only soulmate instead of a really cool guy who was a really cool guy bc he wasn’t on the show long enough to get a villain arc. i think the problem with lane’s storyline is that she didn’t get to go out on an adventure, not that she settled down with zach instead of dave. i would have been pissed if she got pregnant and stayed in SH for life even if it was with dave.

-i don’t think everything that went wrong with luke and jess was jess’ fault and that he only had himself to blame for getting kicked out. like luke taking jess in no questions asked was a really great gesture but he didn’t know what he was doing from that point on. him doing a nice thing doesn’t mean he’s somehow abow getting slightly critisised for handling a lot of things wrong. like i do think a 17-18 yo is entitled to a place to stay without conditions and despite screwing things up and luke needed to either fully be that person or not at all

-i often hear ”rory said no to logan’s proposal just to be his mistress later, she should have just said yes”, which… no, it’s ok to want something at 32 that you didn’t want at 22 (disclaimer: it’s not ok to sleep with someone else’s fiancee). i even hear a lot of people say rory should have said yes to logan even without bringing up AYITL and i really don’t understand why this is the general opinion. and i’m not saying this because i’m team jess over logan, i wouldn’t have wanted jess and rory to get married at 22 either. we’ve known since season 1 that rory has dreams and plans to travel and when logan proposed and they presented it as kind of a 50/50 thing i was baffled because ofc it’s a no. also if someone tells you ”either we get married or we break up”, always break up!!!

-luke and lorelai… are not compat- i mean initially they were cute, but just on a fundamental level- i mean… ok actually i’m not brave enough to go there, maybe in the next post. all i’m saying is that i rooted for them as much as the next guy and that they probably wouldn’t have been truly content if they never gave a relationship a go and they’d probably always be jealous of the other’s romantic relationships a little bit BUT that they’re too different (both personality wise and in handling stuff in general) to actually create a life together. they work in the diner setting but seeing each other 24/7 and agreeing on day to day decisions? idk. oops, looks like i went there anyways. also i’m not saying i don’t like them together, in fact they’re together in every single gilmore girls universe i have in my head but yk

-jess wasn’t the best boyfriend but a lot of their issues was rory subconsciously comparing what jess did with what dean would have done and their relationship was never going to work with such a fresh breakup hanging over them like that. the issue of jess not calling rory and making a plan and rory being mad that she had to sit around and wait for him to do it for example is not jess being malicious, it’s just them genuinely having different expectations and ideas of what a relationship is which could have been solved with a) some communication and b) dean and lorelai not breathing down their necks and preying on their downfall

-i think lorelai could stand to butt out of rory’s life and be a bit nicer to her step-nephew but i’m always gonna back her when it comes to her parents. i have no patience for the ”richard and emily weren’t that bad”-crowd. i’m tired of hearing ”lorelai is pissed because she gets thousands of dollars in exchange for a free meal, is she stoopid?” when it’s so much deeper than that. her sacrificing her own boundries for the sake of rory’s education is actually quite admirable (would emily swallow her pride and values and do something like that?). bc now i actually love emily as a character and enjoy her more than the gilmore girls sometimes. and as an audience we can obviously see that she cares about lorelai. but it’s emily’s responsibility to actually make lorelai feel that. because even tho emily thinks she did what was best for lorelai, it clearly did not make lorelai feel loved, because it was all according to what emily herself wanted.

-i don’t think this is that unpopular but i’ve heard many different takes on this. if lorelai wanted to be overdramatic about rory fracturing her wrist that is within her right, her kid was in the hospital after all and that is scary. however, where she was absolutely just objectively in the wrong is where she went ballistic at luke who’s supposed to be her best friend when he got the tiniest bit concerned over his nephew’s whereabouts after he had also been in that car accident. her screaming at him that he had more of an obligation to herself and her kid than the kid he’s literally in responsible for? this is just one of those situations where i feel like she wasn’t being an adult. it would have been understandable for like lane to barge into luke’s and yell jess’ name and scream that he should never have been allowed in this town but lorelai is 33.

part 2 soon?

[cherubispunk]

UP IN YOUR ARMS (CHAPTER ONE) -Noir!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: The Canary Club. Illicit. Underground. Dangerous too. But nowhere near as dangerous the affair you and Joel start there.

a note from Lucy: chapter one! I'm digging my own grave here. thats all im saying. i promise it is focused on joel and the reader later in the chapter. im just setting the scene for differnt relationships in the series.

playlist

wc: 6969 (haha lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! 1940s!au, no outbreak, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his 40s), smut. p in v sex, oral - f receiving, oral through panties, choking, groping, sexism, mentions of racism, touch starved joel, me being back on my bullshit, drinking, ,smoking, throwing fists because men are stoopid and cant talk things out, cheating on the readers part, but joel knows this and still fucks her like the horny bastad he is. *sigh*, use of pet names such as doll, cursing, ww2 references, an unhealthy relationship between reader and joel, mentions of blood, let me know if ive missed any warning out that should be tagged. 6969 words of unedited bullshit because im piss drunk and cant for the life of me edit.

series m.list | m.list

The jazz band was one of the finest groups in the city. ‘Only the finest for The Canary Club’, as Johnny had put it. 

Johnny Boy Finnick. 

Now he was a man. Played sports in college, muscular, strong arms that pinned you to the wall or mattress or table. Hands that shuffled playing cards with ease and had you screaming far after the night was over. Deep blue eyes and blonde hair that never fell out of place from its slicked back style. Not even after he had crushed someone's jaw under the weight of his pummeling, bloodlusting fist.  

Johnny made a name for himself bootlegging liquor, too young to fight in the first world war. Took over as The Boss of Boston. It’s how he got his name. Johnny Boy. Fresh faced but the heart of a ragged old man. Lost it all after the second world war, gained it back not long after. A killer with a bone deep yearning for blood, money, violence, and you. 

He sat in his pressed suit, legs parted as he leaned over to display his full flush to the table, flashing a killer smile when he collected the money off his right hand man and three more of his boys. You smiled from the bar, beads of your dress twinkling in the low light of the speakeasy, ready to waltz over with another old fashioned and drape yourself in his lap.

“Thanks, Henry.” You smiled at your oldest friend, taking the drink he had placed down in front of you on the bar. Henry was your age, 25. A boy from Hartford, Connecticut, grew up in Kansas, then moved here looking for work in a big city. Honest, hardworking. Sweeter than cherry pie. And his little brother Sam was just the cutest pip you'd ever seen. 

“No problem, Doll.” He teased, which deserved a roll of the eyes from you. 

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“This would make it…” he glanced up for a second, as if calculating within his mind, “one too many times to count.”

“Funny.” You gave him a quick bitter smile. All in good fun, clearly, for he took no offence. He just shot you a smile, running a clean rag over the bartop, collecting two glasses and wiping the rings of condensation they left upon maplewood. 

“Your man looks thirsty. Might wanna take him his drink now. Before he gets the wrong idea about me talking to ya.” You sighed, craning your head slightly to look back at Johnny who scanned the place with a scowl. It made your skin crawl the thought of his temper snapping again. Despite it, you left Henry with a playful wink his way before swanning back over, placing Johnny’s drink in front of him and a vermillon kiss to his cheek. 

Johnny sneered at the affection, wiping your lipstick stain from his cheek. All the confidence you had fell to the floor and shattered miserably. Liquid courage sloshed on the cured wood floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Doll. What you do that for?” He demanded of you, the disgust in his cruel cerulean eyes sending a chilling, agonising jolt down your spine. 

“Sorry, Johnny.” You shied away, folded your hands together, eyes on the floor.

“Ain't you gotta powder your nose or something? Go on. Piss off.” 

He was right. You’d be on soon. Drenched in the spotlight. Under the scrutinising, side cramping glare of everyone's eye. You could do with the quiet. So you shuffled off to your dressing room without a word more, holding back tears with your breath. 

In the mirror, you mourned the girl you were. Mourned the life you had before it all turned upside down. Mourned the man you fell in love with. And the monster you had no choice but to stay with. 

—

Joel was fuming. If you touched his skin you'd reel back with a scorched yelp because his blood ran hot, fast and thick under his flesh. Trust Tommy to catch himself in the web of underground crime. Always a joiner. Always a deserter too when things got heated. And who was left to untangle him from its intricate, venom snared weave? Joel ‘Gubbins’ Miller. He might as well have ‘mother to my brother’ branded on his forehead. Because that's what he was now. 

The war ended four years ago and ever since Tommy had been searching for his purpose. Preached about it round the dinner table in their grimy, mildew inhabited apartment like a preacher would his sermon. And every time it set Joel’s teeth on edge. Because he knew what came after the downfall. The pickup. 

Now, however, Joel was determined to nip this lunacy in the bud. Tear it up from the soil by the new roots. 

The Canary Club was one of the few remaining speakeasies around in Boston. To a cop it was practically a ghost of an establishment. Might as well not be there. But to a man like Joel, whose brother never stopped babbling on about the next best thing he had cooking for himself, it was as easy as pie.  

A shroud of cloud hung just above Boston’s looming buildings, teaming with the early moon to create a murky gloom over the dim city’s sin. It seemed to fill the hollow, smoggy air as they cast dark, taut shadows over the slick, grimy roads. The sky threatened rain for the third day in a row. A place that reeked of underground crime, drug rings and watered down, once bootlegged alcohol, laced with what one can only assume to be illegal too. All of that was washed down with the constant sour smell of new rain upon dirty tarmac. A city plagued and tarnished by its own rejects.The promise of work bought them in. But the lifestyle spat them back out. Chewed up and ruined by their own humanising hope.

He and his brother came in search of work. They were getting nowhere down south in Texas. On the dole and barely able to afford a loaf of bread between the two of them. Even their own mother hardly recognised her boys after the war. Said they were empty shells of men. Husks of the boys she raised. Killers. 

The woman was a pacifist at heart. And it was a trait that Joel not only saw as weak, but typical of women. Or that's what his father had socialised him into thinking. He didn't know where his father’s ideals ended and his started. As the days went by he saw more of the violence his father harboured in himself. Grimaced at the lug in the looking glass. 

Joel was no pacifist. But he didn't storm through the doors either. No gun was in hand ready to send people screaming bloody murder. That was stupid. A mistake that he knew could wind him up on the concrete in the flooded gulley with a bullet in his head where blood and water could finally mix. Instead he stole in quietly in the ambience of playing cards and a Jazz band, ordered himself a drink, and sat at the far corner of the bar where it was dimly lit. Just enough for him to see his drink and the room, but his face still remained shadowed. 

While he sipped in ponder, he took the chance to people watch. Scan the patrons for any uncanny resemblance of dear Tommy. But nothing. He seemed distracted by the careful and steady hand that polished glass after glass, though each of them were spotless before touching the rag. 

A pointless task. Some may say sisyphean. But the boy doing so knew when eyes were on him. It was a very rare occurrence if not related to his race. People of any darker colour were ogled often in these parts despite it being more accepted within the north of America. There was still divide and segregation. However, this new patron wasn't looking for Henry’s skin colour, rather contemplating how on earth a boy such as him had ended up in such a place. What connection he had to the gang. Was he like Tommy? Roped in at the side of the side of the road and choking on his remaining pride. Or in a sticky financial situation? All these questions seemed to circle like the rag in the crystal glass Henry held. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Joel asked him with an ex-smoker's voice, brow dark in the shadow. The boy looked up, eyes youthful, but they'd seen things no man should have to. 

“Henry.” He said after a beat, quick to refill Joel’s glass when it was empty besides a drop circled thin and amber in the bottom. “Yours?” Joel lifted his head, taking a sip before placing his glass back on the bartop in furrowed brow contemplation. 

“Joel.” He leaned forward on his forearms, haunched over the bar, before looking around again. “Whatcha doin’ here, Henry?” 

Henry laughed slightly, looking down at his feet before back in Joel's eyes. And what he was met with was the hollow ache of a man scarred by war. Henry’s face fell flat. 

“Working.” 

“No…I mean in Boston.”

Henry cleared his throat at the sudden, and even brash way Joel approached his question. So much that it took him a second to frown and then reply. 

“Came from Kansas. Hard for a black kid to find honest work there. Especially with a family to look out for.” His words were solemn and reflected a truth Joel knew all too well growing up down south. Even if he never lived it in his own white skin.

“You look a little young to have a kid.” 

“I don’t. I got a brother.” Joel nodded as he listened, waiting for him to go on. Which he did after a beat of silence. “Bright kid. Bright future too. He’s deaf though. Got a lot stacked against him in this world. Mom can't bring in enough to fund education for ‘im. So I stepped up.”

“No Daddy?” Joel asked and Henry shook his head. “How’d you end up here then?”

“A girl.” The look Joel gave Henry was sceptical. But the young boy was soon to put a stop to it all. “Not a girlfriend. Just a girl. We grew up in the same building. She moved up north for a life and I followed a few months later. She met a guy. A wealthy guy. And she wrote to me often of how swell Boston had been for her.”

Joel wasn't the questioning type. Neither one to beat around the bush. But Henry intrigued him. Reminded him a lot of Sarah. The challenge she had faced with the colour of her skin that he, as a white man, would never understand. He felt a guilt about it every day that flared up in the dark of night before his eyes closed for restless and futile sleep. “And this guy?”

“Him.” Henry nodded subtly over to the table of men playing cards. Poker. A game Joel knew well in the frontline and in Egypt where he fought. Him and a few others often huddled together in their own game. Nothing but the last pair of intact socks to bet on, or a single cigarette to get them through the night. Joel quit smoking the moment he got back. Knew it was something that made him unpredictable and jittery in the best of situations. “Johnny Boy Finnick. A big name in these parts.” 

Joel followed Henry’s gaze, but his attention was snagged by the unmistakable head of dark curled hair facing away from him. He knew his brother anywhere and his blood began to boil as he threw back his second drink and slammed the empty glass on the bartop. 

“Hey, man-” Henry tried, shoulders straining as he stood to attention. Joel didn't pay him any mind. Merely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before his bar stool sharied upon the varnished wood floor. He cared not for the noise. Only the feeling he would get once his closed fist met the bone on the bridge of Tommy’s nose. 

Trumpets flailed to a stop and drums failed mid blow. The room fell silent after a chorus of gasps. 

He loved his brother. Deeply. So much it caused a chasm of a rib cracking hole in his chest every time Tommy slipped up. But he saw red now it all caught up behind his lids that blinked once. That split second of not seeing and before he had a chance to second guess, he was gripping the back of tommy;s collar and wrenching him up to his feet to deliver a shiner to the face. 

Tommy staggered back, and everyone at his table stood up with the intention to harm. Yet no one but the brawling brothers fought. As he gained his footing again, he also gained his senses, recognising Joel anywhere. 

“Joel, what the fu-” He was hardly able to finish before another shooting pain split his bottom lip open and Tommy’s mouth was filled with the taste of his own bitter blood. Blood he and Joel shared and were now shedding in a futile fight of nothing but testosterone. That was enough to send the same foul blow to his kin. Joel winced, knowing the crescent of a bruise that would bloom on his cheekbone overnight. One of Tommy’s many rings sliced his skin. He felt warmth in crimson dribble from a fresh flesh wound. 

“Hey!” One loud and bellowing voice that had the power to command a whole unit of men boomed out before neither Joel or Tommy had the chance to throw another fist. It was for the better. Any more and Joel’s knuckles would have bruised purple. A colour of shame. 

It was Johnny. And his face was stoic as he stared each brother down with a burning gaze that had even Joel’s hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck. Like an army stood to attention before the first charge. Except he didn't move. Joel knew now where he stood in the food chain of this speakeasy. And it was right at the very bottom. “You!” He pointed at Tommy. Go clean yourself up.” And Tommy went as pale as a funeral sheet before nodding meekly. His face melted from shock to shame in the blink of Joel’s very eye before he grumbled something under his breath and passed Joel with a sharp clip to his shoulder. 

It's his turn now. 

At this point you'd come out to see what the commotion was for. The walls, while thick upstairs in the printer's press, were thin in the basement. And you;d heard silence and the spit of a man as his blood splattered with spit on the floor in the doorway. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doin throwin’ fists in my god damned club for?!” He roared. And Joel had to take the duration of both inhale and exhale to get his lips and tongue to work. But the scowl on his face said it all. “Huh?!” Jonny’s nostrils flared like a spanish thoroughbred bulls’. 

“That’s my brother you got workin’ for ya. I ain't havin’ him in some shady drug ring you got goin in. I aint!” 

Jonnly was no stupid man. Hr was smart. Quick minded and knew a man with balls. But Joel also knew very little. So this one time, he took the approach of calmness, and used his usual lying tongue for truth. Any other time it would she forked like Lucifer's serpent form. But now he was a man of coolness. “Right.” Johnny nodded at him, his tone was one that could soothe a ravenous bear. But with an edge as sharp as a knife. So sharp it could slice skin in one swift swoop. “Sit down.” He commanded calmly. “Let’s get you a drink.” 

With a wave of his hand a cha was pulled out. Two heavy handed brutes shoving Joel down into a chair, an old fashioned presented to him by Henry in front of him on the maplewood table. Then Johnny addressed the room gently. Set its patrons at ease. The music played its jazzy, jolly tune once more. People spoke again.And Johnny took his seat opposite Joel. 

“Look here…” The gangster waited for Joel to give him his name. Which he did. “Joel, I appreciate a strong swing as much as the next guy. But I don't appreciate it in my establishment.” Joel nodded in understanding. His temper ashamed him. How it ran hot under his skin. Fizzled white when provoked until he saw red in rage and swung. Never blindly though. He wasn't a loose cannon like the  broken soldier stereotype enforced. Just a fractured man. 

“You’re a soldier aint ya?” “Was.” Joel said gruffly. Curtly and he brewed a stare across from Johnny.

“Oh, nah.” Johnny shook his head, swirling his drink in the crystal glass, “Once a brother in arms, always a brother in arms. The war sticks with ya. You’re a soldier.” “Fine. Yeah, I'm a soldier.” 

“I know the war. I served like you. Left a boy and came back a shell of a man. Now look at me.” Joel took a moment to calculate his motive here. Johnny’s arms stretched wide with a smirk of pure pride as he gestured to the heart of his Boston crime empire. “I got money. I got birds.” He held up his glass to Joel, “I got liquor.” then leaned forward and spoke in a grave tone, "What you got?” 

Joel swallowed harshly, unable to answer because he had nothing in reality. 

“You got a job?” He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “No.”

“Figured. Hard finding work when all the women are competent enough to do it themselves. Fight for your country. End up on the streets. You don't die a hero like you thought you would. No one knows your name.” He scoffed, holding fingers up in air quotes around competent. It left a bitter taste of disgust in Joel’s mouth as the father of a daughter. Curled the edges of his tongue distastefully. Made him kiss his teeth to hold back the insult. “Well, people know my name.” Johnny paused again, the air grew thick between them and smouldered on their shoulders. He was squinting at Joel opposite him, sizing him up. Joel was rugged. A strong build and most likely a strong character too. Something Johnny could always do with having in abundance. And so when the devil's own smirk curled at his lip, Joel felt a question brewing at the very tip of his tongue. One that would change his life for better or worse. Regardless of it he declined or accepted. “And they could know yours too.”

Joel didn't want to admit it for the sake of his crumbling pride, but the man had it all. Even a good five years his junior, the man made a living for himself. Picked himself up from the dirt and used bloodshed and bodies for the foundations. 

“I could use a guy like you–”

“No.” Joel put his offer down flat before it had the chance to meet the air. 

“Hear me out.” He said calmly, and held up a hand, “A roof over your head. A steady income. A little extra dough in ya pocket?” Johnny rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the older man's face. An action to which Joel’s nostrils flared. It was embarrassing to even mull over. “Come on,” Johnny smirked. “Give it a go.” 

The southerner’s lips pursed, as if he was thinking it over. Which he was. But to what lengths would he go? Sure, Joel was conditioned in a short few months to kill. He was good at it. Mowed down men on the frontline like clockwork. And his trigger finger twitched at the thought of holding that power once more. But that didn't mean he was a man without morals. The men’s blood he;d coat his hands in had families. They were someone's son. Probably someone's husband or father. Joel knew the hollow ache loss left. The imprint of a shadow it left. The chasm ripped in your chest. Loss felt like an agonising, deep, helpless pit. But here was Johnny, throwing him a rope 

“You know, you’re right. This ain't the time to talk this over.” Johnny held his hands up and leaned back in his seat before they clapped back in his lap. Now you were at Johnny’s side once more. But the figure of Joel in his chair had something jumping in your bones. Tongue curling to taste his very words.  “Dollface here will patch you up.” 

You raised a brow, giving the two of them a dirty look. “Excuse me? Do I look like a nurse?” You shut up when Johnny glared. Swallowed your pride, and sighed inwardly. You both hated and loved the power he held over you. As much as you despised it at times, Johnny had your being wrapped around his finger like a puppeteer holds his strings. And tightly. You felt his tug at the strain in your limbs. 

“And you come back here tomorrow. We’ll talk in my office over a drink and a cigar. A good fucking drink.” 

—

Joel swallowed harshly when he saw you. Eyes, wide and decorated by dark mascara lashes, white liner on lower waterlines, face of a doll like Johnny’s nickname for you suggested. The red lipstick you had re-applied moments prior was glossy, inviting him to stumble over velvet words he would hear you speak. Lean closer so the blood red could graze the shell of his ear while you would whisper a dirty joke at him. 

He followed as you led him down a corridor off to the other side of the bar. Your dress seemed fit for hypnotising him into your bidding. Surely you were a siren who climbed the strats of a pier of the east coast and arrived here. Something about the beauty you wielded was not the everyday sort. It was the type you see women bend over backwards to achieve even a glimmer of for their man who came back after work. He could see himself now. Loosening his tie, hanging up his coat and hat. Leaving his briefcase and sanity at the door to see you in a pinafore and pin curls. Pretty gingham dress. He’d sit at the table and either be presented by you or a meal for his satiation. He’d prefer to devour the sweetness between your legs. 

Your hand in front of his face had his attention now. Fingers snapping. Nails manicured and painted the same shade as your lipstick. 

“Hey, you listening?” You asked, face set into displeasure. Joel straightened as he cleared his throat.

“What?” His tone was gruff and he mirrored your expression to you. His southern accent catching you off guard, but is intriguing. 

“I said sit down.” 

Joel looked over at the chair set at a vanity mirror you gestured to with an extended arm. The second time he had been asked to be seated. The second time he obeyed. 

You took your time to wet a washcloth in the small basin in the corner with warm water. Took the bottle of whiskey you stashed last week from the bottom of a rickety chest of drawers. Joel watched you in the mirror, eyes narrowed a fraction to make sure you were of no threat to him. He knew he could take you easily. In more ways than one. The power imbalance had his length twitching in his trousers. 

Your hands weren't gentle as you sat on the vanity between his legs. You took his stubbled chin in your grasp and jerked his head up into the light, tilting it to take a closer look at the gash. 

“Stay still.” You said curtly, holding the rag to the opening of the bottle and wetting it. You then pressed it over the pad of your finger. The initial touch made his teeth bare at you and a hiss to escape his mouth. His large wrist enclosing around yours to make you stop. “I said,” And you yanked your wrist from his hold, “stay still.” 

He did as he was told again. Silence setting his between the odd hiss from him and twitch of muscle under weathered skin. The crows feet at the side of his eyes were old. He clearly had lost his smile to something in the past. But you didn't ask, only wondered as you wiped the dried blood clean from his wound. “Fuckin grown man and you cant take a little sting of a cut.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself in amusement. Followed by a small huff of dry laugh.

“Maybe if you weren't digging your fingers into a fresh bruise I wouldn’t be wincin’.” You shot him a look and let go.

“All done.” And you held up your hands for good measure. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, tossing the rag aside and crossing your arms. He reached for the whiskey and took a large gulp, pursing his lips at the slow burn in the back of his throat. 

“None of your business.” 

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” He stated lowly. He was right. But you found a sick satisfaction in having any man you liked bend to your will. Answer any question you so pleased to hear the answer to. 

His bones groaned as he stood up from the chair. Your coat draped over the back of it fell to the floor and you swiftly got up to swipe it from the floor and hand it on the hook on the back of the door before pressing your back to it and facing him. Blocking his exit.  “Move.”

“Tell me your name.” You crossed your arms, jutting your chin up at him. 

“Don’t make me move you, princess.”

“Tell me your name.” 

Joel bit his tongue, the vein in his neck starting to pulse visibly under his skin that once again went hot. 

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I’m nosy.” You smiled, sarcastic and saccharine. “And i want to know the name i’ll be moaning tonight as i touch myself under the covers.” 

“Fuckin-” His jaw ticked, nostrils flared in his disdain. You kept your smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a small guttural noise from the back of his throat. A headache was starting to coil behind the strain of his eyes. “Joel.” And he looked back up at you. It still wasn't enough “Miller.” Your smile was genuine this time, just as sweet. You uncrossed your arms, standing up straight from the door to hold out your hand and give him your name in return. He rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle and swerving you. He pulled the door but you used your body weight to slam it shut with your back again. A loud slam and a creak of protest from its hinges.

“Where are you from, Joel?” 

“Is this a game to you, girl?” Joel growled. 

“Yes.” The smile you had was sly. Foxy. A  single finger ran down his chest and dared to slip just under his shirt’s collar. “I like games.”

“You don't wanna do that.” He warned, dark eyes burning you up inside from your very core. It was the look of a man’s lust that had been left untouched, unloved for quite some time now. It strained at his morality. But who were you to give up the warning and keen hand of a man who so desperately needed a release to the coiling tension of his shoulders. You saw it. Felt it in the rhythmic yet chaotic hammer of his heart against his ribs. As if it were trying with all its might not to break his own bones clean in two and lurch from its enclosure of flesh and bone. 

“And why not?” This was a devils game of chess. Careful calculated words from loose tongues and taking each other's moves in as you exhaled a counter. And oy had him three moves from checkmate. His king weak in defence, your advances stronger  by each word that fell into his eras from your red painted, enticing lips. He could feel his limbs being string up for you to pull at like a puppeteer in an advanced level of her craft. But he was no kind man. His words were even less forgiving than his disposition. 

“Because I aint a kind man. Haven't been for a long while. And I know types of things a man like me would wanna do to a pretty girl like you.” 

“I doubt it would be anything new.” You cooed, watching your finger as it traced a line lower over his buttons,  stopping at the top of his belt buckle and just shy of teasing at the growing bulge in his trousers. 

The tension between you was thicker than molasses. And it seeped through the cracks of his better judgement to the part of him that hungered for touch. That was ravenous for a single one of your fingers. 

“I don't think Johnny would like that.” 

“And I didnt like the way he spoke to me earlier.” You pouted. The way a child would when dined a sweet treat before dinnertime. 

“That aint a good reason to start an affair with me. Because when i get my grubby hands on ya there ain't no going back, doll.” 

His words were enticing you more. To have a man obsessing over your body. Your curves. Your voice singing his name as he fucked you dirtier than anyone into anything. Joel was that man now. He knew it in the very marrow of your bones that you were trouble. His new little minx. So it was no surprise when his lips crushed yours under the full weight of his sexual frustration. 

It was needy. Heated. A clashing of tongues and teeth as he pressed you with his entire simmering being into the wood of the door. His bulge grinding desperately into your thich that parted his legs. 

His tongue swiped your lower lip before drawing it back between his teeth for him to suckle on until it tingled deliciously. He was jealous with his touches. Groping your hips as the sating of your dress that crumpled to the floor. It revealed sweet sweet skin. Skin Joel wasted no time in delving in for the first damning lick. A pleasure to every sense. Sight, taste, touch, smell, sound. 

Heavy breaths were exhaled into the dewy skin of your clavicle, tongue languidly sliding over the high points of your collarbones and enclosing in a sharp suck over the skin just above your right breast. It sent a chorus of heavenly sinful, light and airy monas from your mouth and floated into his ears. His lips were chapped and weathered in contrast to the silk smooth of your skin. It was delightful. 

He went lower, got to his knees as he drank up the sense of a woman's skin for the first time in years. This was the taste of true damnation. He was past the opening of hell's gates and somehow found heaven in the parting of your thighs down the newly trodden path of your navel. 

He pressed his open mouth to your clothed cunt, tasted the seeping slick you gave him on his tongue and gluttonously inhaled your musk right at the apex of your thighs. Your fingers tangled into the curls of his messy, wind wrecked hair. Keening your hips up to press into the curve of his aquiline nose, and riding the burning in the pit of your belly starting to grow. Your head fell back against the door. Your mouth unhinged and letting out moan after sigh after mewl of his name. His face buried between the meat of your thighs as his hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them so he could push his face deeper between your folds. Your underwear drenched and ruined from your wetness and his spit while he tongued your hole through the flimsy lace. 

You pulled him back, smirked at the wreck he was with his lips sticky and shiny in the light of your dressing room. To then pull him up to your lips so you could curl your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself on him. It’s where the taste belonged. Among notes of whiskey and chewing tobacco and drugstore gum. 

His large hands pawed at your hips once more, listing you so your legs could wrap obediently round his waist. That's how it worked now. He wanted, you gave. And willingly like the sounds that fell into his motu like sweet, freshly harvested honey. Ut had the feel of money. Powerful and green like spring leaves. But with the warning of rotting when summer meets its tragic and fatal end. It was like trying to cross a canyon with a broken limb. Near impossible. The last sip of a drink that would ensure drunken and slurred movements. It took even the nest of a man his entirety to deny you, But deep down, Joel was a weak man. Strong in body, maybe mind too. But weak in soul. And he gave in with the cashing of your back against the vanity mirror. 

He had his faults. He knew that. And you did too. It had you wondering how a man like Joel loves. Did he change for his chosen lover? Or was he just as rough a callus as he was with everyone else. Would he destroy and ache and leave you wondering when your body would be at his whim next and how he would bend it to his will. Or would he let you lean into his embrace as he kissed down the column of your throat to the holy entitled epiphany between your thighs. The glisten of your hot cunt aching to be touched by anything. His everything. 

So you reached for his belt. So you undid it along with his buttons to touch his heated skin, To feel the blood flow beneath as the strain of each of his muscles. You ran a hand across his chest and he let his head fall back as a woman touched him for the first time as a man of war. A veteran.

He felt like he had been cast in gold by the sun for the first time in his life. Shed his skin for a new layer reserved just for you. As if he was thanking whatever resided up there for you. He was no believer in god, but, Jesus Christ, he was starting to believe in some form of higher power. You were proof that there was a blessing for him to steal away from the world. It was in your sound. Your taste. Your touch. It beckoned him the way your finger did, curling into the collar of his shirt to clash your lips with his and let. He had no autonomy over the moan that fell into his mouth where it festered at the back of his throat and was swallowed with a desperate and heady inhale. 

You trod roads into his skin with your touch. Ones he knew he would follow later that night in an erotomaniac’s pleasure. And you finally pulled his length free from his trousers. Your underwear was soon to follow and your slick aided the way he managed to sink so smoothly into your sopping heat. A squeeze he would commit to memory and savour like the taste of fresh and ripe fruit. Because you were. Fresh and youthful in age. Ready to be devoured to the core as a gleaning red apple would be. The very same one that even took in the garden of eden. Temptation. Fruit flesh to signify sin. 

He took his first bite out of you with a satisfying crunch. And keep devouring until there was nothing left but the remnants of your birth, ready to be resurrected, grown again in the form of a new tree. 

He stilled once he bottomed out, letting himself bask in the moment. The first time he was nestled deeply in the walls of your cunt. He heard your quiet whimpers for him to move. Felt the way your pert nipples brushed his sweat slicked skin. It was a ghost of a memory the last time he felt this. The heat of someone in the throes of intimacy. And it was all over him. It was the very air he wes starved of. The past was all paled in comparison because of the way your hips bucked pathetically to feel his thrust inside you. To get him going. No one had needed him this rawly, this undignifying before. 

A single hand clamped over your mouth, stilling your movements. He felt the tickle of your exhale against the pinky finger. 

“Stay still…” He commended with a swallowed down groan when you clenched around him, ironically repeating your words from earlier.

You looked at him. The glazed over, far away look in his eyes. His voice low and laden in a gravelly tone that came from the very back of his throat. You pulled him forward to lick it out again with your tongue when his hand fell to your throat. It gave a warning squeeze. And you once again canted your hips in protest. 

This time he moved. And it was like poetry as it hit that toe curling spot inside you. Made your eyes close in blissful ignorance of what this would do to you. YOu slick drooling from your cunt onto his shaft until it shined at his very base and dripped down his heavy balls. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter. Had you yelling for him in a suppressed squeal. His other hand clamped around your mouth for you to moan into. Your words of praise lost on his ears, listened to by his palm instead. Every devil was fuelling this act of infidelity. This act of carnal sin you both needed. Ut unwound your bones, but had the coil in your belly cramping with each swift buck of his hips. 

You met his swift thrusts in a desperate attempt to be of use to him. Finding it hard to breathe, yet alone Your cunt spasmed delectably. Searching for a new feeling. A feeling primal and dirty as the streets of Boston. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your legs trembled while he went on, giving you something you would remember from this day forward, A sentence of being binded to him.

You were in the arms of the devil himself. St his ,ercy. Nsd nothing felt more thrilling than the pleasure that rolled at a landslide's power and pace down your spine into your core. 

Another squeeze round your throat. Another unhinged moan into his hand. He snarled, baring his teeth at you before pressing his face into the crook of your neck and biting down. Your eyes closed and painted a picture of stars. You were close to seeing angels by now and the deep ache of pleasure grappled your flesh and had goosebumps flicking up to attention over your flesh.

His chest heaved with each curl of his hips. Your exhales heavier by the second while you moaned his name like a mantra to his hand. His teeth imprinted on your back like a randhishing. A mark of the sin that was witnessed by the two of you that day. Your voice was shrill. A repeated ‘Joel! Joel! Joel!’

“Fuck, yeah, sing f’me doll. Sing f’me. Let em know who’s doin’ this to you.” He panted in vain. “Tell me.” “Feels so good–”

“Again.” He demanded. 

“Feels so good! Too good!” 

And it was. He had you burning white hot at the end of an illicit teather. You gripped his back with talons of hellbirds. Clawing at his shirt clad back. The wings of hi shoulderbales. The snake length of his spine. 

“That’s it. Tell ‘em. Tell me! Tell me in making you feel fuckin’ good.” 

“You are. Harder Joel.” His pace was like poetry. Ripped you in tow and had you displayed to him. One knee was hooked over his hunched shoulder, spine curled as his forehead pressed to yours. `The new angle had you singing like a songbird. High and melodic in tune.  Your kitten heel slipping off and clattering to the floor without a second thought. The head of his cock nipped your cervix. The lewd wet sounds of your pussy smothering him in your slick and your shared moans filled the room. Everything of you was his now. You couldn't even think of giving this up to Johnny. Yes, he fucked you dirty. But Joel fucked you like it was his sole purppose of living. Like it was what gave him life. 

You fell. You fell as soon as you hit your climax with a mewling moan that ended Joel right there and then. Coming together with heavy breaths and shaking, trembling chests. His release inside of you, strings of his come smearing you in him. Marking you for later. Well and truly ruined for any other warm body that dared to slip into your sheets. 

But falling was not the problem. Only when you hit the ground is what causes all the grief. And the look you shared once the gold haze of afterglow faded was what confirmed this. 

What have you done? How would you live without this?

[writing-hat]

flowers to tend a wound

the glacier fic!! I finished it a while ago, and figured it would be best to post it on tumblr since it's something sweet and short <3 (and kind of messy sorry)

/!\ TW for wound! /!\ (and mistakes as usual cuz I never pay attention to that) and some mutual pinning (they can't confess they're stoopid)

this is around 2.9k words! Enjoy!

“Ah, Zane!”

The robot jolted, apparently caught off guard. This surprised Cole, who was used to a Zane always readied for any of the other ninjas jumping on him. But he had probably been distracted by cooking dinner, which wouldn’t have been too surprising.

Without turning around, the other sighed. “Cole. You startled me.” He straightened up a bit, humming at whatever he was cooking- it already smelled heavenly to Cole. “What is it?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to know if you had seen my cake leftovers?” Cole groaned, crossing his arms. “I have a suspicion on who might’ve eaten it, but I wanna be sure before I throw hands, since I got it wrong last time.”

A chuckle. “Yes. Jay ate it all.”

“Damn it, I knew it!” He threw his hands up. “Ever single time! And of course he left for a mission!” He shook his head, taking a seat behind Zane. “Why didn’t you go by the way?”

“I am needed here to cook.”

Well, Cole knew his friend. There was something else bothering him in his voice. Something that made it so he got surprised when the earth ninja came by. That made him curious, of course; he wanted to know if he could help him in any way- and if it was too much, Zane could always tell him he didn’t want to speak of it. “And?”

The nindroid sighed, before turning around.

Cole’s eyes widened. He had a tissue attached around his right eye. Something he probably usually used in the kitchen, pink, like his apron, with white hearts decorating the thing.

“You’re hurt?!” The earth ninja got up in an instant, restraining himself from approaching the other too fast. “What happened?”

“The Mechanic blasted my eye.” Slowly, he removed the tissue, letting the wound appear.

This time, he gasped, approaching Zane to get a closer look- not out of curiosity, but out of worry, because based on how the ice ninja had winced when revealing the missing parts to the cold, there was no way it didn’t hurt.

“When did that happen?!”

“During this morning’s mission. It’s…” He brought metallic fingers up, brushing over the wound. “It is still fresh, unfortunately.”

Cole raised his own hand to the hole, tentatively, waiting for something in the icy eyes to push him away. But nothing came up, so he slowly touched the skin, taking his fingers away as soon as Zane hissed at the feeling.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I suppose some of my sensitive wires got touched.”

“Why hasn’t Jay fixed it up by now?” He grumbled. “Instead of finishing my cake.”

Zane’s lips twitched, tempted to chuckle, before he sighed, turning back around to watch over the meal- a curry, now Cole could see it, with rice already cooking on the other side of the stove. He could feel his stomach grumbling in hunger at the sight, but it was quickly dulled away when Zane brought him back.

“We lack materials. He promised he’d try to find some when coming back from the mission, but… I doubt there will be any. Pixal already asked Cyrus Borg, but it seems like there’s a limited stock of titanium everywhere. I said I could wait.”

Cole frowned, placing a hand on the robot’s shoulder to demand his attention. “But it’s bothering you. I can see that.”

Zane felt conflicted; he usually didn’t share what his troubles were to the rest of the team- unless they became too heavy for his shoulders alone. But thoughts, and worries about his appearance? This wasn’t something he talked about with any of them.

But he could never hide anything from the earth ninja. He wasn’t really sure how he was doing it, but it felt heart wrenching, every time he told him a half-truth. And when Cole looked at him, with concern, and a need to protect him… Zane was ready to give up his role, and fall into his arms to be protected.

This wasn’t something he was used to feeling. He shook his head, a sad smile stretching his lips. And that made Cole worry more; he wanted this current pain to go away. He couldn’t bare seeing him like that. “It is not… the most wonderful thing to look at.”

The hole was big, taking a whole quarter of the face. The dark blue liquid that made sure Zane could be up and running had clearly been cleaned off, but could still be seen inside- though it had stopped bleeding a while ago. Wires and strings were tangled, when they weren’t torn, probably sharing a pain that Cole couldn’t even begin to understand. The metallic skin around still showed some of the dark traces left by the blast.

“At the very least,” Zane spoke, wanting the attention away from his wound. “Jay said that he would help remove the sensitivity whenever he is back, if he doesn’t find the right materials.”

Cole realized he’d been staring, and took a step back. “Sorry. I just… I hate seeing you hurt like that.”

This time, the smile that appeared was a sincere one. “Thank you for worrying about me, Cole.”

The earth ninja smiled back, placing both hands on the ice ninja’s shoulders. “You’re welcome.” He hesitated, before pulling Zane in a hug. The latter blinked, clearly not expecting this out of all outcomes but, enjoyed it nonetheless, taking a few seconds, before letting his face relax, closing his eye as he hugged back Cole.

“…Do you need help with dinner?” The voice was hesitant, wanting to help, but knowing very well he couldn’t really do anything of use in that matter.

A quiet laugh made it to the black ninja’s ears. “Just to prepare the table, if you can.”

That stayed a win. He broke from the hug, a grin on his face as he looked at Zane. “Sure!”

They ate in a good ambiance. Jay kept trying to excuse himself to Zane, having not found any titanium for now to fix his face. The nindroid kept repeating that it was okay- though this seemed sort of useless with how the lightning ninja already felt guilty for this situation.

After sharing their meal of the night, with Cole still hesitant on hitting his best friend for eating his food earlier, Jay and Zane went to the ice ninja’s room, where a table stayed whenever the nindroid required repairs. He laid on his back there, letting his friend tinker and figure out what he could do to make the other feel better.

It wasn’t the first time he had to cut away Zane’s sensitive wires- the ice ninja asked for that to be done often, when the zone touched by the wound hurt too much to deal with it. Painkillers weren’t an option for him, so they did with what they had.

It started in a small silence, with Jay’s background music filling the room. Zane felt… anxious, of asking his friend about his feelings; he was still bothered by his lack of composure from earlier.

Well, bothered wouldn’t be the word, but he, for once, couldn’t place the right words on his ideas, and unfamiliar feelings.

“Something you wanna tell me?”

Zane sighed, grateful his friend could understand his emotions without needing him to speak up. “Yes. There is… something.”

Jay waited, but his friend had apparently said all that he could. “Something important then.” A whistle, as he reached for the tools he’d use to get rid of the sensitive wires. “What is it?”

“It’s about Cole.” He blinked, feeling the name escape him without wanting to. Unfortunately, his metal plates could display his blush, turning his face in a shade of blue. Ashamed, he looked away from the blue ninja, trying to figure out his next words. “Well, not Cole specifically. It is more about how I reacted with him earlier.”

There was an amused hum, making Zane’s eye twitch in annoyance. “And how did you react?”

Ignoring how his friend sounded, he huffed. “I usually keep my-” He had been about to say ‘feelings’. By the First Master of Spinjitzu, what was wrong with him?! “-troubles, to myself. But earlier, I could not keep my mouth shut when it came to the pain this zone brought.” With guilt, he added in a lower voice. “Nor the- aesthetic side, of this wound.”

“Because you want Cole to find you beautiful.”

Zane gasped, sitting upright on the table, looking at Jay alarmed. “What?! What- how can you say things like that?!”

Jay raised both hands, innocent-like, his hands still holding the tools. “What? Am I wrong?”

There was a self-satisfactory grin, on his face. One Zane found himself frowning at. In embarrassment. He didn’t answer his friend, instead turning his head away so his lone eye wouldn’t have to put up with the mocking face- earning him a snort.

The blue ninja shook his head. “Proof is here; you don’t mind me seeing you with your wires tangled and dangling from that hole in your face-”

“Of course! You’re my friend, and the one helping me out. I don’t mind showing you vulnerability!”

“So you don’t see Cole as a friend.” Jay snorted. “Noted.”

“This isn’t what I said! Stop twisting my words!” Zane crossed his arms, feeling his blue liquid pump fasted in his ears. “Cole is a great friend!”

“Oh, I’m sure he is.” Before he could answer to the taunt, Jay tapped the table. “Lay back down. I still need to get rid of a few wires, and clean the spot.”

Reluctantly, the ice ninja did as he was told, crossing his hands on his chest.

He didn’t like that feeling in his stomach. But at the same time… he sighed, closing his eye when he felt the tools come back inside of his wound.

They didn’t speak again, Jay still humming, apparently proud of the mess he was leaving behind inside of his nindroid friend. The latter still battled with his thoughts, trying to figure out how long, exactly, did he think he could lie to himself that way.

When the blue ninja brought a tissue up, to clean the zone, Zane sighed. “How would I even confess?” He swallowed thick. “How can I even be sure that he feels the same?”

Jay stopped what he was doing, blinking at the confused robot. “Wow.” He started. “Love really makes people blind, huh?”

His metallic lips thinned, not able to find something to say after that. But the understanding look of the blue ninja did manage to make him relax. Just a bit.

They made a few tests, Jay touching with a rod his wires, and all that was around. Effectively, Zane felt nothing. With a reassured sigh, he thanked his friend. For both the repair, and the talk.

He luckily didn’t need to precise for what.

“So it’s better now?”

Zane nodded, having to turn his head around to face the earth master. The latter sighed, reassured, and raised a tentative hand to the wound. He hesitated, until the ice ninja nodded, and brushed with his fingers the metal, feeling the cold under his fingers.

The nindroid found himself disappointed he could not feel anything for now.

“How long before they get the supplies?”

“A week, at best.” He shrugged. “It’s okay, I am getting used to it. Although Sensei assured me I didn’t need to go on missions for now.”

Which meant he wasn’t allowed. Cole winced, feeling bad for his friend. He knew too well the frustration of staying behind when the others faced the action. They all did.

He must’ve felt so sad.

So, an idea came to him. One, he hoped, would help his friend get better. It wasn’t anything big, but, it could help him pass some time, and feel better about this wound.

“I have an idea. Do you want to try it?”

A tilt of the head, as the other considered it, before nodding with a soft smile. “Of course. Anything you can think of can help.”

Cole didn’t seem to notice the sentence, but Zane did. And he swore on the First Master he had never felt his circuits warms so quickly before under the weight of shame. Especially since, well, without being mean to the earth ninja, his ideas weren’t often good ones.

But he had a good feeling for this.

So when Cole offered a palm for Zane to take, he did so, gladly following him to his room.

In there, the nindroid was first completely blown away by the numbers of flowers, hanging from pots attached to the ceiling, or resting in vases conveniently placed on his desk, or in corners, near his record player, for instance. Zane blinked multiple times, regretting not having his other eye to take in more properly the breathtaking scenery, amplified by the beautiful rays of the sunset.

Cole let go of Zane’s hand, walking to a pot on his desk, where the sun was sure to hit first. Based on his sensors, those were fresh ones, most definitely taken care of carefully for the last two days. He grabbed a five of them, and turned back towards Zane, a shy smile on his face.

Zane could swear he was blushing, too.

“I was- if you let me try- I mean-” Cole bit his lower lip, looking to the side, not able to form the right words to ask for permission. Because now, when he looked at Zane, his idea felt nothing but dumb.

The flowers he had picked for this were yellow carnations. He had taken care of those for the last three days, thinking of Zane, and how he could make him feel better about the state of his face. A face, Cole found himself to stare much more then once. Because he found him beautiful.

And so, when the ice ninja had been concerned… he had thought this could maybe help lift his spirits up.

But now… Zane might think he was trying to cover up the inside of his face, instead of the wound. Which wasn’t the case at all.

And he felt dumb.

Delicate fingers came to touch his knuckles. Cole’s breath was taken away, and slowly, he lifted his head up to look at the one he had wanted to help. The one he wanted to love.

Zane was smiling to him, quirking an eyebrow. And Cole could swear the metallic plates had been tainted by some shade of blue. “Are those for me?”

Cole blushed, looking back at the flowers. With a small voice, he answered. “Y- yes. It was for…” He didn’t finish, still not feeling better about his idea.

The nindroid placed a hand on his cheek, letting the earth ninja take his time to look at him back. Once their gazes met, he closed his only eye, making Cole understand he was trusting him to try it out.

He took a deep breath, and slowly, placed the flowers inside the hole. Each time, he felt the nindroid shiver when the stem went too far, where his wires could still sense, but no sound came out, nor did he move away.

When he was done, he took a small step back, and cleared his throat. “Done.”

Zane opened his eye, blinked, and walked to the small mirror Cole kept on his desk. He grabbed it, and looked at the result.

The five flowers Cole must’ve spent hours upon hours taking care of now rested inside hole he had found nothing but deforming lately.

But now?

The sight was pleasant. Some sort of relief washed over him, and he sighed, finding himself not hating his appearance anymore.

Thanks to Cole.

He turned around, finding the latter fidgeting with his black coated nails, and looking embarrassed. Warmth filled his heart at the sight, and he walked back to the earth ninja. Before he could ask any question, and make Zane lose this boost of confidence, he kissed his cheek, softly.

“Thank you, Cole.” He shook his head, knowing he would’ve cried if he could at the beautiful gesture of care and worry. “Those are absolutely beautiful.”

Cole’s heart skipped a bit, and if he’d been blushing before, the ninja knew his cheeks must’ve been burning now. When the ice ninja noticed, he looked to the side, a sort of shy and silly smile resting on his lips.

Lips he found very much kissable.

So, gathering his courage, Cole placed a knuckle under the metallic chin. Zane’s eye met his own, and he swallowed thick, trying to find his voice again.

“May I?”

Zane blinked, suddenly feeling his emotions swirling and exploding his senses. Showing him how they both had felt for a while now. And a confirmation, that Cole’s heart had displayed the same constricted feeling. One that would hurt, and forbid them to move if they hadn’t done something about it.

A mutual pinning of some sort.

Love really makes people blind.

And once the realization struck? The feeling felt liberating.

With a chuckle, he answered. “You may.”

Cole smiled, and leaned forward. Zane did as well, shortening the wait for them both.

Their kiss felt amazing. It made them sigh, pressure and adrenaline coming back down to make their hearts beat faster. It was incredible.

It still felt so when they broke apart. With heavy breathing, they let their foreheads against one another, the relief bringing them both to release what sounded like silly giggles to their ears.

-------

some notes I gave myself when writing so you can see my process of writing

(Zane is so emotional my guys omg he would be a mess if he ever had to confess his love to Cole. at least me thinks.)

hope you enjoyed! see you around!

[welcomehomeincorrectquotes]

Howdy and Wally are reading fan mail together:

Howdy: *reading letter aloud* “Howdy is a fresh doo-doo face and he is stoopid and Wally is perfect.”

Wally: Aw, thank you. That’s really nice.

Howdy: *rolling his eyes* Thank you… That’s really nice…

Wally: I liked your thing, that you’ve been doing this past week, which is pay me very nice compliments, but in a weird tone.

Howdy: Pfft-*snorts and starts giggling*

Wally: Like… What was it from yesterday? *does a poor imitation of Howdy* “Oh, there’s Wally. Everybody likes him, he’s handsome and talented.”

Howdy: *wipes eyes from laughter*

Wally: And I’m just like, “Oh, I’m… sorry?”

Howdy: No, no it’s the… *in the most over-the-top voice possible* “Look at me, I’m WALLY! I’m super talented and handsome and everybody likes me! I like hanging out with people and people like hanging out with me! I’m WALLY!” And then I just walk away in a dismissive manner.

Wally: *nods* It’s incredibly flattering and off-putting at the same time.

[sacrisaint]

STARTER CALL : fresh one cause im a stoopid dumb dumb , Ask megs Episode ' All Hell Breaks Loose' gets closer so does my muse light up so jump on this besties !

[jils-things]

2 + 10 for Mangaverse Jaide and 7 + 15 for gameverse Jaide from the s/i lore asks!! :>

~ anemoflower

I GOT TO THIS VERY LATEEE WAHH THANKS SO MUCH PHIA :333

2. when in canon does your self insert come in? do you have a scene in mind for your entrance?

i previously answered this question and mentioned jaide's inclusion with gold but in here i can absolutely see her being relevant to the ruby/sapphire AND oras story :3 i cant say for r/s yet because i have to reread it AKSLDLKKSS BUT FOR ORAS (its still so fresh in my mind) she's definitely important to the story because zinnia is present. zinnia has done super risky things to both ruby and steven and i can totally imagine jaide having to step up and confront zinnia for bothering her family... she's a usually passive person but she crosses the line if it puts her husband and son in danger.

10. how do the other characters feel about your self insert and f/o’s relationship?

i realized i didn't mention josep.h stone when i answered this previously but i think he's quite happy to see his son finally finding a nice lady. i feel that joseph couldn't see steven as the perfect heir to his business not until he has been partnered with someone because it's like, he's fully understood and matured. and he has a son too. though i feel that joseph would want ruby to follow next in line for the de.von corp stuff but steven respects his son's hobbies and aspirations and would probably not force him to be like. the family stones yk ... if that makes sense! josep.h is polite to jaide, maybe spoils her a bit and recalls embarrassing baby steven memories AKSLFKDJKDD

7. would any other characters (besides your f/o) have a crush on your self insert?

HEAR ME OUT

SHE WENT TO ALO.LA. I THINK SHE WOULD LOVE TEAM SK.ULL AND THEIR DUMB SHENANIGANS 😭😭😭😭😭 WOULD LOVE HIS GOLI.SOPOD TOO 😭😭😭 they're both kinda stoopid (affectionately) in their own right and they have the token friend to apologize for their behavior (plumer.ia and blue 😭😭😭) ITS IDIOT4IDIOT I THINK ITS CUTE 🔥🔥 i dont think jaide sees much danger in these guys even if gu.zma tries to intimidate her

15. how does your self insert play a role in the plot of the story? do they help directly defeat the villain, support the heroes, etc.?

when they were kids, she supported red and blue's journey to the indigo league! she wasn't entirely present in their journey but red and blue would always make trips back home to palle.t town to share their progress with her (they kinda feast on her compliments they get ego boosted fr) i don't think? she's that aware of tea.m rocket's deeds up until the gen 2 story? since ethan is associated with team ro.cket too and she actually became a trainer from there so she's willing to help!

[artcalledky]

Motivating Behind thee Scenes (let me just) Why can’t you add a green scenery Adding background chaos Why can Biden pardon! But not arrest and detain so place a fucker under his own philosophical ways? Cuff cart off imprisonment in an undisclosed location for definite death Biden never thought to sink so low Non fanatic Nor a rump T Big elephant ass Replay just looks stoopider Inspired by MAGA Was money grabbed beyond Despicable 4 (fore warned) Back ground the supporters Replay the indecisions for life Motivating behind the science Look through date of and before posts He played my said song Motivating behind the scenes He directs under fire! I don’t KY the mom She is under tornadoes uncovered 27 minutes later to lower temperatures In provided heats Over the days just “grand theft audio, stoopid” And support of Trump died So what! That twenty something was pissed off Urging non jumping Shit happens Under governed by Republicans It’s not our rhetoric causing happenings A fellow Democrat stated Keep him out of harms ways Detain leave locked up Show me ear Picture before leaving locked Toss those keys aside It’s all heightened highlighted But no one governed over that bldg With shooter on top Rehearsal Carousel Spinning rapidly Over you and me Think so Biden could lock and toss Under the mental anguish of Ex Former Presidential power Clipped skin Will look normal later in videos That bldg was out of S S range But fired from a scope afterwards Not reacting after first missed shot Supremely Saying PS You all deserved sitting! Shooter never blanketed everyone His goal was not a part of your own, or your money Stand still big diners with Forks Devilish Picking from plates to eat over American people of poor, awe thems So many poems in regard to the irregardless Donors Lost life My shoulder have been sent to better later Chump dead My chip? Whaaaaa Your money spoke Gave a folk to kill Your wheels In life That’s tyrannosaurus Dictator hoop la la la dance No fall in steps To dancing Trump pants in back Well the sweat was apparent The defection defamation feces smells It’s all unknown here on Tuesday Speculation Cunt cant prick the answer overall tragic Saturday Nor answer The MO Not identifying The beautiful people The beautiful persons Assemble of Today could have been a good day! Survivor I fuck you like the REST My REST From years of Trumped Not My words have not rusted Motivating behind the stances (scenes) Assessments of landmarks and terrain? Money pansy photographed killer! Young one in age Epstein clapping and cheering for Trump Sound trumpets for survival of the fittest! Dumb doomed America And looking here on Tuesday Down the syndromes No flying drones! Security measures in priority A Vance guard will make a talk different! White gloves! Parade charade Paws raid over she raws Governed ovarian degeneration degrees In progressional denials Charade parade She raw Pa rapes Political violence out of ordernarily Political leaders may raise war The person Should only hobby Bereavement only acted by leaders Should be norm Well that Israel life worth 27 Palestinians That Russia invader Killed Ukraine innocence In Africa Who cares any more Farm aid, live aid was 80’s Add a part 2 of Woodstock 90’s add another Hippy fresh and moldy Growing psychedelics Add swisher sweets! Brother and sister ‘ s Thc motivates without violence behind the scenes & science’s Dial back the reflections in others Well Well Drill for better outcomes Let me just Let me just take a hit and you shut the fuck up diamond bit For drilling the compounded in dumbs For drilling the percussioned in drums For sealing the VOTES Watch gangs of NewYork Feel free to breathe Watch for hatchets! To heads But in rumor T rump said Bloodbath On escalated rhetoric Lowering temperatures in global warming It just costs more in A C Air conditioner Who owns Stocks! Let me just Let me just take a hit and you shut the fuck up

Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh it’s scolding

Dumbfounded in dehydration! **Speak more j d Vance.***

It’s a Sunday in Julian date

Prunts

Prunt

It’s today!!!!!!!!!!

[pinkykats-place]

BKDK Mermaid AU Mer Bakugo x Human Deku Ⅱ

AO3 NSFW Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked below are mine.

All contain mature content. Read tags.

Art work is not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

A Salty Distraction by Viridian_Sunset

Summary: Deku has a shitty day at work and finds comfort in his mermaid friend.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

One Fish, Two Fish, Half Fish, Marine Biologist by RandomFandoms65000

Summary: Izuku was ten years old when he met Katsuki aka a merman that the aquarium called Dynamight. As Izuku aged the merman never left the back of his mind it was one of the reason why he decided to become a marine biologist. He not only wanted to because of his love for salt and fresh water creatures, but to study Katsuki's species. Merfolk were rare and well the more they talked the more Izuku fell in love with the merman. Maybe he had always loved him.

Complete | 20 Chapters

Rated - Mature

Specks of Gold Against the Ocean's Waves by Serah_chan

Summary: While enjoying the light of the full moon, Katsuki Bakugou, an orange tailed merman, crosses paths with a handsome surfer with freckle littered cheeks. While he's not supposed to interact with the human, there's something about them that draws the merman to get close and ignore all boundaries.

“Huh, he’s kinda good looking for a human.” Katsuki muses, feeling the annoying itch of curiosity push him towards getting a better look. He wonders if he can observe him from down below as he takes on the waves, catch glimpses of him as he falls back to the water. Human eyes weren’t exactly the best anyway, so he shouldn’t have to worry about being seen... right?

Complete | 19 Chapters 

Rated - Mature

I’ve Got You, Stupid Human by GreenEyesSublime

Summary: The mysterious man swam the last few feet to the rock. Putting his hands up on the edge, he hauled himself out of the water with a flourish. Izuku watched in awe as first a toned, muscled chest emerged from the water and then a tight pack of abs followed by a dangerously sharp v-cut pointing downwards towards a...tail?!

— — —

Or, human!Izuku has been cleaning the beach for weeks and merman!Katsuki is tired of just watching. 

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

A Salty First Kiss by DarkMachi, Iwacakes

Summary: Izuku Midoriya's family beach trip went awry when an attempted act of heroism lets to an unexpected first.

Jumpcut to twelve years later: Izuku was struggling to stay afloat when his stepfather threw him a chance. What was meant to be a reprieve turned into something else entirely when he finds someone washed onto the beach. A memory he should have buried long ago, a kiss he could never forget, and a debt he could now repay.

Or.

What do you do when you have an angry Merman in your bathtub that speaks a different language?

Or.

What do you do when a stoopid hooman rescues you and then proceeds to start courting with you?

Complete | 101 CH | Contains Smut

Wavelength by gardengalaxy

Summary: Izuku practices surfing away from prying eyes, knowing he will have lots of attention on competition day. But what if he's already caught someone's interest?

One Shot | Trans Deku 

Rated - Explicit

A Breathless Song by chibicharlie95

Summary: Izuku loves the sea, so much so that he can never seem to part with it... But will he become a part of it? A siren's song in the middle of a storm may help him to find the answer.

One Shot | NSFW

what the water gave me by twinstarsies

Summary: "It's like I'm challenging fate," he says to a hermit crab he finds tucked into a crevice in the rock. "I'm daring it to knock me into the water just to show me who's boss. At this rate, it's probably going to win." 

"Something's gonna knock you into the water, alright, but it won't be anything as nebulous as fate," a voice says, tone wholly unamused. 

Izuku startles so hard that he forgets to use his quirk to catch himself as he slips from his perch on the rock into the ocean. 

— — —

Izuku goes on a forced vacation and meets the love of his life.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Contains Smut | Trans Midoriya

Call of the Siren by Gemsom

Summary: Izuku always imagined that sirens sang their victims into the water, and that their helpless victims could do nothing to resist. He almost wished that was the case.

Every time his captain’s ship crossed the narrow sea, Katsuki came to see him. The siren's friendship seemed so genuine, but Izuku was smart enough to know that the creature was sweet talking him to his death. Katsuki never denied it either - asking over and over for Izuku to offer his life.

Of course, Izuku had no way of knowing that the siren planed to give him a new one in return.

Incomplete | 9/18 Chapters | NSFW

Last Updated Jan. 2023

[thebandcampdiaries]

Chucky Slick debuts with a fresh album: "Who Is Pelican Charles?".

Chucky Slick is an artist with a sound that feels bright, fun, innovative, and full of personality. Growing up in San Diego, the main reggae music hub of the United States, the artist has been making music for quite some time, eventually developing a truly infectious blend of reggae, hip hop, singing, rapping, and bilingual lyrics, making for a unique twist. 

There is something quite special about how he blends some of the most remarkable elements of reggae with the melodic freshness of alternative rock, and anything can happen with such a vast creative horizon! The “beach rock” vibe of this music has a carefree attitude, which is really a defining quality of Chucky’s debut album, "Who Is Pelican Charles?”

The dynamic and diverse music makes for a nice and well-rounded listening experience. The album consists of 10 tracks, including the catchy and light-hearted tune "Life Is Sweet" (which is somewhat of a sister song in spirit to Francis Moon's "Life Is Good!" Although the styles are quite different, both songs share a vibrant, zesty love of life and living in the moment). "Island Girl" is another warm, laid-back tune with lots of personality and depth. The album also includes some guest artists. Skanktity collaborated on the opening track, "Old Friends," and on "Stare at The Sky." 

Cam Sleepy showcases his talent on "Coffee." Additionally, the album features Andreu Tomàs and Steph Davis, who bring even more variety and color to this exciting release.

Learn more about Chucky Slick, and listen to "Who Is Pelican Charles?". This release is currently available on the best digital music streaming platforms on the web. Don’t sleep on this if you enjoy artists such as Slightly Stoopid, No Doubt, Michael Franti, Shwayze, or Sublime, to mention a few!

[the-masters-pieces]

My niece is wha's Poppin RN! She' a fresh (Stoopid-sss-autonotcorrect-keeps-ufckin-up-my-words) and already broke a record and is going to state. It's the first year her school is going to state in like 4 ever. CONGRATULATIONS BABY J!

[ssolaris]

bro that's fuckin wild i was rly just sittin here a sec ago, reflecting. tears streaming down my face. and now i've simply decided to vibe instead! no time for despair ladies, good feels only. stop dwelling on the past bc it won't get u anywhere! gotta focus on the good shit u have already