#such bullshit chuck her out

[ofcowardiceandkings]

god Suella Braverman is deranged

[gothic-chicanery]

I am going to wring Howard Hamlins fucking neck

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where ghost, who either never enlisted or is discharged/retired, works as a scare actor in a local haunt. he really enjoys the play pretend part of haunted houses, where yes people scream at the sight of him masked, covered in fake blood, and wielding a (chainless, but still loud) chainsaw, but they also laugh at themselves or their friends or just because. It’s safe, there are rules, everyone knows that when going in so everyone is on the same page.

Or at least, everyone should be. Because there’s always Those Guests, the ones who drag unwilling partners or friends with them just to watch them scream. Or the ones who try to show off for their less than enthusiastic partners and just run off screaming. Ghost has a knack for breaking these kinds of guests, and takes a bit of selfish pleasure in doing so.

That’s what he thinks is going to happen when he sees a small group of maybe four or five teenagers coming through his section of the maze. One of them, clearly the ringleader, is talking a whole lot of shit, playing himself up for the “entertainment” of the girl next to him who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. So ghost revs his chainsaw, and gets ready to pounce.

The shriek the ringleader lets out is nothing but satisfying, cracking on the high note as the whole group hightails it out of there. Well, almost the whole group. As it turns out, the ringleader isn’t above sacrificing his date to spare himself, and all but throws the girl at Ghost as soon as he pops out. Ghost nearly drops his saw trying to catch her, who goes down like a sack of bricks.

The girl, who Ghost learns is named Maggie, twisted her ankle pretty badly when she was pushed, is a chatterbox once she gets over the whole “chucked at a masked serial killer by her kind of sort of not really boyfriend”. He ended up carrying her backstage once they both realized she couldn’t put any weight on her ankle and she rants about the guy and his bullshit without seemingly taking a breath. Ghost manages to butt in, asking if she has a way home. Maggie, unsurprisingly, says that her not boyfriend gave her a ride, but she could call her older brother to come get her.

They wait backstage for him to arrive, and Ghost finds he doesn’t mind the chatter. His opinion of Maggie’s “friends” gets lower and lower with every word, but he’s not going to tell her that. He can’t, not with how on a roll she is.

Price, who manages the haunt with his partner Nikolai, lets the two of them know that the brother is here, and Ghost can hear him cussing up a storm down the hallway.

He’s not prepared for John MacTavish to storm in, furious and ready to kill. Maggie looks entirely unsurprised, maybe even a little annoyed. There’s banter between the two, that good natured sibling rubbing that only comes when you know a person their entire life, but Ghost can’t hear it. He’s just bluescreened in the corner, because holy shit.

John finally looks at him to thank him for helping Maggie, and he stops cold. Ghost is half worried the whole blood and guts getup is enough to earn him a right hook to the face. Instead, a faint blush rises on John’s cheeks.

Maggie is so done with this, and hobbles out with the help of the entirely too entertained Gaz and Roach.

After much stumbling over his words, Ghost manages to earn himself both a hastily scribbled phone number on the back of a haunt flier and a tentative date the next week. Not at a haunt, thank god. John leaves with a wave and a bashful smile. Ghost can’t do much more than wave back.

Well. Back to work, he guesses.

(And if ghost goes back to stalk and scare the piss out of Maggie’s “friends”, that’s just between the two of them)

[corpsebasil]

Sleepy -> pure Ethan fluff here

Ethan’s best friend likes him more than she’ll admit, and he has a habit of sleeping on her.

Tara caught you the first time it happened.

You were at Ethan and Chad’s dorm, studying for your Econ exam with Tara, when you’d found yourself curled up against Ethan, head in his lap, dozing away from boredom.

“Look how cute.” Tara whispered to Chad, pointing her pen at the two of you. Ethan’s head had fallen back to rest against the wall, his eyes closed as the two of you slept.

The next time was at the Halloween party. This time it was Ethan, exhausted from the alcohol and the noise, that had sat next to you on the couch beside Anika and Mindy. And when his head had moved to lay against your shoulder, his breaths slowing as he found comfort in your presence, you’d had to shush Mindy so she wouldn’t wake him up with her loud gossiping.

Most recently, you’d been found by Chad, curled up together under the covers in Ethan’s bed, his arm slung over your waist as your head burrowed in the space between his neck and shoulder.

No one in your friend group understood why the two of you weren’t together. It made no sense—you were always attached at the hip and, whenever you hung out, you always inevitably seemed to be napping with one another. For Ethan, it was because he was constantly stressed, and with you he could relax, breathing in the scent of your perfume and running tentative hands over your soft skin. For you, it was…

Well, you weren’t entirely sure.

So when you began receiving messages from your friend’s shared group-chat you gave a wary glance to Ethan where he laid curled up in a ball beside you, his head in your lap.

Core Four

Chad: Alright Y/N, spill the tea. What’s going on w you and E?

Chad: That rhymed

Chad: lol

Y/N: nothings going on why?

Tara: surrrre

Tara: *image*

Tara: looks like a whole lot of ‘nothing’

Y/N: stopppp when did you take that??

Chad: what the HELLL 🔥🔥🔥

Y/N: Tara delete that pls

Tara: no I’m making it my lock screen 😏

Chad: I thought I was your lock screen

Mindy: As long as his Ghostface ass stays away from me I don’t care who he naps with. Next subject.

Chad: don’t be boring

Y/N: *left groupchat*

Tara: noooo

You sighed, turning off your phone and chucking it to the end of the bed before running your nails absentmindedly through Ethan’s curls. Truth was, you did like your friend. You just didn’t know how to tell him.

“Y/N.” Ethan grumbled, lifting his head a fraction as he blinked sleepily. “What’s going…on?”

“Hey, Sleepy.” You smiled down at him, then squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you under the covers next to him, his head moving to rest on your stomach. “E, what the—”

“Just go to sleep, please.” He grumbled, voice drowsy. “Need your…” he trailed off and your face flushed, but you made yourself comfortable, resting a hand against his head as you relaxed, your eyes slowly closing.

-

“Come on.” Tara was urging, watching as you did your makeup and ignored her. “Just get together all ready I’m sick of this.”

“He’s my friend, Tare.” You argued, raising a brow at her in the vanity mirror. “It’s not like that.”

“Really?” She asked, flouncing over. “Because I heard that Chad says he likes you.”

“Chad likes me?” You asked, confused, and Tara rolled her eyes.

“No dumbass. Ethan likes you.”

You blinked at her for a moment before shaking your head.

“I call bullshit.”

“What kind of friends nap together all the time?” She pushed, approaching to crouch on the floor beside you, crossing her arms and resting them on your legs. “I mean—come on. Come on. The boy can’t keep his hands off you.”

“That’s bull—” your phone rang and you both jumped. You reached out but Tara grabbed it first and you yelped, diving for the brunette as she giggled and ran, answering the call.

“Hey Sleepy.” She cooed, reading off Ethan’s contact name. She shot you a wink as your face burned. “What’s—” she paused. Then she looked at you, a curious expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah. She’s here, hold on.” Tara passed you the phone and you snatched it away, heartbeat quickening as you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.” Ethan’s voice met your ear and you tensed. He sounded…sad? Distressed? “Can you come over? Please?”

“Why what happened?” You asked, already standing up. Screw it, you’d take your makeup wipes with you and remove your half-finished look. Tara was watching you, looking a bit worried, as she handed you your purse.

“I don’t know I just…can you just come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, E.” You said, listening to the phone click as you looked to Tara. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing he—he kind of sounded like…like he was crying or something. All he said was ‘Tara, give me Y/N please.’” She paused. “Is he okay, or—?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry for leaving. Dunkin in the morning?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

So you left, going to Ethan’s dorm as fast as you could. You knew Chad was out with Mindy and Anika, and assumed that that’s why Ethan had called. But why did he sound so…upset?

You used your spare key that Ethan had made you to enter, knocking first, then pushed inside. When you got to Ethan’s room you saw him sitting with his head in his hands, but he soon looked up at you. His expression was pained and you felt a stab of anxiety run through you.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, setting your stuff down as you moved to him, sitting down beside your friend.

“I um..” he trailed off, looking at you then away. “this is embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” You said, reaching out to rub his back. “Tell me what happened.” Baby. You’d almost called him baby at the end of that sentence. You were insanely glad that you hadn’t.

“I have night terrors.” He said after a weighted pause, his eyes shifting to yours. “I cant sleep sometimes. When I’m alone I—I just…I just toss and turn. Everything freaks me out I don’t like to be alone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Night terrors? About what?”

“Well,” his face turned a shade of pink and he looked away. “well I was trying to go to bed and then I saw you and—” he paused, breath hitching, and you felt your chest tighten. “It’s fine. You’re here now, right? You’re fine.” He seemed to be trying to convince himself, his eyes darting across your face like he wasn’t sure this was real, and something in you cracked.

“Is that why you’re always so tired with me?” You asked, frowning. “Because you cant sleep alone?”

“No.” He said, and you stared at him in confusion, but he cut you off before you could speak. “I sleep with you because I feel…safe with you.” He seemed embarrassed again and glanced down at his hands. “I don’t feel comfortable with anyone else. Not like—not like you..” he sighed and blinked up at the ceiling, seeming to fight back a wince. “Im totally weirding you out right now, aren’t I.”

You watched him for a moment, contemplative, before you kicked off your shoes. He could only stare as you moved to the opposite side of his bed and shoved your shorts off, left in a huge t-shirt curtesy of Ethan himself.

“It’s not weird.” You said, slipping under the covers, and smacked the mattress next to you. He still stared, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, E. Get in the bed.”

A hesitant laugh left him as he did so, climbing in beside you. It was muscle memory, at this point: your head on his chest, his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You felt his soft breaths on your hair as you settled, adjusting into the familiarity of his body as you rested.

“You know I care about you, right?” Ethan asked into the darkness, his thumb brushing soft strokes against your waist. “Like..more than anyone.”

You smiled against him.

“Are you saying you have a crush on me, Sleepy?” You teased, and he startled you by instantly saying, “Yeah”.

You sat up a bit, looking at him, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks had gone red. You brushed his hair away from his forehead and ran your fingers across his cheek, your head tilting.

“Then do something about it.” You whispered, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, before he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to yours.

-

Core Four

Chad: Y/N?

Chad: Y/N I know you’re getting these messages. I added you back to the groupchat a week ago.

Y/N: what do you want

Chad: my BOY over here says he’s going to his GIRLFRIENDS HOUSE TO WATCH A MOVIE

Chad: WHICH?? GIRLFRIEND???

Tara: WHAT

Mindy: Ew.

Y/N: he has a girlfriend?

Chad: …

Chad: it’s not you??? he just left the house like an hour ago

Y/N: why would you think it’s me??

Chad: BECAUSE

Tara: nooo my fave ship

Mindy: Thank God.

Y/N: *image*

Y/N: idk what movie he was planning on watching because this man is out like a fuckin light

Tara: AHHHHHHHHHHHJOANASKNKSN

Chad: WHAT THE HEEEEEELLLLLL🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Mindy: I hate you all.

[paigebuckets6]

Number One Pick

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x reader

Genre: Homoerotic friendship, cheating, smut, angst + comfort ending.

Summary: You want Caitlin to pick you over her boyfriend Connor, just once.

Warnings: Smut with plot! Fingering, name calling/pet names, teasing, mild degradation

The game against Chicago Sky was close.

Caitlin had been booked and busy lately, playing 11 games in 20 days. This was the second game you were able to attend in person, as the only other had been her very first game of the season.

During the third quarter, you watch Chennedy Carter knock Caitlin to the ground while waiting for an inbound pass. You scream "flagrant foul!" with the rest of your section, but the refs declare it an away-from-ball foul.

It doesn't end up mattering anyway, though, cause the game ends 71 to 70.

The crowd is roaring, and you're cheering as loud as you can, watching the pride all over Caitlin's face. This was Indiana Fever's second win of the season, so you can't help but grin like an idiot at Caitlin and her teammates all celebrating on the court, high fiving, and yelling.

After Caitlin finishes her after post-game interview, she picks you up into a bear hug, her eyes lit up with happiness.

"We won!!! I missed you so much y/n"

Caitlin buries her face in your neck and her hands linger on your waist for a few seconds longer than necessary before she puts you down. You smile at her, patting her back.

"Yeah, I saw!! You did so good"

Caitlin rubs her arm absent-mindedly,

"I'm tired as hell.. I think my ankle hurts from earlier, too."

You just smile, and grab her bag from her.

"Come on, I parked outside"

Normally Caitlin drives, but you know she's exhausted from tonight, so you drive. She falls asleep in the car, and while you're stopped at a stoplight, you watch the way her hair's fanned out prettily on the headrest. Her eyelashes are dark, creating crescent shadows under her eyes. She looks so tired, the dark circles much more prominent than you remember.

You pull up to Caitlin's hotel- you're staying with her for a few days. She's been lonely lately, and wanting you to come visit. After her game tomorrow against New York Liberty she'll have a few free days until her game against the Washington Mystics on the 7th.

You're shorter than Caitlin- most people were, considering she was 6'0, and certainly not as strong, so you can't pick her up in her sleep, but in this moment you wish you could.

"Caitlin, we're here"

She blinks groggily and gets out of the car, and you make it all the way upstairs before she just flops onto the bed.

"Ugghhhh.. sorry y/n, I know I asked you to come stay, but I'm just so wiped..."

Caitlin groans into her pillow as her phone starts blowing up with notifications. During games she keeps it off, but now that she's at the hotel and connected to wifi, everything's pouring in.

"Probably just Twitter covering the Carter foul.. bullshit"

She turns over onto her side, looking at you.

"Yeah I saw that, what the hell was that foul??"

Caitlin rubs her arm again and you scoot closer to her on the bed, checking for a bruise.

"Nothing, you're good- and man, maybe they'll reevaluate?"

Caitlin just kicks off her shoes, chucking them closer to the door.

"They asked me about it during the post-game interview.. whatever, honestly, we still won."

Just then, Caitlin's phone rings, high and shrill. Connor's name flashes on the screen, bold and large.

"Who- oh him"

She ignores the call, flipping her phone over.

"I'm gonna take a shower- hopefully I'll be less dead after that and dinner"

Caitlin walks away then, not bothering to even give her phone a second glance, as she pulls clothes out for her shower.

Around 20 minutes later you hear the water turn off and she comes out of the bathroom with her hair wet, in nothing but a tank top and shorts.

You shift your position on the bed at the sight of her, crossing your legs at the feeling.

Caitlin presses a knee into the mattress and stands with her arms out.

"Come here, I'm sleepy"

Your heart wrenches a little, you're sure you're half in love with Caitlin- and how could you not be. Whatever this is between you two, you refuse to label it as just friendship. You wish you could.

Even still, you crawl over and hug her waist, breathing in the scent of her fresh shampoo. Her head rests on top of yours, water droplets hitting the back of your shirt.

"You should eat something-"

You say, your words slightly muffled by her chest and shirt. Her hands are in your hair, tangled in the strands, combing gently.

"Yeahhhh.. about that"

Caitlin tilts your head up to look at her, her fingers cool under your jaw. You feel her switch her weight to her other leg, sliding her knee between your legs.

Her brown eyes are dark, desire dilating her pupils, and you feel yourself longing for her more than you'd like to admit. You feel the pull in your stomach and subconsciously your hands grip her waist a little tighter as you stare at her.

You know what's gonna happen, even though you've told yourself over and over again to not let it happen. To just be friends, to set some boundaries, because she's got Connor and you can't just keep doing this, that she'd never pick you over him. But you just can't find it in yourself to hold back right now, the want too much.

Caitlin kisses you hungrily, hands on your face, and she pushes you over onto the bed, hips straddling your waist.

You moan into her mouth, hands pulling her in. You squeeze her ass as she adjusts on top of you.

"Take this off," She demands, and you take off your shirt quickly.

Caitlin just raises a brow, unhooking your bra for you, and sucks your nipple immediately, fingers kneading the other.

"Oh Caitlin-" You clutch at her hair as her hands continue to roam over you, pulling off your sleep shorts.

"You're so wet for me.. just waiting for me to do this huh?"

Caitlin's face is cocky, playful smirk playing on her face. Her fingers dip into your wetness, circling your clit, and she smirks wider as your hips raise slightly at her touch.

"Did you touch yourself thinking of me when I was away? Been my little slut?"

You moan at her words.

"Yes..." You admit.

"You like it when I call you a slut? My slut?" She asks, pressing kisses right under your jaw.

You moan a yes out as she pushes two fingers easily into you.

"Look at that, taking me so well"

Caitlin's going at a quick pace, her palm rubbing against your clit. You're gonna come fast if she keeps this up, and you feel it building in your lower stomach.

"I'm- I'm gonna come.. Caitlin"

You arch your back as she continues to hit your g spot roughly.

Caitlin grabs your face, making you look at her again.

"Come for me, I wanna hear you say my name y/n"

"Fuck Caitlin.. Caitlin.." You moan her name as you climax, finishing all over her.

She sucks her fingers when she takes them out, and you pull her down into a kiss.

"Wait, what about Connor?" You whisper, giving her an out, even though you know that's never stopped her.

"Who cares about him-" She says, panting slightly, too busy chasing her own high as your fingers dip into the waistband of her shorts.

"Fair-" It's your turn to smirk, even though the temporary win is bittersweet.

You find her clit easily, her underwear soaked.

"You made me feel so good, baby." The term of affection slips out by mistake, but she doesn't seem to notice as you kiss down her neck.

"Come on y/n, make me come-"

Caitlin's demand is cut short when her phone rings again, and Connor's name flashes on the screen for the second time.

"You gonna pick that up?" You tease as she sits up, looking at her phone. Your fingers are buried inside her, curling to hit her g spot, and you can tell she's warring with herself, even on top of you.

"I- uh-" Caitlin's moans are breathy, her hips rocking into your thrusts.

"You should answer, tell him who's fucking you"

You're being a little mean, annoyed at yourself for letting yourself get swept up in her again, annoyed at his existence, she doesn't even love him- so you tease her further by pulling her down onto you again.

"Fuck- I.. I can't.. I'm gonna come y/n"

Caitlin's moaning into your ear, her hand still clutched around the phone, the call ringtone loud and annoying, just like Connor himself.

"I want everyone to hear who's fucking you like this, cause it ain't him-"

"Y/n... oh god y/n" Caitlin comes, her body flush against yours. You bite her as she does, leaving a pretty hickey smack in the middle of her neck that she'll have to cover up later.

The call goes to voice-mail, and Caitlin's phone sits forgotten beside you two.

Caitlin gets off you, refreshed grin on her face.

"That was good.. UGH.. I guess I'll have to call him back later-"

You're not surprised, this is common. You wonder if you should say something, if you'll finally have the courage to tell her that this is the last time, that you can't keep doing this because you like her more than you should.

"Is it always gonna be like this Cait?"

You ask her, watching her run some water on a towel to throw to you, as per usual.

"What? It's just sex y/n" Caitlin avoids your eyes as she replies, pulling a shirt on.

"You're my best friend, it can't just be sex- he doesn't fuck you like this, doesn't make you feel like this!"

Caitlin's stepping into her shorts, her eyebrows knit together.

"He tries! And I don't know.. we're just friends..."

She trails off, like she's unsure of her own words.

You can't believe she wants to keep avoiding how she feels,

"Who was there at your first game of the season? Who was on call after every game after, debriefing with you? It wasn't him!"

"Y/n.."

You keep going as you throw on clothes of your own, suddenly feeling vulnerable naked in front of her.

"We act like girlfriends, in every sense but the title- we do everything together, we have sex, we call every night- do you even love him? You know this is more than sex."

Caitlin's standing up now, hand on her forehead.

"I... I don't know if I love him.. but I'm not gay! Or at least.. not-"

"What, not for me? Do you hear yourself??" You scoff at her.

Maybe it's too much, everything that's been going on, because Caitlin bursts into tears.

"Cait-" You say, lost for words as the tears run down her cheeks. She hates crying.

"It's too much.. being out here alone, not playing with Kate, Jada, Gabbie- being the rookie.. dealing with Connor.. and.."

She wipes at her eyes, looking at the bedspread as she tries to get out her next words.

"And how I feel about you- I know it's not fair to you that I'm still with him"

Your heart physically aches at her confession and you tap the spot on the bed next to you, placing her phone on the bedside table.

Caitlin hides her face in your chest, arms clutching you tightly.

"I'm sorry y/n"

You soothe her, stroking her hair,

"Shhhhh.. it's okay Cait"

She looks up at you, pushing herself upright.

"No, you're right.. it's not.. I thought if I kept trying to like him, that it might happen- and if I tried hard enough, maybe I'd feel even a fraction of how I feel around you, around him."

You move the hair out of her face, wiping away her tears.

"I get it" You say, as she continues.

"You're more than my best friend.. it'd be stupid to say this was just sex.. I don't want to lose you"

Caitlin's clutching your hands, and you want to believe her, to believe in you two.

Her phone rings again.

"It's Connor" You say softly.

There's determination in her eyes now, a fire you hadn't seen before. She takes the call, swiping across the screen.

"Hey I can't talk, I'll text later" Caitlin says briskly, before hanging up. You smile wide at her, despite yourself and the situation, and she smiles back.

"I'll dump him, I'm gonna make this right.. you're my number one pick y/n.. I swear it"

Caitlin's eyes are wide, solemn and honest. You believe her.

The clock on the wall reads 1 am and the tiredness hits you like a wave. You know she must be exhausted too.

You say softly,

"Why don't you start by cuddling me and sleeping?"

Caitlin's eyes light up at your words, relieved.

"Okay, I can do that"

Caitlin settles under the covers, and you feel yourself falling asleep as you kiss her forehead.

Guess she really would pick you over him.

---

Authors Note: I know I usually write for Paige but I've been wanting to write a fic with this concept and couldn't make Paige work. Hope y'all don't mind the change, Paige fic coming soon.

[bandgie]

Rule Breaker | Armageddon Event

Request: Lust | Kim Seungmin & Lee Minho (SKZ) by anon song!

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, somno, dubious, PIV, no protection, 3some (minho doesn't do much), bondage/tentacle, incubus!minho, incubus!seungmin, human!reader, seungmin's first time with a human, piss mention, brief aftercare

notes: this one took a min sorry !

Seungmin’s a little grossed out, a little nervous, and a lot of turned on. He can’t help how his cock chubs up at the sight of Minho flipping you on your back. His slimy appendages work diligently to make sure you stay sleeping, your slow breaths never changing as you settle comfortably.

“You must do this often.” Seungmin can’t help but notice the smooth way Minho does everything. Even removing the blanket, you don’t so much as shiver.

Minho smiles somewhat pridefully. “Oh. She’s used to it.” He’s mindful of keeping his voice low. “A ‘lil something we like to do pretty often. You’re just a surprise for her.” Seungmin rolls his eyes at Minho’s wink.

The elder chuckles. Minho lifts you off the bed with the tentacles sprouting from his back just enough to slide in. This time, you do shift in your sleep. Seungmin holds his breath as Minho stills, waiting for you to stop squirming against him before you inevitably slump back.

Seungmin exhales. He didn’t believe it when Minho told him he found himself a human lover. Incubi have a rather…difficult time sticking with one partner, so a mortal girlfriend seemed like a weird prank.

But as Seungmin stands there, his sharp nails digging into his palm as Minho finally rests between you and the bed, that joke seems to be the very truth.

Drool begins to pool in his mouth when Minho’s appendages spread your legs. Your demon lover had told you to sleep nude. You listened, obviously, and now your cunt is on display for Seungmin who stands at the edge of the bed.

His cock jumps.

Minho smiles as if he knows. He does know. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Seungmin breaks eye contact with your folds to glare at Minho. “No. I’m not.” To prove his point, Seungmin chucks his shirt off. He ignores how Minho blatantly ogles at his bare skin, moving to remove his itchy, human pants next. 

The first step is to subdue the human, which is…already done. There’s hardly much to do with Minho keeping you open, asleep, and restrained. But Seungmin is glad to do less work.

The next thing would be to provide stimulation. Not enough to wake them, but enough to work them up, oozing with arousal. Oral is the quickest way. Seungmin is already beginning to lie on his stomach when a tentacle halts his shoulder.

He has to try not to smack it away. “Don’t touch me with that thing.” Minho ignores his rude comment. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But the rules state it’s mandatory to-”

The appendage pushes harder against Seungmin until it forces him to sit straight up. “Damn, Seungmin.” Minho scoffs a bit. “Don’t be such a square. Demons are supposed to break the rules, remember?” The same tentacle that moved Seungmin takes place on your stomach. It squirms around the flesh of your tummy, reaching up to slide and curl around your breasts.

“Every human is different,” Minho turns his head to look at you. “Some prefer head, others breasts play. There’s even some that skip the bullshit and get straight to it.” His eyes turn affectionate when he looks at you, an emotion Seungmin doesn’t too often see in Minho. 

“This one likes…well…I’ll just show you what my human likes.”

Two tentacles hold your legs apart, one wraps around your breast, and the fourth one slithers its way between your legs. The point tickles your folds, not daring to travel further down as it focuses on your clit.

Your reaction is almost instantaneous. Your lips part and a soft sigh leaves your chest. All there is to feel is the tip of the moist appendage sliding against your most sensitive spot. Arousal gushes from your hole and Seungmin watches as a drop pathetically slides down your ass.

“It’s pretty easy once you know what the human wants.” Minho continues his lesson. “Just the smallest touch on her pussy gets her so wet. Just gotta rub in little circles and she’ll open up real nice for ‘ya.”

Seungmin watches in real time how wet you grow. Your hips swivel just the tiniest bit in your sleep for friction. The tentacle flicks faster, getting you to make tired whines. Seungmin doesn’t know why Minho’s dragging this out. Their job is to get in and out. You’re more than ready for penetration. Your hole clenches with every swipe of his appendage. Your thighs grow damper with every grind.

Maybe it’s because of your human scent, but Seungmin has never felt such an intense desire. It’s his job to get you aroused. Yet, judging by the aching in his cock, that seems far from the truth.

Seungmin crawls closer, his hands on your soft thighs to get a good look at your dripping cunt. He licks his lips. “Hyung. How much longer-”

“Now.” Minho sounds a little breathless. “I just wanted to give you a hard time, but I can tell your dick’s about to explode if you don’t put it in soon.”

The snickers from Minho are ignored as Seungmin lines up his tip with your entrance. There’s no doubt in his mind you’ll wake up. Not that he’s the biggest guy out there, but Seungmin can easily see how much your walls would have to stretch.

You’ll be so tight. So warm and wet inside. Seungmin’s been told countless times that human pussy just feels different. They’re imperfect. Some spots are softer than others, some cunts break easily whereas you have to work for some. He’s eager to get his first taste of mortality in its rawest form. Even if Minho’s eyes watch him almost uncomfortably and his tentacle swoops down to help him push it in, he’ll endure it.

The slime acts as an extra lubricant. Minho giggles while he strokes Seungmin, finding amusement in his twitching face. “You can be pretty cute, Seungminnie.”

Seungmin only groans in response. Minho must've gotten you wrapped around his tentacle with that stupid smooth talk.

Minho’s tentacle forms a tight ring around the base of Seungmin’s cock. It gently tugs until Seungmin gets the message to ease his tip in.

Everything between your legs is sticky. Strings of slickness from both you and Minho look arousing as Seungmin sinks in. Your legs twitch from the intrusion. Seungmin should slow down or come to a full stop, but he can’t with Minho pulling him deeper in and your walls caving easily.

The rules he’s learned state that you should be sleeping the entire time. It’s for precaution mostly. You wake up confused as to why your sheets and pussy are wet while Seungmin and every other incubus keep their identity hidden from humans.

But like Minho said - when did demons ever follow rules?

So Seungmin buries himself until Minho’s appendage touches your cunt. The tentacle quickly unravels itself and goes back to your clit. Seungmin moans when he finally fills you to his hilt, his cock completely vanished inside.

“W-what…” Your voice is groggy.  Everything is blurry even as you try to blink in front of you. “Why are you…” Seungmin can feel the moment when your eyes properly adjust on him without having to look up. “You’re not-”

He presses deeper until his pelvis is flush against you. Your words are cut off by a squeal. Your walls twitch and convulse around Seungmin’s cock and it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. 

Hopefully, your lover's words will be enough to soothe you while Seungmin finds a pace. 

“Shhh. That’s just my friend, jagiya. He’s testing right now.”

Your eyes focus on the demon in front of you. His nails dig sharply into your skin and you swear you can see the glint of curved horns on his head. His cock bullies into you relentlessly like an animal in heat. Minho’s words are drowned out by the constant pounding of his hips, but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

“I think he likes you.” Minho smiles against your ear. Your body jolts on top of his, but the tentacles hold you still enough. “Should have seen him when I first brought him here. He wanted to fuck you real bad.”

Seungmin’s cock slides in and out with ease. The pleasure feels almost unbearable as you're restrained. There’s no way to move with him, to adjust yourself so he stops hitting that gummy spot too deep inside. All you can do is take his strokes and endure the sharp pleasure in your stomach.

“L-likes me?” You should be more concerned with who this stranger is, but he’s fucking you too good to care. 

Minho hums. “A lot. You’re the first human he’s had. So make sure to be good to him.”

You nod furiously, unable to look away from the cock that digs into you. So much cream and slick froths up with every pound. It’s impossible to tell which one of you made the mess, but you’re willing to bet Minho had more than a helping hand in it.

Seungmin’s chest heaves with every pump. He can feel your essence build quickly, giving him little spoonfuls of your energy that he greedily takes. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he can’t himself when he finally makes eye contact with you.

You look like a lustful dream. Your breasts bounce with every move that the tentacle follows and your eyes glaze over naturally. Incubi have a natural aphrodisiac during mating, but there seems to be no need to amp it when your own aroused scent covers the room. 

“I-i’ll be good.” You gasp. Seungmin's gaze pierces you and he watches you shiver. “Am I good?”

He moans again, sitting back on his haunches to get a good angle. Seungmin smiles just the faintest when you whine. “Real good. You gonna give me your cum?”

Minho raises an eyebrow at his underling. He almost mocked him, but he stops himself when you nod. “Yes. So close.”

They can tell. You gush exceptionally on Seungmin’s cock and Minho knows your body all too well. His hand gropes and twists your free nipple while the other keeps your chin steady on Seungmin, making you clench even tighter on the demon fucking you. You let the appendages hold you as they fit. Even if it makes your legs ache from being bent at the knee, you happily remain pliant for the incubi using you.

A flick to your clit makes you keen. Minho’s slippery friend smoothes over your cunt, making sure to grind so swollen nub has no choice to feel it.

“Shit!” Some white cream forms a pretty ring on Seungmin’s cock. “Look at that.”

Minho picks his head up to gaze down. He smiles when he sees it. “Cute, huh? My human does it all. Cream, squirts, pisses…nasty slut.” Minho grips your tits harder. “I love it.”

Seungmin’s pace becomes less sharp and more fluid. His cock seems now familiar with your cunt, finding your cervix he has no issue kissing with his tip. All you can feel is them inside and outside of you. Your orgasm claws its way through your body unbelievably quickly.

Your wrists twist from Minho holding you captive. “Cumming! ‘m cumming, ‘m cumming!”

Seungmin’s supposed to still his hips. He’s supposed to make sure your energy coats his cock and embeds in his skin. His own orgasm doesn’t technically matter, he’s supposed to be satisfied with yours alone.

But you’re squeezing him just right. Your walls keep hugging like you don't want him to stop. For fucks sake, your cervix keeps kissing him back. How is he supposed to pull away?

So he doesn’t. Even as your moans turn into babbling sounds and you lay completely spent on Minho’s chest, he fucks you until his cock twitches and his orgasm approaches.

“I don’t think this part’s in the handbook, Seungminnie.” But Minho’s face is far from concerned and closer to satisfied. “Don’t you think you’re enjoying your first time a little too much?”

The only response he has is a guttural groan. Ropes of cum shoot deep inside and Seungmin doesn’t even think of the repercussions he might face finishing in Minho’s woman, but he doesn’t care too much.

“How about you, jagiya? You like Seungminnie’s cum inside?”

“Ngh~”

Seungmin chuckles despite his face still contorting in remnants of pleasure as he slides out. Cum seems to pool out of you obscenely. Every twitch and pulse from your cunt has more cream oozing out and as if it knows, Minho’s appendage scoops up the release to shove back in.

“What did I teach you?” Minho playfully tuts “Gotta keep it all inside, remember? You’re embarrassing me in front of my coworker.”

You babble some more, turning your head to tiredly look at your lover and snuggle closer. Minho pecks your nose, his bunny teeth poking out as he carefully releases you from his hold and tucks his appendages into his back. His arms wrap around your nude torso, flipping to the side so he can snuggle behind you comfortably. 

Seungmin feels as though he might vomit.

“Don’t look like that.” Minho scrunches his nose in distaste. “You’re the one that did this, you know.”

The younger demon only rolls his eyes. He means to put on his clothes and leave you two love birds alone, but when he sees you made grabby hands almost innocently, he finds himself sandwiching you between him and Minho. 

Your lover giggles and looks straight at Seungmin, your back flush to his chest as you slowly slip back to sleep. “This isn’t part of the rules either. You’re a bad little demon.”

“I’m gonna fucking punch you.”

[reallyromealone]

Title: god what have we done

Chapter: prologue

Fandom: Encanto

Characters: Encanto cast, unnamed characters

Fic type: angst to romance

Pairings: Bruno x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, darker Bruno, homie is 7 feet tall, Bruno is jaded, kind of an ass, reader just wants to smooch him

Notes:

Summary: Bruno can't shake an Omega who has declared them to be the perfect match

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bruno raised an eyebrow at the Omega infront of him "you're not here for a reading?" He asked with disbelief dripping from his voice, taking a drag from his cigarette mid sentence with barely a fuck to give the Omega who had a look of determination.

"Don't you want to see the love of your life or some shit?"

"I don't want to know my future"

"Everyone wants to know their future"

"Not me" (name) shrugged and the Alpha scoffed "bullshit, you will eventually and some way it will be my fault"

(Name) Wanted to be annoyed at the alphas attitude but he knew better seeing as people come to see their future and throw tantrums when they don't get what they want, could you blame him? "I came to bring you this" in his hands was a jar... Of ajiaco?

What game was this?

What was the Omega playing at?

Then it clicked...

Well time to nip this at the bud.

Bruno sighed and stood, a towering seven feet tall and having to lean down to look at the other "and why would a little Omega like you want to come all this way to bring me this?" (Name) Was unwavering at the glowing green eyes and slight stubble on the Alphas face "I wish to court you"

Well wasn't he forward?

An Omega asking an alpha out like this, unheard of in this backwater town-- his mom would have had an aneurysm at the concept of an Omega breaking courting traditions but she lost her mind at basically anything so Bruno didn't care much about her thoughts and opinions.

But (name) of all people asking him out like this?

Bruno knew who (name) was, a male Omega was rare, (name) being the only one in town and had countless suitors chasing after him and yet this little thing wanted to court him?

Was he trying to piss his parents off?

He almost chucked at the other but he wasn't going to entertain his delusions.

He was no fool, especially to pretty omegas like (name).

And so the words came easy off his tongue.

"No" Brunos voice cold and clear, taking another drag of his cigarette while standing back up and looking down at him as he was nothing but instead of a teary eyed Omega, he saw determination "I was expecting you to say that, I'll be back tomorrow! Save space for lunch!" And with that the omega wandered off, the Alpha scoffing before putting out his cigarette with a glare.

He felt this omega was going to be a headache.

And (name) was apparently a man of his word.

Everyday like clockwork he harassed the Alpha with delicious treats and meals, annoying him with conversation and frivolous nonsense.

"So what do you do for fun?"

"Smoke"

"I like to read and recently I have taken the hobby paper folding... I found a book about it in the shop"

"I don't care"

"You do anything today?"

"No"

"I just helped with my parents shop, my papa is planning on opening a cafe so people can read and have a nice drink and snack" Bruno didn't know why he let the other go on and on but he did, going through half a pack of cigarettes before (name) was gone for the day, always leaving food and a recent development; a paper creation that be left for him.

There was a collection building in Bruno's den.

He didn't know why he kept them but he did.

These days turned into months and before he knew it.

(Name) Was worming his way into the others life like a parasite.

It was late, (name) and Bruno sat in comfortable silence and the Alpha hadn't realized so much time passed when (name) slumped against his shoulder, sleeping contently and causing the Alpha to freeze unsure what to do.

But his alpha instincts had other plans, gently putting his head on his lap while petting his nape.

God what was he getting into...

Maybe he should see his own future...

Rip the bandaid off...

But Bruno didn't want this... Whatever it was to end, deep down be knew he was beginning to care for the Omega and begrudgingly...

He knew he wanted them to stay.

But he knew better...

He knew that (name) would come to his senses.

It was just a matter of time.

(Name) Stared up secretly while Bruno was lost in thought, not quite asleep yet but he just wanted to admire the other before he succumbed.

The Alpha was so pretty... Slightly scruffy with his curly hair up in a bun with a bit of his bangs framing his face, always wearing that green poncho that (name) had learned was quite soft... And those eyes.

Oh how he could stare at those eyes for hours.

(Name) Closed his eyes once more and cuddled into him....

He wouldn't miss this chance to be close.

And that night was the best sleep (name) and Bruno ever had.

Bruno sighed as he lit a cigarette in an alleyway while everyone celebrates Juiletas wedding, the whole village in attendance as people danced and sang. "I don't think I could convince you to a dance, could I?" (Name) Asked with a slight teasing in his voice and the Alpha glanced at him bored "when the mountains move, I'll dance with you" the Alpha blew smoke in (name)s face, the other coughing slightly with a glare "so why are you hiding from your sisters wedding" (name) leaned against the wall beside him, the Alpha towering comparatively "I have no interest in this shit"

(Name) Hummed and pulled out something wrapped in a cloth from his jacket pocket and unwrapped an Empanada and took a bite before offering some to the Alpha, standing on his toes to get it to the others lips, Bruno raising an eyebrow at this "what are you doing?" His voice bland and slightly confused "I haven't seen you eat yet!" (Name) Huffed and the Alpha rolled his eyes before taking a bite, the food was fucking delicious but he was not about to admit that. "So...?" (Name) Asked hopefully and Bruno leaned down close, lips barely brushing before speaking "I had better" a bold faced lie that Bruno would never admit, seeing the others pout made him chuckle. "So why are you in an alley way with me hm? It's not proper for an Omega to be with an alpha while unmarked"

"It's rather dangerous, Omega" Bruno continued when the other looked confused "left alone with an alpha, anything could happen" it was an attempt to scare the other off but (name) just stared at him with blown out pupils, completely calm "you won't hurt me" (name) said simply and cupped the others face when it got close enough "oh? And how could you be so sure?" Bruno huffed amused, subconsciously leaning into the others touch "because you had countless times where you could have taken advantage of me but you havent"

"Many alphas would have taken any second to take advantage of that but you turned me away at every courting attempt, you don't care about my secondary gender... It's one of the reasons I fell for you" (name) admitted before kissing Bruno's cheek "and I'm in this alleyway with you because you're the only one at this party I want to be beside"

Bruno released the other from his hold, a look of uncertainty in his eyes towards the Omega who looked at him like he hung the moon.

"(Name)? There you are~" a slightly slurred voice called from the alleyway entrance, (name) visibly freezing at the sight of his most persistent suitor while Bruno could smell the faint scent of annoyance from the Omega "oh? And you're with the town's monster? How... Unique" Bruno glared at the other with a venom (name) didn't think was possible. "So Bruno, how is life? Cause more people misfortune? See someone having a miscarriage? Curse an old woman with the death of her husband?" These were things that Bruno had seen prior, things that made the village view him even worse, blaming him for the death of an old man and a baby who didn't have a chance to take their first breath.

"(Name), sweety" the suitor said getting closer and (name) could smell the alcohol on his breath "it would be in your best interest to get away from the likes of him, nothing but tragedy follows Bruno Madrigal" reaching towards (name) to get him away from Bruno but a large hand slapped it away.

Bruno looked murderous "I suggest you go back from which you came, wouldn't want to find out you lose your hair in the future, no?"

The suitors face morphed into one of anxiety and anger but turned away none the less and the two were left alone.

"You can't even do that, can you?" Turning around (name) looked around for the alpha but Bruno was no longer standing there, just (name) and the lingering scent of Bruno.

like that, Bruno was gone.

And (name) was by himself.

(Name) Tried to visit the Alpha the following morning, the Madrigal family watching with saddened expressions when (name) was rejected each and every time "he takes time to open up, give him Patience" Peppa said softly, worried clouds forming over her head while (name) smiled sadly "I know I can be quite forward with the things that my heart desires... I just... When I look at him it's like the world rights itself..." His voice wistful and so loving, it hurt that Bruno kept pushing him away... He knew he should accept that the Alpha didn't want him but he just couldn't step back...

It felt like fate to be with him.

So (name) came by every day and sat infront of the door, chatting to the Alpha about his families book store and even reading from the book he brought and when he had to leave, there was always a basket of treats for the Alpha.... But it seemed the only ones who enjoyed them were the rats.

"At least you enjoy them" (name) whispered to a rat that crawled from the basket, carefully lifting it into his hold "do you know what he's doing up there? If so could you give him this note?" The Omega carefully tied a note to the rat, surprised when the rat seemed to understand what he was conveying before running off.

Bruno's space was destroyed, the Alpha sweating and scratching at himself. He got too close! He got to close to (name), he could have hurt him!

After visit three, Bruno read his future with (name) and...

He saw (name) crying.

Alone and crying, holding a pup... Their pup.

And on his finger was a string...

He knew (name) was his soulmate...

He knew it but he didn't want to hurt (name) the way he would if he pursued the relationship.

But could he change fate? The future was set in stone was it not?

"He came by again...?" He could hear the omegas voice faintly travel through the vast room, his voice calming to his ears but painful for his heart.

This was for the best.

It had to be.

[mrs-dr-reid]

Scary Dog Privilege

(A Wolverine Fic)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader practically begs Logan to be her fake boyfriend at a gala, but ends up getting more than she bargained for

Genre: Fluffy throughout, a teensy bit angsty near the end, and a dash of "oh my god, just KISS ALREADY!!!" sprinkled in pretty much everywhere

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive language, fake boyfriend trope, friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, more than platonic touches, tw food/alcohol, crying, protective!Logan, the image of Logan in a tux (yes, that's a warning), Tony Stark being... himself, a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine and an average/small reader (size difference, yaaaaay)

A/N: Big thanks to @snixkers for being my designated Wolvie Beta Reader, as well as a handful of buddies in my writers discord for helping me turn the head words into page words (you know who you are).

Word Count: 4419

———————————————————————

This is going to be a disaster, Y/N thought as she stared hopelessly at the event notification on her phone: Superhero Gala tonight!!!

It was her least favorite day of the year, even though on paper it was a good thing. All of the Avengers and all the X-Men getting together and hosting a gala fundraiser to raise money for a different cause every year, as well as “celebrate the spirit of collaboration among heroes” or whatever preachy bullshit Charles is always on about.

She just knew that she’d inevitably be stuck getting hit on by drunken aristocratic strangers in a dress she didn’t want to be wearing, just like every other year. She’d much rather be honing her abilities or reading a book, but attendance was mandatory for every adult living at the mansion, much to her chagrin.

Y/N paced the length of her bedroom, worrying about her certain doom, when she got an idea. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was better than no idea at all. She stuffed her phone in her back pocket, then ventured down to the kitchen where she was hoping she’d find who she was looking for, and she was right.

Logan was sitting at the island munching on a piece of toast and nursing a flask of what she assumed was whiskey, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She said, “Howlett, I need to talk to you in private.”

Logan looked up from his breakfast and said, “Good morning to you too, L/N,” mostly unbothered by her request.

Y/N rolled her eyes and said, “NOW, please.”

He raised a hand in surrender and said, “Alright, Bossy Pants,” before following her into the other room away from the prying ears of Jean, Scott, and Ororo.

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N said, “Okay, I’m gonna ask you to do something kinda weird, but I promise if you do it, I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”

Logan raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I need you to be my scary dog privilege tonight at the gala.”

The request hung in the air between them as Logan tried to process what the hell she just said to him. “You need me to be your what?”

Y/N sighed exasperatedly, then elaborated. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so the sleazy rich assholes leave me alone!” before steepling her hands and giving him her best puppy dog pout.

Logan wasn’t swayed, and he crossed his arms. “Why me? Couldn’t you ask McCoy?” Y/N glared at him, annoyed that he was being so difficult.

“Yes, I could ask Hank, but Hank is a teddy bear! You’re tall, you’re intimidating, it’s somewhat believable that we’d be together, and you have claws. And if you don’t do this, I promise you that if even one slimeball approaches me, I will use the ‘what not to do’ section of the Geneva Convention as a to-do list! So will you be my fake boyfriend or not?!”

Both of Logan’s eyebrows went up at this, and he said, “As entertainin’ as that would be, Chuck would probably ground you for committin’ war crimes against a civilian,” before starting to walk back to the kitchen.

In a panic, Y/N blabbed, “I’ll smuggle in cigars and booze for you for a month!” which stopped him in his tracks. Gotcha, Wolvie.

He turned back around, let out a groan in the back of his throat at the hopeful smile on Y/N’s face, then said, “Fine. But just this once,” before sticking out a hand to shake. She grinned, then shook his hand, trying her best to not think about how his hand completely engulfed hers or how warm and rough it was.

That evening, Logan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs alongside Scott for Jean and Y/N to come down, both men in sharp black tuxedos.

Scott said, “So, you’re L/N’s date tonight, huh?” with a shit-eating grin on his face, so Logan rolled his eyes, tugging at the collar of her dress clothes slightly. “She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Literally. If I refused, she was gonna kill the first stranger who told her she was pretty.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Then he fell silent, so Logan followed his gaze and tried to ignore the weird tug in the pit of his stomach when he saw Y/N trailing behind Jean. She looked like a completely different person than the woman he bantered with every day.

Her hair fell in a halo of perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup was done to perfection, diamond studs decorated her ears, and her dress… oh, that dress.

While its rhinestone-encrusted fabric covered every inch of her body except her collarbone and her hands, it hugged every curve like it was made especially for her (and it probably was). The slight padding of the shoulders and the emerald green hue made her look almost ethereal, and the matching shoes he could see peeking out from under the hem with every step she took added to the effect, though he wasn’t sure why.

Y/N stopped in front of him. “Well, you clean up nice, Howlett,” and adjusted his tie (which just so happened to match her dress). That snapped him out of his reverie before he cleared his throat. “You too, L/N. Shall we?”

He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Let’s get this over with,” before letting him lead her into the ballroom.

After he had initially agreed to this admittedly crazy scheme, Logan and Y/N had gone over different forms of PDA that they were each comfortable with. Y/N had told Logan that he could do whatever he needed to do to sell it, whereas he was more hesitant to give her carte blanche, only allowing lingering arm and shoulder touches or a kiss on the cheek if the situation desperately called for it.

Logan instantly clocked the bar the second they stepped foot inside, and before he could say anything, Y/N quipped, “I need to be drunk half an hour ago, let’s move,” and started pulling him towards the bar, causing him to let out a snort as he allowed her to drag him along.

He ordered a whiskey on the rocks while she stuck with a vodka soda, and after they were given their drinks, Logan said, “Say what you want about Stark. At least he has the decency to spring for an open bar, and it’s the good shit,” while swirling the liquid in his glass.

Y/N snickered and said, “I’ll drink to that.” She held her glass up for cheers, and Logan clinked his glass against hers, then downed about half of his whiskey in one swig.

Y/N had to blink to rid the image of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed from her mind, then she downed her drink as well. “Well, we better go find Charles and the others.”

He nodded in agreement, then put a hand at the small of her back as they ventured into the center of the room. Y/N spotted Charles amongst a circle of Avengers and X-Men including Captain America, Black Widow, and Iron Man as well as Hank, Scott, Jean, and Rogue. The two of them approached the circle, and Y/N said, “Partying hard or hardly partying?”

Charles looked away from the tall, blond man Y/N recognized from last year as Steve Rogers at the sound of her voice, then said, “Ah! There you two are! Logan, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff, and Mr. Stark from last year’s benefit,” and gestured between them.

Y/N smiled and said, “Of course. It’s great to see you again,” while shaking each of their hands, earning a “Likewise” from Steve, a nod from Natasha, and a smirk from Tony. He was surely about to say something lewd, but Logan stuck his hand out to shake just in time. “Mighty nice of ya to foot the bill on some decent booze, Stark,” his arm snaking protectively around Y/N’s waist.

If Charles and the other X-Men didn’t clock it, which was highly unlikely, they thankfully said nothing about it, but Tony recovered quickly enough that it wasn’t necessary anyway. He shook Logan’s hand and said, “Of course. Only the best for the best, amiright?” before shooting a wink in Y/N’s direction.

Logan bristled slightly, so Y/N took that as an opportunity to place a hand on his chest and say, “Lo, I believe I was promised a dance?” raising her eyebrows pointedly at him.

He said, “Right, yeah, absolutely, Doll Face. Nice seeing you again, but duty calls. Boyfriend duty, that is,” nodded at Steve and Natasha, then shot an almost gloating wink in Tony’s direction before giving Y/N his arm and whisking her off to the dance floor.

As they left, Y/N swore she heard Scott whisper incredulously, “‘Boyfriend’’?!” and Jean smack him in the chest, which made her stomach flip slightly at the thought that only Scott questioned the arrangement.

As they reached the dance floor, Y/N took note of the string quartet a few paces from the floor. “Open bar, and live entertainment? That Stark sure knows how to throw a party.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed, “If he took hints as good as he threw parties, then we’d be in business,” before he remembered that he wasn’t actually Y/N’s boyfriend, and there was no reason for him to be that pissed. So why was he?

Y/N said, “He’s the outlier in this situation. I’ve clocked at least eight different guys that have made to come talk to me, but immediately backtracked once they noticed you standing right next to me. I should bribe you to be my scary dog privilege more often!”

He just scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, don’t hold your breath,” but there was still a hint of a smile on his face as they joined the other couples waiting for the next song.

The musicians took up their instruments and began playing again, so Logan extended a hand to Y/N and said, “May I have this dance?” while raising a teasing eyebrow at her. She smiled, then took it and replied, “You may.”

He grinned before spinning her into his arms, a peal of laughter escaping her as she collided with his solid chest in a very ungraceful manner.

She giggled, “Logan!” He shrugged and said, “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?” neither of them acknowledging that she used his first name.

They kept dancing, Logan periodically making comments about the people around them just to hear her melodic laughter, and to any outsider, they looked just like any other couple; young (or seemingly young in Logan’s case) and in love, even though that wasn’t the case.

When the song ended, Y/N let out a breathless sigh and said, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?”

Logan held up a hand and said, “Nah, I’ve got all night to drink Stark outta house and home. Thank you, though.” Y/N nodded with a smile, then went to head for the bar, but Logan stopped her with a hand on her waist.

He said, “Hang on a sec, Doll,” then held her chin in place with his first two fingers and brushed some rogue strands of hair away from her face before murmuring, “There we go. Perfect.”

Y/N fought to keep a blush from staining her cheeks as she thanked him, then she scampered away to the bar after telling him she’d be back soon, hoping to god he didn’t notice the spike in her heart rate.

She reached the bar and ordered another vodka soda, somewhat breathlessly. As she waited, she ended up overanalyzing all that had transpired thus far, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Logan’s protectiveness around someone he knew wasn’t a threat? Going out of his way to play the Boyfriend Card in front of their teammates and collaborators? The pet names? The way he’s been looking at her since they stepped foot inside the ballroom?

As she was going through all of this, an unfamiliar man sidled up next to her at the bar and tried to strike up a conversation, much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Hey there, I’m Jeffrey. Did they give you a name to go with that pretty face?” and she just barely contained a gag/cringe combo before telling him her name. He smiled a bit too wide to be genuine, then said, “Can I order you a drink?” so she said, “I already ordered. And I promised my boyfriend I’d come find him as soon as I got it, so…,” and craned her neck to search for the bartender.

Jeffrey scoffed.“Some boyfriend he is, letting a lady like you wander off by herself.” That made Y/N inhale sharply. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and he’s well aware of that,” she said curtly, silently daring him to say one more stupid thing so she could knock him into next month.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice faltered and his eyes trailed up to someone much taller than her. She didn’t have the chance to turn around before the familiar scent of pine, whiskey, and tobacco filled her nostrils and a pair of lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.

Logan husked out right next to her ear, “Hey, Baby. Thought you were gonna come find me once you got your drink. Dinner’s about to start.” One of his hands slid around to rest against her stomach protectively, so she placed a hand on his arm and said, “I was! It just got busy, I guess. We had the home-front advantage earlier,” trying to pretend like she wasn’t silently losing her mind over what he’d just done and praying to whatever deity existed that he couldn’t smell her body’s reaction to what had just occurred.

She turned her head to look at him, and he smiled at her before nodding his head in Jeffrey’s direction and saying, “Who’s this punk?”

She shot a quick glare at the man in question, then looked back up at Logan. “Just someone who is very lucky you showed up when you did,” she said with a smile before going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The bartender arrived with her drink not a moment too soon, and as she grabbed it, said, “It was nice to meet you, Jeffrey,” and then let Logan lead her back to their designated table, choosing to ignore how Logan looked over his shoulder and snarled at the man as they walked away.

Dinner thankfully went off without any hitches, but since Y/N and Logan were seated next to each other, the constant whiffs she got of Logan's unique (and intoxicating) musk whenever he so much as shifted in his chair were driving her insane. Not to mention the absentminded circles he was drawing on her leg under the table, which he didn’t need to do since nobody could see.

Just as she thought she’d be able to beeline it to somebody’s office or the bathroom or anywhere else to hide, Jean pulled her aside while asking to talk to her in private, making her think a string of expletives that she was well aware Jean could still hear as she allowed herself to be dragged to an unoccupied corner of the ballroom.

Once they were away from listening ears, Jean said, “Okay, what is going on between you and Logan? Yesterday you were threatening to shove him off the roof, and now you two are all over each other! And don’t even try to lie,” while raising a questioning eyebrow. Y/N let out a petulant whine, but Jean shot her a look that Y/N liked to call “The Mom Glare”, so she let out a loud sigh and explained everything, her voice growing more hysterical with every word:

“Okay, I bribed Logan into being my fake boyfriend for the night to keep the creeps away, and I told him to do whatever he needed to do so people would believe it, but I realized that I like what he’s been doing way too much for us to be just friends, and I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jean!”

Jean put her hands on Y/N’s arms to ground her and said, “Whoa, calm down. What exactly has he done that’s got you so worked up?” Y/N let out a mildly panicked laugh, then said, “For starters, if he was within arms reach of me, his hands were on me. He was being super protective of me in front of Tony even though we all know he could snap the Tin Man like a toothpick if he wanted to. He kissed me on the jaw earlier when some sleazeball was hitting on me by the bar, then snarled at him as we walked away. And to top it off, he was drawing circles on my leg under the table at dinner, and I’m not convinced he realized he was doing it, because I did nothing to stop him. Ugh, this is so complicated!”

Jean made a confused face at this. “Why does it have to be complicated? You two clearly have feelings for each other that are more than platonic. And if I may, he agreed to this crazy scheme of yours, didn’t he? At least some part of him feels the same way about you.” This earned another whine from Y/N.

She started rambling, “I don’t want this to change our relationship! I mean, yeah, I’ve had a crush on him for years because I’m not blind, but we’re just friends! And we’ve always been just friends! We bust each other's chops, we affectionately threaten each other with violence, we smuggle contraband into the school for each other even though Charles absolutely knows we’re doing it, so there’s literally no reason for us to be so secretive about it. I can’t just throw that away because I’m in love with him!”

Unfortunately, she didn’t notice Jean’s face pale or her attempts to get her to stop talking until a familiar deep voice said, “You’re in love with me?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she turned around to see Logan standing there with a confused expression on his face. Her stomach clenched, and she said meekly, “How much of that did you hear?” hoping he wouldn’t say what she thought he was going to say, and bracing herself for the worst.

“Everything after ‘complicated’.” Fuck.

A whimper escaped her throat, and she heard Jean scamper off behind her. She sighed and whispered, “Shit,” squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Logan made to move towards her, but Y/N recoiled from him and said, “Don’t!”, before side-stepping him and sprinting out of the ballroom as fast as her wildly impractical attire would allow her, ignoring the concerned calls of her name from her fellow X-Men.

Y/N knew Logan would catch up to her eventually, but for the moment, the only thing on her mind was getting as far away from the ballroom and him as possible. She ended up in the hedge maze, and she fell onto a stone bench to catch her breath, but all too soon she heard Logan yelling her name.

She ignored him, then proceeded to bury her face in her hands and cry due to the sheer irony of the situation: She was hiding in a stupid hedge maze from the only man she’s ever wanted because she can’t bring herself to face him.

Logan rounded the corner a few moments later, and the second he saw her on the bench and heard her sniffling, he knelt before her. “Hey, don’t cry, Sweetheart.” He gently pulled her hands away from her face.

Y/N just shook her head and whispered, “I can’t do this, Logan,” through her tears, making Logan’s eyebrows furrow before he said, “Can’t do what, Darlin’?” and went to wipe her cheek with his thumb, but it was too much for her to take.

Y/N flinched away from his touch and sobbed out, “This! The pet names, the tender touches, you looking at me like that! I can’t go back to just friends after everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t! If you’re gonna let me down, please just let me down gently because it’s the only way I can bear losing you!”

A fresh flood of tears blurred her vision enough that she couldn’t see his face, and she tried to get up to run back to her room or anywhere else where she could lock the door and try to pretend like this whole night was just a bad dream, but Logan’s hands shot out to hold her in place. “Y/N, who said anything about letting anybody down or losing me?”

Y/N startled at the sound of her first name coming out of his mouth, and she blinked back her tears to find him looking at her so tenderly she thought she was going to melt into the grass below her. Logan cupped her face in his hand and said,

“From the day that I met you, I knew I needed to find a way to keep you in my life. For a while, that was by being your friend. But only being your friend isn’t enough for me anymore. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life.” His thumb stroked her cheek comfortingly as he spoke.

Y/N giggled through her tears, and she said, “That’s a long ass time, Wolvie.”

He chuckled back and said, “My point exactly, Doll,” squeezing her knee for emphasis. Y/N looked down at the ground and said, “You’re gonna get grass stains on your pants.”

Logan raised an eyebrow challengingly before bracing his hands on the bench on either side of her and purposely grinding his knees into the grass, pulling a shocked laugh from her. “Logan Howlett!”

He chuckled at her admonishing tone, then leaned in to press his forehead against hers and murmured, “It stopped being pretend for me the moment you came downstairs in this dress,” as he ran a hand down her leg to fiddle with the hem of her dress.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she whispered, “You had me at ‘hey, baby’.” For a moment they just stared at each other, but Logan’s resolve broke when she breathed his name, and he surged forward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss that said everything words couldn’t then.

His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she let him in without hesitation as she gripped the back of his jacket and he held her against his chest like she’d disappear if he let go. Y/N could have stayed in his embrace forever, and Logan could have kept her like that indefinitely.

Unfortunately, humans need oxygen to live, so Y/n pulled her lips away to at least attempt to catch her breath, but Logan had other plans.

He trailed his kisses down her jaw to her neck, and his hand started roaming around her back to find the zipper of her dress, but Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “You better take me on a real date before you try something like that, Howlett.” He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned disappointedly.

Y/N giggled, then said, “As far as I know, the gala doesn’t end for another few hours,” to which Logan leaned back so he was sitting on his heels.

“I think I like where your head's at, Princess,” a smirk crossing his face before he jumped to his feet, scooped her up bridal style, and started jogging back to the mansion, his heart swelling at her squeal of laughter and how her arms tightened around his neck.

Logan set Y/N down outside of the ballroom, then held out his hand and said, “Ready, Darlin’?”

She smiled and said, “Always, Big Guy,” before lacing her fingers with his and walking into the room, where seemingly every Avenger and X-Man was standing and waiting with bated breath.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Logan, who let out a resigned sigh and said, “Ahhhh, fuck it,” before sweeping her into a dip and kissing the life out of her, an eruption of shocked laughter, wolf whistles, and applause coming from the gathering of heroes, making Y/N smile against his lips and cup his face in her hand.

When he pulled his lips away, Logan murmured, “I’m in love with you, too. Didn’t get to say it earlier,” making Y/N snark, “Oh, really? I never would have guessed,” before giggling and reconnecting their lips, Logan chuckling as he held her even closer.

Scott hollered teasingly, “Hey, lovebirds! Mind wrapping it up?! We’ve got places to be!”

Both Logan and Y/N simultaneously flipped him off while they stayed engrossed in each other.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Scott said, making Jean laugh at him. Logan eventually stood Y/N up again, then said, “Hey, Stark, is there any good shit left? I don’t know about you, but I finally got the girl, and I feel like celebrating.” As he spoke, he shot a wink at Y/N solely to make her blush.

Tony said, “Absolutely!” A waiter came over with two glasses of champagne, and even Y/N could tell that it was high-quality stuff just from the smell.

Logan held his glass towards her, then said, “To you and me, Darlin’.” Y/N clinked her glass against his in cheers and said, “You and me, Bubba,” everyone cheering as Logan kissed her temple.

As an avid romance novel reader, she probably should have seen this coming, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about anything else besides the comforting feeling of Logan’s arm around her waist and the knowledge that he was all hers for as long as she wanted him, which was forever.

———————————————————————

MCU Taglist: @libraryofloveletters

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[ruewrote]

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑠.

PAIRING: tdc!gally x fem!reader WARNINGS: gally's death, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: i miss you by adele WORD COUNT: 928 A/N: this was really fast paced but i've had the end part in my mind for weeks now so sorry if its rushed :)

navigation | ask

they could never make you hate him, even after what happened to chuck.

as much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t do it. he had been your best friend, your crush, your rock, your lover. 

it was so good at first, maybe too good to be true, whatever it was it felt right with him. gally was the only thing in the glade keeping you sane, whole.

with thomas grabbing you by your waist, pulling you away from his body. gally giving you a last “it’s okay,” before you were snatched away from him. 

tears streaming down your cheeks as you reached out for him, squirming in thomas’s hold trying to free yourself, as you were both tugged through the exit by others in full combat gear.

you were finally out of the maze, but at what cost?

after his death, you were distant from the others except from newt. he always made sure you were eating and drinking, checking up on you when distanced yourself from everyone.

newt was like a brother to you, having him close helped, but then again what could he do for what only felt like heartache. 

your eyes swollen and puffy as tears rolled down your cheeks, trying to keep your sniffles muffled by the sleeve of your jacket as the others slept.

time heals. well that’s what people used to say, but you think that’s complete utter bullshit because how does this ever get better?

everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, his hand shakily holding the gun in thomas’s direction, his eyes full of tears, the infection spreading across his skin. then bang! jilting yourself out of bed, chest tightening, tears. it was the same cycle every time you slept.

feeling as it was almost selfish, you got to live, you got a chance to try to survive, but here you were here moping. losing winston only added to your heartache.

nearing the last city the sound of angered shouts echoed far, definitely too many for the eight of you to take on, so you got closer to figure out what to do next. 

gently pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front to see what was happening. a hand covered your mouth, muffling you crying out for help. the other around your waist as the person who grabbed you lifted you off the ground.

the others were still ahead of you, not noticing what was happening, until it was too late. out of nowhere mini missiles were getting shot at the ground beside you, making the person who had you fumble, almost letting you go.

another person in a gas mask watched this happen, they started to grab your legs and dragged you towards a truck, if you were gonna go, you were gonna go kicking and screaming all the way.

“get off of her!” newt yelled, dragging the man who had your feet off of you, but another two came up behind him and got him too.

both of you were soon thrown into a beaten down blue truck, leaving you sat side by side, breathing heavily. a certain are you alright? look shared between the two of you before staring down the three armed, masked people in front of you.

the car ride tense and rocky as the vehicle drifted around corners, making you bump shoulders with newt. 

it soon came to an abrupt stop, the doors being pulled open and the two of you nudged out of it. looking around you, you could see an abandoned car park, thomas and brenda, multiple guys with masks.

the sounds of muffled fighting could be heard in the van beside you, then bursts out jumping on the person, jorge punching them.

shouting about where brenda was, but soon stopped when he found her.

“it’s alright, we’re on the same side,” 

thomas stepping closer, pushing you protectively behind him, “who the hell are you?”

after a long pause the unknown leader takes off his mask, “gally?” you mutter in disbelief, peeking out from behind thomas.

his eyes soften at the sight of you, “hey sweetheart,” giving you that familiar smile that you had missed so much. 

it doesn’t take long for you to bound up to him, throwing your arms around his neck, bringing him into a bone crushing hug. he hugged you back even tighter, lifting you off of the ground with ease.

you moved back just enough to look at his face, a soft smile danced over your lips as tears filled your eyes once again, “what the fuck. how is this real?”

“i’ll explain everything inside, c’mon,” he placed you back on the ground, grasping your hand in his own as he signalled the others to follow him.

bonus:

you were now cuddled up in bed with gally. your head on his chest, legs intertwined, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“i never thought we’d have this again,” speaking softly as you looked up at him, “i really thought i lost you.” 

he gazes down at you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “whether you like it or not, i'm not going to give up on you…on us.”

“that’s what i like to hear,” you joke, playfully elbowing his side with your arm, earning a chuckle from him as you cuddled closer to each other.

for the first time in months you’d finally be able to sleep peacefully with him by your side again.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

what do you think is the line between friends and moirails for trolls? I was never sure how to feel about it, it seems so nebulous. also any idea what's with feferi trying to invite kanaya and karkat into the horn pile with her and sollux? like based on the description of moirallegiance that sounds like... infidelity. but it didn't seem like the trolls reacted that way.

What it ultimately comes down to is the fact that Homestuck is a story, and furthermore, one pervaded by things like fate and destiny, which are real and exist within its universe, and therefore, the moirails for each of our trolls has already been decided by destiny (the author).

But also, in a less meta way, the confusion you're feeling likely stems from the fandom misconception that a moirallegiance is just an extra best-friendship, which it is NOT. The stated function of a moirallegiance is to calm each other the fuck down, in order to prevent them from hurting themselves or others. It's this pacifying effect, and not whether or not they hop into piles and talk about feelings, that defines a moirallegiance.

Trolls are a very angry and violent race. Some are more hot-tempered and dangerous than others, to the extent that if left to their own devices, they would present a serious threat to society, or even to themselves. Such trolls will have an instinctive pale attraction to a more even-tempered troll, who may become their MOIRAIL. The moirail is obliged to pacify the other, to function as the better half. The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.

Piles of stuff and feelings jams in them are associated with moirallegiance, but are not "something you only do with your moirail" - like getting coffee or holding hands are associated with dating your matesprit/human romance partner, but not exclusive to them, and, in many cases, not a form of infidelity (although they can be). For what it's worth, Eridan does call Gamzee's horn pile in the middle of the room a "vvulgar display," like Gamzee's chucked porno mags everywhere:

ERIDAN: wwhat a fuckin vvulgar display this is ERIDAN: airin out all his dirty laundry like that puttin a big fuckin pile a horns in the middle of the room ERIDAN: at least i got the upright basic decency to hide my shitty wand pile somewwhere in the lab you wwont find it dont evven bother lookin KARKAT: WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES HAVE PILES OF THINGS, JUST STOP.

So what Feferi's doing with Sollux is less "hey, come cheat with me on Sollux," and more "hey, wanna third wheel our date?"

Moirallegiance is about the "instinctive pull" and the pacification of both partners. Also, moirallegiance is very much romantic. The comic uses the word "platonic," but I think what it means is "chaste" - moirallegiance is not involved in reproduction, so there is no requirement or social expectation for physical intimacy; however, if it weren't a form of romance, it wouldn't exactly be a type of troll romance, would it?

Failed moirallegiances do not have this calming effect: Kanaya doesn't stop (or even really attempt to stop) Vriska from doing her Vriska bullshit at all, and in fact Vriska gets MORE agitated when talking to her:

AG: Ok, so you're spying on me. Kind of creepy! Man, m8y8e you should get a l8fe. AG: Or you know, if you're so h8gh 8nd might8 an8 th8nk you're so gr8at, m8y88 you c8uld oh I d8n't kn8w........ AG: TRY AND ST8P ME FROM DO8NG B8D THINGS????????

The same can be seen with Feferi and Eridan:

CC: Is t)(ere a lucky lady you are waxing scarlet for? CC: OR LUCKY F-ELLOW??? 38O CA: uh CC: Tell me! CC: Don't pretend you're all -EMBARRASS-ED SUDD-ENLY!!! CA: ok fef CA: this is NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS

And with Karkat and Gamzee:

KARKAT: DON'T YOU START WITH ME KARKAT: DO. NOT. START WITH ME. KARKAT: I WILL GET YOU IN A HEADLOCK SO TIGHT IT WILL BE A MIRACLE IF PEOPLE DON'T MISTAKE OUR TUSSLE FOR AN ILL CONCEIVED VENTRILOQUIST ACT. KARKAT: I WILL SHOOSH YOU AGAIN, SO HELP ME GOD. I WILL SHOOSH YOUR CLOWN ASS TO SHANGRI-BULLSHIT-LA AND BACK, AND FILL YOUR EAR WITH MY WHITE HOT PALEBRO SPITTLE. KARKAT: I AM FULL AND FUCKING WELL PREPARED TO GET CONCILIATORY WITH YOU AGAIN IF YOU SO MUCH AS PASS GAS MURDEROUSLY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? KARKAT: IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??? DO I NEED TO CALM YOUR FAYGO-STICKY TENTSQUATTING SHIT DOWN AGAIN???? GAMZEE: naw brother, i was just about to all say for you to try and get your settle down on, maybe. GAMZEE: :o(

And what makes Equius and Nepeta so successful is that Nepeta keeps Equius's tendency towards fury in check, while Equius keeps Nepeta out of harmful situations (although he's maybe doing a bit too much of that and could afford to step back):

EQUIUS: D --> As such, he is prone to being more violent and unpredictable than any of us EQUIUS: D --> Not everyone has been as lucky as I in the domain of moirallegiance

AT: iT'S PROBABLY FOR THE BEST, AT: tHAT YOU LISTEN TO HIM, AC: :33 < i dont know AC: :33 < you think so? AT: wELL, AT: iF YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO HIM BEFORE, AT: yOU MIGHT HAVE PLAYED GAMES WITH US BEFORE, AT: aND SOMETHING BAD MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED TO YOU,

And Feferi and Sollux work because Sollux is prone to excessive self-loathing, which, mixed with his mage powers of prophesying/invoking the future, make for a cocktail of potential harm to himself and others. Talking with her keeps his head above the water (heh) and forcibly prevents him from wallowing in self-loathing:

SOLLUX: anyway, yeah, now that aa ii2 gone forever ii feel more depre22ed and u2ele22 than u2ual, and ii wa2 already pretty cod damn u2ele22 two begiin wiith, let'2 face iit. FEFERI: But I )(ave it on good aut)(ority t)(at s)(e is fine! FEFERI: Everyt)(ing is going to go swimmingly, YOU'LL S-E-E. 38) SOLLUX: you are 2o riidiiculou2ly optiimii2tiic iit'2 kiind of 2iickeniing, why do you even put up wiith me? SOLLUX: iif you weren't 2o great ii would thiink you were a fuckiing iidiiot for liikiing me. SOLLUX: 2o, ii gue22 thank2 for liikiing me?

But even though these moirallegiances are ultimately doomed, there is some amount of pacification going on, making it difficult for the trolls to tell in the moment whether or not their pale relationship is true (Karkat does manage to stop Gamzee from murdering people, for example, but fails to address his religious beliefs and underlying trauma, whereas Gamzee can't calm Karkat down at all, so they end up drifting apart after the initial Major Problem has been settled).

The fact that it's a blurry line even for trolls is explicitly stated:

It's often ambiguous especially among young trolls whether a bond formed between an acquaintance is true moirallegence, or the usual variety of platonic involvement. Furthermore, romantic intentions of a more flushed nature can often be mistaken for paler leanings, much to the frustration of the suitor.

So this is kind of by design - part of adolescence, keeping in line with Homestuck's coming-of-age themes, is the messy romance. If it were easy to piece together, it wouldn't be true to life.

HOWEVER, that all being said, special notice does have to be taken of the way moirallegiance - moreso than even the other three quadrants - has an air of DESTINY about it. Trolls believe that every troll has one destined partner for every quadrant:

But if there was one theme to be hammered through his thick skull, it would be the trolls' cultural preoccupation with romantic destiny. Yes, the romantic landscape is rife with false starts and miscues and infidelities, red and black. But every troll believes strongly that each quadrant holds one and only one true pairing for them, and it is just a matter of time before the grid is filled with auspicious matchups through the mysterious channels of TROLL SERENDIPITY. In short, their belief is that for each quadrant there exists a pair or triad of trolls somewhere in the cosmos that were…

MADE FOR EACH OTHER.

So there's already a setup in this comic, which is so rife with prophecy and foreshadowing, that every troll is eventually going to end up with their true love/true hate - but even out of the four quadrants, moirallegiance is given special weight: first of all, it is the only quadrant that is literally translated as "soul mates":

This quadrant presides over MOIRALLEGIENCE, the other conciliatory relationship. A reasonable human translation would be the concept of a soul mate, but in a more platonic sense, and with a more specific social purpose.

And second, it's called "mysterious" or "magical," even in direct comparison to black/red:

CG: AND ALL THE NUANCES OF PITY MANIFEST AS VARIOUS OTHER KINDS OF FEELINGS LIKE WHATEVER CHEMICAL REACTIONS TRIGGER MATING FONDESS OR THE MYSTERIOUS FORCES THAT ARE BEHIND MOIRALLEGIANCE.

You then proceed to have the rest of this conversation we already read, bugging and fussing and meddling through the special and magical union one can only describe as being in moirallegiance with another. At least, you guess that's how you would describe it. Maybe. Troll romance sure is confusing!

And we can't forget:

Such trolls will have an instinctive pale attraction to a more even-tempered troll

Which lends to the idea that there's a biological compulsion towards needing a moirail, same as how there's a biological draw towards finding reproductive partner(s).

But this is why I always tend to use "destined for" when discussing moirail pairs, and also why I focus specifically on which individuals calm other individuals the fuck down - like how Gamzee says he "feel[s] so at chill with" Tavros, or how Karkat goes from completely losing his shit to "yeah, so that's it i guess" after talking to Eridan.

[catsfor2]

hit me, part 3

wc: 2k, unedited warnings: swearing, injury tags:@pampeop@evangelinejxy@itwasnight@@elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm@dragonasflowercrown@starpix@nopealoupe@annamommyy@muthafuckingstargirl a/n: i rly wanted this to be so much longer but i think im a little burnt out rn im sorry guys! either way i hope u enjoy this part, its still fun i think!!

-j

part 1

part 1.5

part 2

part 2.5

"Are you—un-fucking-believable," Ellie spits, hand raking through her hair and chucking her phone to the floor. "They're taking my fucking money. My fucking money."

"What? What's happening?" you ask, now watching from your bed as she paces back an forth across your rug.

"They're lowering my fucking cut. Fucking—Jesus, these fucking dicks. I don't know what to do." she says, bending down to pick her phone back up.

"Why would they do that? Is there a...reason, at least?"

"I—shit, probably? They didn't say exactly. Just said it was a 'reputation issue'. Whatever that fucking means." Ellie sighs. She sits back down on the bed. She then speaks again, but quieter.

"They're just mad I don't wanna be their fuckin' show monkey. I shut that bullshit down right away."

"...What do you mean?" you ask.

"They wanted to...basically brand me as the 'club dyke'. Wanted the announcer to say like, all this weird shit when I got up to the ring. Wanted to name a fuckin' drink after me. It was called, like, 'Lady Lover's Special' or something fuckin' stupid like that. I told em' no."

"Oh—well I'm glad you said no. That's...fucked up, of them." you tell her, eyes focused on hers.

"I know. But I—" her phone pings, and she must know just by the sound who it is, as she picks it up to check the message immediately.

Her face pinches, eyes darting across the screen as she reads.

"They're saying—they're saying if I do this fight...tonight, then they...won't lower it. Huh." She finishes, eyes scanning the words a couple more times.

"That seems...manipulative. I feel like they just wanted you to do this fight the whole time." you say skeptically.

"Yeah, obviously. They're fucking snakes. Stupid ones, though." She says, bouncing up off your bed and pulling her coat around herself. "I'm gonna do the fight."

"What—seriously? They basically forced you!" you argue, reaching upwards and pulling back on her sleeve.

She exhales a long breath, before taking your hand and placing it back on the bed. Her face moves close to yours, gently and kindly.

"I need the money, ok? And—" she pauses, eyes lighting up like she just remembered something. Her lips break into a subtle smile. "you'll be there, won't you? I'm in good hands."

You turn your head, cheeks heating, and try to remain impartial.

"Ellie, you don't even...know who you're fighting. That by itself is a—a monumental-sized risk."

"It doesn't matter who I'm fighting, princess." She assures, both hands now cradling at the base of your neck. Her voice gets low and calm next to your ear.

"I'm fuckin' undefeated. It's gonna stay that way."

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

Seeing Ellie fight was...intense. Her body is wicked, a cord of muscle that rips through the ring. She's springy. A curated whip of strength, and far more resilient than you thought would be humanly possible. It was difficult to follow her movements, her jabs, cuts, kicks, and everything else, as they were done with impeccable speed.

And yet, through the chaos of this combat, you remember distinctly how her eyes would meet yours, finding you amidst the crowd. Talking to you wordlessly. Reassuring you. Before she'd enter the fight once again, deftly averting her gaze from yours and body thrusting itself strategically into battle. She was a predator, simply put. And you saw the brutal effects of it once the fight was over.

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

"I'm still—fuck—still—ow, fuck—"

"Ellie. Stop moving." you chide, hands having to maneuver her head straight again.

"Undef—I'm undefeated. Number one. I'm—mmph—number one. I'm still one." she hazily mutters, head lolling to one side.

"Shut up! I can't do this when you keep talking!" you exclaim, hands frantically dressing the wound across her cheek.

Her body keeps moving, jerking, pushing, and you physically just aren't strong enough to counter it. Her hands have found their place on your shoulders, clutching them as her own stability varies wildly.

"They said...they were gonna—ow, ow! fuck—they were—they couldn't even—" she rambles, fingers tightening their grip.

"Ellie. Stay still. And calm down." you bark, hips inching closer between her thighs. She's sat atop the dingy counter of the club bathroom, while you stand tucked under her figure.

A warm, bellied laugh escapes her before she plops her head into your neck without warning.

"Mmmm okay, princess. I'll be—I'm—I'm still. I'm still. M'sorry doc." She whispers, breath fanning your skin lightly.

"No, no, no, pick your head up. You have to stay awake."

"But I'm—I'm tired. And—" she drags her nose a bit, trailing bits of blood and sweat. "you smell so good here." she murmurs fuzzily, hands slowly traveling down towards your waist.

You quickly wipe your neck with the back of your hand, pushing Ellie's head back upright.

"I'm gonna try and do this as fast as I can, okay?" you say, starting to fumble with the packaging of your needle. Ellie's hands were still groping around the back of your body through your clothes.

"You were—you wore this. At Dina's party," she breathes, not even noticing your hands preparing the suture. Her eyes are unabashedly gazing at your chest. "that was a goooood party." she adds, smiling to herself.

Your skin burns, and you feel your eyes desperately avoiding hers.

Your focus moves back to her forehead, where your hands have moved to hover steadily over her wound.

"This is gonna hurt Ellie. But you can't move." you say quietly, waiting for her response.

She closes her eyes, just taking in shaky breaths for few moments.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus do it already."

With that, you start to stitch up her cut, fingers nimble and tedious.

She groans at the pain, hands fisting in the fabric of your clothes, and legs jerking inwards. You let her, simply continuing your motions as her body reacts.

"Ow—Christ, princess, that fucking—fuck!"

"I know, I know. I'm almost done. Like, two more stitches." you rush, eyes starting to water and wrists starting cramp. Ellie only huffs a sigh, forehead slippery from sweat.

Your mouth parts open as you delicately tie off your last suture, hands now clammy and sore. You step back to look at your work, honestly not caring if it was mediocre. It was still better than anything Ellie would've tried to do by herself.

"Ok! Ok! All done!" You breathe, placing a square of gauze on her temple.

"Oh—thank you. Thank you princess. I'm—you're...you're really good." she drawls out, eyes heavy and dazed.

She abruptly slumps forward a bit, leaning all of her weight onto you and wrapping the whole of her arms around your waist. She squeezes even harder, a level of strength almost abnormal considering how beat up she is.

Oh, you think. She's hugging me.

You can't help but lightly giggle, seeing Ellie in such a strange state of mind. Her ego shines through, of course, but there's a vulnerability that makes you feel even warmer. You start to feel the vibrations of her throat as she speaks.

"I think I—I think I fight better...with you here." she says softly, fingertips pressed into the small of your back.

"Yeah?" you laugh. "I don't know about that..."

"You're the only one who's—who's actually wanted to see me. I know about that." she retorts, hot breaths coming briskly at your neck.

"But I thought like—Dina and everyone, they know, don't they?"

"Mhmm. They know. But they don't come here. Not—not like you did." she says lowly.

You move back, a little too warm, and try to look Ellie in the eyes.

"I...didn't know that. I'm glad I was here though." you say, a small smile shaping your lips.

"Yeah, I mean—me too, obviously. I can—man, I can always count on you. I can't believe I fuckin'...forgot about that." she mumbles, grin slowly widening.

Your eyes open larger, and you freeze a touch, her words recalling a part of your friendship you didn't know she had noticed.

In highschool, all you'd ever wanted to do was make Ellie like you. You'd let her rant all her fiery anger over a fight with Cat, remaining polite and helpful and understanding. You'd listen to the songs she'd listen to, hate the ones she didn't. She'd tell you her theories about the stars, and you'd let it change the way you see the sky at night. You were a lost puppy, unintentionally giving Ellie your leash. You didn't realize any of it until years later.

"I was..." you look around, searching for the right words. "I was kind of obsessed. In highschool."

She looks up, eyebrows pinching.

"With me?"

"I—yes? You couldn't tell?"

She scoffs, face dramatically contorting in shock.

"Fuck—no, I couldn't. You were always...texting that...guy."

"And I broke up with him. Because of you." you say, color rushing across your cheeks.

Ellie blinks, eyes wide, just staring. Her mouth opens, and closes, before she finally starts saying words again.

"But didn't—hold on. Did I...turn you gay?"

You roll your eyes, mouth flattening.

"I don't think that's how it works. But you probably...made it happen faster, I guess." you say, voice trailing off towards the end.

She stays silent, lips pressed in thought. The hands around your waist, which hadn't moved in while, start to fidget and tense in their place.

"You know what? I see it. It actually—it makes a lot of sense."

"...Yeah?" you question, head shifted away from her gaze.

"Like—the way you'd always freeze up if I tried to draw you. Or all that...shit you'd try and say about Cat. You were just—super jealous, weren't you?" she laughs, pulling you closer.

Ellie seems to have regained her consciousness fully, you notice, the lively color of her face having returned as well.

"I—not super, just a...normal amount." you mutter.

"It's okay, princess. I think it's—cute. Little you, all fed up. Just wanted me so bad, huh?"

"No. I barely knew more than you did. I was mostly just confused." you protest. "Can you stand? I'd like to leave this nasty bathroom."

"Yeah, I'm good." she says, hoisting herself off of the counter.

Her arm snakes around your shoulder, using your body to lean against.

"I'm staying with you tonight. If you have a concussion I can't let you fall asleep." you tell her, almost overwhelmed with her smell so close to your face.

"Oh—shit." she blurts. "My place is a fuckin' mess right now."

As it turned out, Ellie was not lying.

Her place, a grungy apartment just on the edge of town, was a wreck. Clothes, garbage, various envelopes and papers scattered the floor. Her kitchen was bare, neat and dusty from the lack of use. You wondered how many people had actually seen her place.

You let her walk you both to the couch, before she plops herself down onto it with a hefty sigh. She sits for a moment before looking up at you, gesturing to the cushion next to herself.

"Well? You gonna sit?" she asks.

You don't respond, simply let yourself fall into the seat, Ellie's arm already sprawled out and waiting for you. She yawns loudly before turning to you.

"I really can't fuckin' sleep?"

"I mean..." you bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating. "you probably don't have one? So...you can sleep. I might just wake you up once to check on your symptoms."

She groans comfortably, spreading out on the couch and kicking her legs forward. Her arm tightens around you, shuffling you into her side. She grabs a blanket from behind her, straightens it out, and throws it over the both of you.

The layer feels nice, warm and heavy, and you find yourself feeling more exhausted as the minutes tick by. You lay your head upon Ellie's chest, memorizing the sounds of her heart. Her voice resonates lowly as she speaks.

"...Did you actually like being there?" she asks you, tone uncertain and quiet. "I don't blame you if it's too much to watch."

"No I—I did like it. Honestly. It was hard not to look away." you assure her, softly breathing across her shirt.

"Ok. Good. I wanted to make sure. I...I really want you there again next week."

"I will be then." you say, eyes casting a glance up to meet her own.

She had already been staring.

"Goodnight, y/n." Ellie murmurs, her focus on you not breaking for a second.

"Yeah, goodnight." you say, forcing your eyes shut and melting into the heat of Ellie's body.

[mossyivy]

This thought just came to my head and I couldn’t help but giggle.

Imagine Chris invites Leon over to watch football on Sundays, and have a bomb ass barbecue of course; like all dads do on the weekends. But you didn’t really mind, it meant the kids would get off your back for a few hours and you could gossip with Chris’s wife.

The two of them would totally be standing by the grill, bud lights in their hands as they watched the TV outside on the patio, yelling at the players like they could hear them.

They’d hit that signature dad pose. Legs slightly spread apart, standing, arms crossed, you know which one I’m talking about.

Also they’d literally compliment each other on their barbecue and stuff. They’d spend hours just trying to smoke a brisket or something, having the typical bro talk while doing it.

- Anon! 🎀

(Chris looks like a Giants fan. No I will not be elaborating further.)

Literally can't decide which apron Chris would be wearing so here's all the options

With the middle one he'd definitely pat his wife's ass every time she walked by. She'd just stop and stare for a second and he'd point to the apron. She'd just nod and keep walking, use to his bullshit by now.

The wives would be talking about bitchy moms at the PTA as the kids play on the Redfield's giant playset. (Like think about a McDonald's play place and old chuck e. cheese playgrounds together. Just minus the child vomit and mildew smell). They're drinking wine, talking among themselves when they overhear their husbands talking.

"She's a beauty! Doesn't throw fits. Let's me do whatever I need to and I don't even need to put in much effort." You two life your heads, listening to Chris until Leon speaks up.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Street corner!" Chris's wife stands up, about to walk over until Leon's wife grabs her arm and forces her back in the seat.

"Some guy was moving and selling the old girl so I scooped her up and brought her home."

He's talking about the fucking grill...

Chris's wife sighs in relief. Feeling her heart return to her body as she chugs the rest of her wine. She was fully ready to knock some sense into that man...

Eventually Lulu walks over and wants to help her dad cook. He'd grab her little apron and make her stand by the side of the grill on a chair and hand his cheese slices for the burgers. Her apron:

To which Leon looks at Violet and asks her why she doesn't help him grill at home while she's getting one of the barrel juices from the kids cooler.

"You gonna pay me daddy?" He's stunned for a second and stares at her.

"What? Why would I pay you?"

"I was told to never do a job for a man who didn't pay me what I deserved."

"Who told you that?"

"Mommy." Leon looks up at his wife who's sipping her wine. Daring him to say a word. He just ruffles Violets he hair up.

"Good advice. Go play." His wife nods, going back to her conversation while Violet runs off.

I'd imagine the game would be a massive deal to the both of them. Like it's their teams against each other and they have a bet going. The game goes into overtime and eventually Leon's team wins and he's so excited he goes to cheer but sees his two girls are out like a light inside the living room of the house so he just tries keeping in his excitement so the kids can sleep until they finish packing up to go home.

[moonsceptre]

do you think bretlejuice loved lydia in the first movie or it was to get into the human world?

It was debunked in the second movie that his reasoning was exclusively to become mortal, so I don't know why people still believe that.

Jeremy knows the process of swapping places with a mortal and he tries to trick Astrid into doing it. This did not require marriage. If Betelgeuse wanted to trap Lydia, he would have offered her a place in the afterlife just as Jeremy did. Lydia wanted to die so it's not like it would have been a difficult task to convince her, yet he asked her "why?" bewildered that she actually wanted to be dead, and made up some bullshit that he needed marriage to be free.

Marriage between the dead and the living seems to be a mutual agreement to traverse both realms together, which contextually makes sense for Betelgeuse and Lydia because neither of them want to be alone anymore. Why would Betelgeuse even want to become human again? He has timewarping powers and can levitate.. throwing all of that away would not benefit him. Marrying Lydia was killing two birds with one stone: remain with the love of his life forever, and travel between life and death together. This is what happens in the cartoon, too.

1st Movie

• Betelgeuse had time to silently study Lydia, as Juno told the Maitlands off for not putting him away. Juno had to summon a brothel just to distract him from Lydia.

• "I don't want to do business with you deadbeats anyway, thank you. The only one I think I can deal with is Edgar Allan Poe's daughter. She understands me."

• "We've come for your daughter, Chuck."

His intentions are told to your face. Falling in love didn't just randomly happen off screen. Maybe this is my assumption but I get the impression the shippers who insist he wasn't interested in the first movie are just puritans who want Beej to be a perfect sweetheart who does no wrong lol.

And this?

From the 1990 sequel's scrapped script, there's a few things that are total nonsense and a few things that have remained canon.

Betelgeuse takes a polaroid picture of Lydia out of his pocket several times. He looks at it constantly while they're separated. I believe this was going to be a recurring motif where Betelgeuse was so besotted by her that he kept her picture on him at all times.

When Betelgeuse is trying to persuade Lydia, you can see he has a polaroid tucked away in his robe.

Who else would it be other than Lydia?

...Sorry, I waffled so much on this answer. @_@

[skywerse]

AVA FERIN MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS IN GENERAL

HEAR ME OUT, READ BELOW THE CUT AND TELL ME IF IT'S SOMETHING OR IF I'M SIMPLY LOOSING MY SHIT OVER NOTHING... BECAUSE IT MAKES SENSE TO ME—

Fey Ferin wants R.A.F.T to seize control over the world, and there's nothing that can stand in her way, not even her own family.

There might have been a time when Jayson Ferin was a good man. Based on what May says about him and glimpses we get from Jay's early memories (I recall one with the pin), it appears he once was. Perhaps Jayson desired change for the navy too, but that would be such a pain for Fey to deal with. So, she seems to have brainwashed him for months, possibly years by now (ep 79, Gilly detects corruption in him mixed with good energy), molding him into the perfect soldier who doesn't question orders and neglects his family for the sake of helping his mother to carry out this great fucking world domination plan.

Fey likely harbors resentment towards Drey for not being obedient like his brother, opting for a pirate's life over being loyal to his family and their ideals. Yet, Fey can't bring herself to kill him, so she puts him in a top security prison to let him rot instead.

Ava was the ideal soldier—strong, brave, and revered by all. However, for Fey, Ava's kindness, compassion, and desire for change is simply another pain to deal with. But of course, she would not kill her own family. And she couldn't let her just vanish either.

Perhaps Fey suspected that Ava had a soft spot for pirates, given her upbringing in Eagle's Den and being raised by such a softhearted daughter-in-law. But perhaps, on one occasion, someone witnessed Ava together with a pirate, and somehow that information reached Fey. And after learning that her granddaughter, her esteemed captain, had feelings for a pirate from the crew of the last remaining pirate lord she aimed to get rid of, Fey simply couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

Maybe Ava cooperated willingly, fought like hell, or simply was faced with a deal she couldn't refuse. R.A.F.T. wouldn't just eliminate their top captain, such a vital asset for the upcoming war. Instead, they created a doppelgänger, and chucked the real Ava into some top-notch secret confinement. Letting the dopple to become their pawn. A perfect martyred hero to be killed by those bad bad pirates. A perfect excuse to wage a war over.

But the doppelgängers aren't perfect. So when Lizzie tells Ava about a pirate who is like a father to her, Ava doesn't remember. And when Lizzie begs her not to fight, Ava doesn't listen because she doesn't remember the numerous times they sneaked out together to simply talk like normal people do. And when there's an order to shoot, Ava doesn't move away, as she remembers she was only created to destroy and to be destroyed.

Would Jayson know? Probably not. His hatered toward the pirates responsible for his daughter's death would likely fuel his brainwashed self even more. Very convenient for the long run.

Fey might permit her youngest granddaughter to infiltrate the pirates, banking on her own hatered over her sister's death to maybe one day make her an even better soldier than Ava ever was.

But maybe Fey was wrong.

And she knows it when she receives news of her son's escape from prison, and when her other son suddenly takes leave, or perhaps when a navy base on the Black Sea is breached.

So, when her promising soldier begins to rebel, it might be time to reveal the secret that she's been keping. Maybe it will help her granddaughter decide which side to choose in the end.

me rn:

But idk, that's just my speculation. If it turns out to be a load of bullshit you can point and laugh, but at this point it makes so much sense in that smooth brain of mine as I'm writing this at 7am after getting no sleep whatsoever.

ALSO, just something fun to think over:

In the rolled for 114, Grizz mentioned that the doppel/brainwashing machine had buttons with dates on them. And if pressed, it would display the people who had previously used it. I can't help but wonder if my theory about Ava is true if she might have showed up there. Or maybe it could have shown Jayson getting his fucking brain blasted. BUT WELP, someone rolled like shit (pointsatgillionpointsatgillion) and we'll never know now—