#the vibes are off i feel like this is not the bottom of the pit

[eybefioro]

There's so many things happening for me this month. So. Many. Things.

Big test to try to get a more stable job. Pressing deadlines at work that weren't there before. Presentation of my project. Chapter of my research. Books and thesis to read for uni. Visits on archives. My fucking birthday which will be uncomfortable in some ways. Submit a paper for a publication.

I'm falling apart at the seams yall LMAO the only thing keeping any scrap of my sanity are fanfictions my personal projects, which I'm dedicating way more time than I provably should

[sweetpascal]

" someplace nice "

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”

that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.

you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.

“so.. how do i look?”

he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.

“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.

“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.

“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.

dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.

“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.

during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.

breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.

“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”

“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.

the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.

your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.

“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.

“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.

immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.

“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”

when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.

“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.

“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”

he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”

and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.

“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.

“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”

almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.

“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”

his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.

“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.

simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.

“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”

your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.

“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.

“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.

simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.

“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.

and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.

“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.

heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”

at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.

“now, lets get you home.”

[getodrools]

your toji really does something to me. the big mean gruff guy that he is, not even caring if you turn to a whiny mess is just top-tier. i was wondering what's your take when possessive-ish (and slightly insecure) bf toji found out you're using sex toys (dildos, vibes and suckers) whenever he's not around ;p thank u sm and i hope u have a wonderful day ahead <333

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ ohhgossh i’m glad it does winkwink honestly, any possessive but insecure asshole like toji is HARD on the mind omffghh especially as big as he isss makes it so scarily hot (¬////¬)… newaays ! i hope you have sparkles n’ only sunshine today ml ! ! thankuu <3

꒰ ୨ NEVER BETTER! ୧ ◞ T. FUSHIGURO ꒱

ᡣ𐭩 warnings. mdni | f! reader | pwp, usage of dildos + vibrators on reader, anal !!!!, overstimulation, masturbation ( reader ), size difference, degrading, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, tongue pulling, finger sucking, no prep ish, creampie, humiliation. ( wc. 2.6k+ )

TOJI IS ALL MORE than just confident that your needs are beyond filled – especially how heavily you sleep when he's getting ready for work; the way you sprawl out so peacefully with a soothed face from the night before… A night of stuffing and tight, burly positions that folded you into two.

Practically glowing!

He admires the way you drift off, pecking right at that pretty head he knows is lost in dreams right before he steps out…

Confident he did damn good fucking you...

But the way you — now, nibble at your bottom lip from the pressure of a pink dick squeezing past tight walls, he'd think you wouldn't be moaning just as loud as you would with his real pink dick!

. . .

“Does this mean something?” Your heart not only throbs as hard as your clit does, but the mix of covert ecstasy and shock does not settle well in the pit of your tummy.

Your eyes snap wide towards a particular man sauntering against the bedroom doors frame — forgetting today was only a meeting, not his usual dozen missions that takes hours beyond… And now as your eyes tremble, watching each other again a lot earlier than you had expected, clearly, you try hard to muster something up.

“Toji! I… I was just—” You fumble.

The irritant rumble was deep in his throat as he parted his lips before you could embarrass yourself some more, “What're you now… some cockhungry whore?” The way his voice had dropped more than just an octave had you coward; legs tweezing back together to slowly pop the toy out as if he couldn't already see the puddle seeping in the sheets…

“No no, keep that in you since you seem to be so needy.” His shock was just as pounding. But the blank slate ridden across his face seemed to be more of shame, even his posture was stiff. Almost like the thick poll hard in his confines, but the way he crossed his arms over their stacked muscles was threatening.

Was he warning you?

Don't say anything dumb, “… I missed you…”

“Really? Or do you miss having something in you, huh?” He sounds more repentant than angry, “‘Cause… that, is nothing like me.” His finger waves around in a circle.

The shroud of his features hardened like clay above his feelings. Though you never caught sight of them much, you can tell he was… off about this. Not knowing exactly how to feel, seeing his pretty girl stuff herself with a fake dick when he's only one call away made his chest ache with a broken ego… His eyes grew darker – like jungle trees in rain, not the evergreens you always admired and it made you tremble.

But in the moment, your legs opened back up as shame was swallowing you whole. Listening in faint hope he'd spare a sort of mercy…

His shoes click.

One, two, three steps he was already filling up the bed and was reaching for your legs.

Slapping them apart, too slow for what he'd asked for, “Do you need every hole stuffed? Is that what I made you out to be? Hm?” Toji tries to play it off, watching how it began to slip out from the pressure of your tight, slippery walls.

It was a bit smaller in length, and of course, the bright pink was far off from his usual tanned base and flushed tip. Other than that, the veins and girth seemed to fill you just right how he does…

Toji clicks his tongue, “This thing really makes you feel good… too?” Your eyes shake, too embarrassed now.

You nod your head, “But it's nothing compared to you…”

“Oh, I know.” But gazing at the wet slop your pussy gushes out with still, even teased by just a flimsy — dumb toy… he was feeling otherwise.

His palm tracks up your foot and to your thigh, traveling between the sweet heat of your legs ‘till he reached the suction part of the dildo. You wince soon as the toy plunged back up, filling your pussy with ease as Toji carefully watches your reactions.

Just the same. Damn.

“Toji... I promise…” Your knees clink together, but his body forcing them apart denied your retreat.

“Tch, I know that thing doesn't make you feel that good. You're just bored.” He soothes himself and ignores the other buzzing toy laid next to you too, for now…

Maybe his tongue may not work as fast as those crafts, or maybe his dick may not have multiple functions that could whirl and vibrate but he damn well was not about to be outclassed like this. Outclassed by something fake!

He had to prove a point.

He's a real man, and those are just frauds.

You didn't keep track, but his pants had already been tossed somewhere followed by his shirt.

Nibbling at your bottom lip, “You're always busy…” and his own parts, “And?”

And? Your brows hook in, “I can't just call you when you're in the middle of business...”

“Ah, making excuses now? It's o.k that you're a needy cock thirsty slut–– no need to deny it.” Toji smacks his lips, dismay was written all over him, “So, I’ll give you exactly what you seem to want so badly, ‘n maybe, that'll calm your rabbit ass down.” He was just jabbing at you left and right, it was a roller coaster of humiliation and twisted pleasure.

Your head falls back, groaning into the palms of your hands as the man fell to your body – his cock now off its leash and clanging between his thighs like a church bell. Feeling him rub closer to you, your pussy oozes and clenches around the thick rubber lodged up in you, creating a mess of goo to slime down the crack of your ass.

It was enough muck and glisten to shine his bulbous pearl; smearing the hard cap around the stream – teasing you. Teasing that perk hole that was still too tight to stick a measly finger in, a hole that was left untouched and clearly wasn't plugged up – clearly how you desperately so needed to be…

“I'll make sure your nice n’ stuffed, baby, that's what you want, right? Heh.” And with that followed by a grunt, your eyes snap wide and knock back. Toji held at your waist with a tight hold, keeping you down as you twisted in sodden bliss.

Gasping, “Toji!” and drawing out the syllables with a loud hiss. Your moans trailed off in a low whisper of pure adoration, “Ohmygod.” Your little rim hole formed an inviting seal, and you were set right against the base in a swift thrust. Aching at the long, throbbing mast - your ass squished down on his hardness with enough pressure to keep him practically trapped. He winced too as he watched with wide eyes when his strong pelvis knocked into the dildo... Forcing the toy to ram further up into you in reverential lust.

Oh. Fuck.

Two dicks? One man? His thoughts light up, a wry smirk now plastered wide. Maybe… he did like this… His hand had left a deep mark in your thighs, catching it soon as he reached for the whirling pink, strawberry-sized replacement beside you.

“Huh, this thing goes fast.” Still lodged in you, he was inspecting it and you were inspecting him. Cursing beneath your breath, he was trying to bully you out of his own damn insecurityes!

A big man with a broken ego is not a good mix.

Toji presses the vibrator right against your puffy clit, making tenfold of the pleasure throbbing up your brain. It was like your function to speak was fully cut off; all points of sensitive bits were being toyed with ‘till they bulged out in aching bliss. Your clit was already puffy as is, the session he caught now becoming more swollen as he crushed that toy between your bundle of nerves, pussy stretched wide with another toy as your perk hole was being rammed with a mean man's cock…

Your mouth seemed full with moans, but looked empty in his eyes, “Don't you start whinnin', thought you wanted to be all plugged up?” His hand is rough against your face, squeezing the fat in your cheeks until your lips sucked in his fingers; one, two, and three hooked down your throat.

“Or is this too much? Can't handle what you thought you could?” Bullying your poor holes, he lets out a hearty chuckle, “You ain't no big girl.” Those tears of pleasure lusting down your ridden cheeks and shinning down his forearm sure did express that.

Toji did not expect to go this far. But watching how you gagged around every inch of him hiked something up his spine. A sort of sick pang. And it made his cock grow an inch harder, throbbing deeper up your perk little hole, nearly worming up to your guts…

Toji was quick with his motions; hips jackhammering a cruel rhythm into your ass, and at each killing strike, the silicone cock slid back and forth. The tight pressure of your wet pussy slid it out only for his working hips to ram it back in all in sync. All walls, gummy and soft, rubbing around thick slabs of hard meat, fake or not, your mouth still drooled between his digits like so.

Moans bubbled into spit; purely messy and sticky all around. Just filthy.

“You really are a cock whore.” His brows raise, catching how you twitched beneath him.

Your high was itching close, feeling it rock in your core as soon as Toji’s hips bucked widely. But Toji knew that face, even though half was being squeezed into his palm, he saw that very shine he so adored.

You whine out; your tongue was pinched between his pointer and thumb, “I don't think so.” His body stills, yet yours spasms in wanton need.

You wanted to scream his name, but the mean clip at the point of your tongue only slobbed out a mess when you tried. Defeated. You can't win against him! When he wants to prove a point, you will get the point, and it was aching soon as you recognized this deal.

“I'm still upset with you.”

Asshole.

Your legs fall from the sky. Limp and full – as much as you had thought you could be… Toji only played fair with himself, letting his own high rock out from his tight orbs throbbing up ‘till they released from the pent pressure.

Lodged in your ass, it was warmer than usual. You could feel how his cock throbbed powerfully, swelling and pushing aside the fleshy walls surrounding him, and he was undone with a quick sodden push. He grunted loud and kept his hooded eyes locked with yours needy doe ones – teasing you, bullying you.

As he shoved his hips up, he made sure you felt him and the first jet of cum spiraled upwards like a geyser, splattering a full can of white paint across. Your perk hole clenched from the sticky ropes of cum slathering deep – no way it'd bubble out the way his hips clamped into yours. Even the rubbery dick stuck in your pussy was deeper than you could imagine.

Another rope ran out his turgid cock, still working a rhythm that could churn it thickly inside of you… Doused in white gunk, the glowing man stilled. Keeping you plugged up, Toji tilts his head and eyes you up and down, admiring the beads of sweat rolling across those pretty peaked mountains of flesh.

“Needa get something for those tits next time. Or was that enough for a while–– Satisfied now?” He snorts and you snort back up the snot threatening to glob down your chin… more than satisfied. It was a damn new world you just explored and you couldn't help but imagine what's on the other side. Hoping you'd get to cum all over him, if he'd play nice…

He sighs catching that sick flicker in your eyes but leans close to your shivering frame that's all more than ready to give out if you dared…

<– BACK: PINNED ꪆৎ NEXT: MORE TOJI –>

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

the art of breaking part one | part two

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare 

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

I. in media res

     -the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

     -intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

     -fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

     -avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

     -broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

     -kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

[wtftarot]

PAC: What are the truths you need to face

Another thanks to @lifeofaie for suggesting this pac. If you've got a pac idea feel free to send it to my inbox!

This one can be a little bit of a call-out, but I mean, it is a reading on what truths you need to face.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Sword, the Cat or the Stars and head on to your reading

The Sword

This group is kinda heavy, please be gentle on yourself.

The High Priestess, Four/Cups, The Tower, and the Seven/Wands on the bottom of the deck.

So, y'all kinda already know what truths you need to face. The problem is you're fighting them off. Y'all may be asking spirit or your guides a lot of questions that you already know the answers to. I'm hearing 'where there's smoke there's fire". With the Tower here, there's one truth in particular that you know that if you let yourself look at it head-on, things will have to change. It could even be painful to look at it head-on, (if it is please have some support when you choose to face it) It's like, all the signs are there but you're still iffy on it. This could be a person who you've started to notice the red flags or a situation that you know is bad but you won't let yourself really focus on just how bad. A few of you I'm getting, keep reading romance/ what are they thinking PACs for a person that you know isn't treating you right and maybe ignoring when the readings tell you that. I'm not trying to be harsh or call anyone out. I don't think any of the truths this group is facing are easy, little ones. I'm actually hearing the word "catastrophic". I know how scary it is to face something that you know will hurt. Cause part of it is admitting that it hurt and actually letting yourself feel that hurt instead of pretending it's not there. You are so brave and so so fucking strong and you will get through this. The advice for you is this be gentle on yourself and fucking tough on the situation. This will be hard and you want to give yourself time and space to rest and rebuild your strength. Then kick its fucking ASS. Bad shitty work/living situation? Setting boundaries with a shitty fucking person? Digging yourself out of a mental health pit? All of these are fucking tough as hell but you survived, ya know what that makes you right? Tougher than hell, that's what. Be fuckin cut-throat when it comes to getting things to a better place and then REST, alright? Eat, drink a lot of water, and do things that make you happy. Cause this is fucking hard and you need to take care of yourself. You are smart and capable and you deserve fucking better. Another thing that your guides keep pushing is support, you fuckin need it. I dunno if y'all have been trying to deal with all of this alone or if you haven't told anyone you're struggling but you need to. I'm fuckin serious. Talk out loud to spirit if you have to, just saying things out loud or writing them down can really help you process what's going on in your head. I believe in y'all.

random ass vibes: 10:10, Blue, camping, birds, 90s, cat cartoons,

The Cat

The Emperor Rx, the Star, The World Rx, and the Eight/Cups on the back of the deck

Listen, I don't really do relationship advice but some of y'all need to be told that you can't change him. You can't and no, he won't change for you. And you shouldn't go into a relationship expecting a person to change. That's not for everyone, take it as it resonates. You need to take action towards what you want. Y'all are dreamers and that's awesome. It seems though, they're just staying dreams. I'm a Pisces moon, I'm not judging y'all at all when I say this but y'all really kinda live in a fantasy. Y'all seem to have this tendency to ignore what's in front of you for what it could be. The way it's coming through is that y'all are leaving so fucking much on the table that could EASILY be yours but the fantasy obviously is more than reality could ever be so that's where your mind wants to stay. Thing is, y'all know we don't live in a fantasy and you want to do better in reality. BUT you see the fantasy you have as how things "could" be and when you do act on your dreams and they don't match up to the fantasy, you feel inadequate. Like you're not reaching your potential. So, you get down on yourself and never want to pursue your dreams. I know it's hard to accept that reality can never meet the fantasy we build up in our heads. Reality is messy and in our fantasy we never have to shit or floss or maintain what we have, we just have it. The truth is having to accept that life will never be perfect. There is no perfect relationship, perfect job, or perfect life. No routine is going to magically fix your life. The people you love will always have traits that annoy you a little bit, just like you have traits that annoy them a little bit, but you love each other and know you're both worth mild annoyance. It's time to ground your ideas into reality and let them be imperfect. Let them breathe. Y'all are limiting yourself to the idea of perfection. Your life IS going to be a little fucked up and messy no matter what. Some of y'all ain't even perfectionists, you just don't believe in yourselves and use things not meeting your fantasies as evidence that you can't do it. I'm not getting much in the way of advice for y'all other than to act? If this is your group then I'm betting you've had an idea of what this has all been referring to for you and know what action comes with that. Good luck!

random ass vibes: Gilmore girls? starting tarot reading (hell yeah!) a good nights sleep, 122,

The Stars

Judgment Rx, Four/Pentacles, The Hermit Rx, Two/Swords Rx and the High Priestess on the back of the deck.

So, first thing is: that you can't manifest yourself past the time some things need to take. Some things just take time. Y'all seem to be holding on to this idea that you're not the active force in your own life making things happen? It feels like there's a person or a group of people, or maybe you believe in fate but there's something that y'all are endowing with more power in your life than you. It's like to you it doesn't matter what you want, what decisions you make because it'll work out how this other thing deems it should. Your judgment doesn't matter. Some of y'all even feel like you don't have a say in who YOU are. Y'all may have had or do have really controlling parental figures. But FUCK. That's devastating, y'all. I can't imagine feeling like you're not the driving force in your own life. Listen, I don't believe in fate, destiny, soul-mates, or "meant to bes" and I am not judging y'all if you do but fate isn't engineering every single little thing in your life. It's not all that serious, I promise. You can just do things. It's not all make-or-break-life-altering-weight-of-cosmic-destiny-on-your-sholders. Your life shouldn't be focused on figuring out what your fated path is and sticking to that rigidly. Why? Cause that's not life, babe. That's following a script. The truth for y'all is that you are the driving force in your life and you need to start trying to see yourself that way. And this reading is looking to be short cause it's kinda existential, but you have free will and can choose and act and change things. If there is a "path" it's a vague one and you're making the rest up as you go. You can just step off of it. Anytime. Head in any direction you want. You don't have to be with that person if you don't want to just cause someone said y'all were soul mates. You don't have to choose that career just cause it seems "fated", if you hate it, hate it and leave. YOU make the decisions.

random ass vibes: Russian Doll (tv show), 144, reds and yellows, thumb bone part that looks like a chicken leg lol? Disorientation by Katie Mack

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

Hii I was wondering if maybe you could write a Aemond Targaryen fic? Where Aemond is like Gomez Addams and he says, "Look at her --I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way --what bliss." With maybe even a taylor swift song? Thanks :))

EITHER WAY WHAT BLISS ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Tully! Reader 

prompt: Aemond is willing to die for the Reader if it means he'll get an ounce of her love.. ( The inspo was 'Gorgeous' by Taylor Swift. )

key: h/c = hair color, Dahlia = random servant girl, Evan Tully

word count: 2,000+ words

Brushing away a strand of white hair from their face, Y/n scans the rows of men, her eyes lingering on her brother Brynden. Her name day was supposed to be a small affair between her family and her bethorthal’s. But, the King was stubborn and insisted on having a Tourney at the very least. So, she’d be sitting through at least an hour of jousting, games of archery, and grueling duels. Not exactly what she wanted to do on her name day. But, what can she do? 

Picking at her bottom lip, Brynden gives her a weak smile as he adjusts his armor, her heart clenched tightly. He could barely hold a sword, and of course, he had to enter a bloody swordsman match. Feeling Dahlia nudge her side hard, she snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. Shit. Turning to look at Dahlia, she tries to smile as the black haired girl continues to ramble away about something about men and their ‘walks’. 

“I bet you my finest necklace, that knight. The one in black armor is really fine under that helmet.” Dahlia giggles, twirling a strand of her hair. 

“Oh? How do you know that? For all you know he’s got the face of a donkey. How good he looks in armor, doesn’t mean that he’s that good in regular clothes.” Y/n scoffs, following Dahlia’s eyes. 

“It’s the walk. Look at how he holds himself. A fine looking man walks with a little extra pep in his step. Like he knows that the moment he removes that helmet, girls are going to swoon over him.” Dahlia smirks, “Just like your little Prince.” 

“Just because you want to fuck my betrothed does not mean that I wish to hear about it, Dahlia.  Keep that talk for the other maids.” Y/n scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

“I am envious that you, little Y/n Tully, are going to call that man her husband. The ungodly things I would do make him look at me the way he does to you. He looks at you like you crafted the moon and stars.” Dahlia rambles, a dreamy look on her face. 

Scoffing at Dahlia’s teasing, she narrows her eyes at the knight, inspecting the black armor he adorned. His face was hidden under his helmet. Looking for some kind of hint of which house he was from, the only thing that was kind of a hint was the sapphire blue cape he was wearing. But, even then it could mean nothing. Tilting her head to the side, she didn’t like that the man was a mystery, why was he hiding? What was he hiding? Watching as he strolls over to Brynden, she stands up a little straighter in her seat, her jaw clenching. If he so much as touched a hair on her baby brother’s head, she’d make Maegor the Cruel seem like a baby compared to her. 

“Brynden will be fine, Y/n.” Dahlia reasons, but her voice is weak. 

“Brynden cannot even hold a sword upright.” Y/n argues, “Not to mention he’s got two left feet!” 

“Well you’ve always looked rather pretty in black?” Dahlia weakly smiles. 

“Dahlia!” Y/n scolds, shooting her friend a look. 

“I know! But, at least he’ll look good dying?” Dahlia cringes at her own words, “I don’t know! I don't really know what to say..”

Slapping Dahlia’s shoulder, the pit in her stomach only worsens, her face curling up in anger and uneasiness. She did not have any other siblings but Brynden. He was her whole world. Her baby brother. She had practically raised him! She was the one to teach him how to say his first words. She was the one who taught him how to walk. She was there to teach him how to handle a horse. How to be a just and kind Lord. How to be the perfect husband. She did everything that a parent would do. Except how to hold a sword. 

Picking at her bottom lip with her teeth, she slowly rises from  her seat, pacing back and forth in place. She wouldn’t be able to stomach her baby brother getting hurt. It’d kill her, surely! Feeling Dahlia grab her arm, she’s pulled from her darkening thoughts. The taste of blood floods her mouth. Shit. Wiping her bottom lip clean of blood, she’s aware of the eyes that now shifted onto her. The maiden of the day.  Aemond Targaryen’s betrothed. The sweet little Tully girl born with white curls. The Enchantress of the Realm. 

"Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like..I might sink and drown and die.."

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed..” Y/n breaths out, “Perhaps, I should just talk to him about pulling out. It’s not too late..” 

“My Lady…” Dahlia tries, but Y/n doesn’t hear her. 

“Do not try to talk me out of this, Dahlia. I will not allow my brother to make a fool of himself, or worse kill himself.” Y/n shakes her head, “I have made my mind! Come let us⎯”

“It’s your future husband..” Dahlia speaks through her teeth.

“You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face..'Cause look at your face..gorgeous...” 

Furrowing her brows at Dahlia’s odd words, the black haired girl turns her around, forcing her to look down. Shit.  She finds herself staring down at Aemond, the mysterious knight in black armor. Her face flushes a bright red from embarrassment. The knight they had⎯Well the knight Dahlia was gawking at was Aemond. Staring at him with wide eyes, Dahlia nudges her side, trying to snap her out of her little daze. But, it feels like her tongue is made of lead. Looking him up and down, his long white locs are braided back from his face, but a few stray strands frame his face. There’s a small smirk on his face, as he adjusts his armor. Gods almighty, he looked gorgeous in armor. 

“And I'm so furious..At you for making me feel this way..But what can I say? You're gorgeous..”

“Aemond..” Y/n breathes out, “You're the blue knight..I..I thought you didn’t give a shit about Tourneys?” 

“I don’t. But, it would be a shame if I did not participate in my future-brides Name Day Tourney.” He smirks, licking his bottom lip. 

“I..Aemond, could you..?” She chews on her bottom lip, “Could you possibly? Please watch out for my brother?” 

“I will.” He nods, making her smile gratefully. 

“Thank you.” 

He kept his word, or at least that was what Dahlia was telling her. She hadn’t dared to open her eyes just yet. She didn’t not care if that made her a coward. She just couldn’t stand to watch the fights and not think about her brother while men pummeled each other with swords. Squeezing Dahlia’s hand tightly, she tenses at the call of her brother’s name and Aemond’s. Her eyes shoot open, her jaw dropping slightly. No. No. No. No. That couldn't be right! She must have misheard! Sharply turning her head to the fighting circle, she bolts from her seat, leaning against the railing. Her nails dig into the wood like a cat’s would. Her eyes are flickering between the two of them. 

One of them would get hurt, she was sure of it, whether it be intentional or not. Her breathing grows ragged, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She was afraid that it would jump out of her chest. Watching as they  raise their swords, she stuck in a trance as they slowly circled each other. Their swords collide, her eyes shutting tightly at the horrid sound of metal against metal. Biting her lip, she doesn’t know why her eyes peel open, but her heart stops in her chest as  she catches the sight of Aemond falling to the ground. His sapphire blue cape slowly turned red. She nearly faints at the sight of red, he’s bleeding. Oh gods..He was bleeding. 

“You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah..”

“AEMOND!” She shouts, the words escaping her lips before she can stop it.

“My Prince!” Someone shouts, their voice a blur in her mind. 

No. No. No. No. Watching with blurry eyes as Maesters rush to him, she wants to bolt to him, but her legs are frozen in place. Brynden drops his sword, the realization creeping on his face. Feeling Dahlia’s arms wrap around her, it seems like the Arena explodes with chaos in an instant. Everyone is shouting loudly. Guards are rushing around in every direction. But, throughout the chaos her eyes are on him. Her Aemond. 

“He’ll be okay…” Dahlia reassures, “Maesters are tending to him..” 

“Take me to him.” Y/n breaths out, tears flooding her eyes. 

“Y/n..” Dahlia nervously warns, “I..I don’t think we should. Not right now at least.” 

“Take me to him.” Y/n repeats, her voice more firm than before.

Shooting Dahlia an icy glare, Dahlia chews on her lip before nodding her head at the request, a nervous look on her face. What if it was bad? What if he died? Would Brynden be punished? Gods, how in the Seven bloody hells did this happen? Following Dahlia, she picks up her skirt, her eyes searching for the white haired man that was to be her husband. Pushing past frantic Lords and Guards,  it felt like an invisible force had her by the throat,  squeezing her lungs and throat with each step she took closer to a bleeding out Aemond.  

Seeing him laying on the ground, his chest piece was removed, his white tunic cut open to reveal the rather gnarly gash on his stomach.  Tears flood her eyes at the sight before her.  Covering her mouth with her hand, she rushes to his side,  her eyes scanning every little detail that she can. His chest was moving up and down, he was drenched in sweat and dirt. That was a good thing. Looking at his face, his eye patch was removed, his hair completely unbraided and spread around him like a halo. 

“Oh..Aemond..” She whispers, petting his sweat soaked hair. 

“My Lady, you should not be here.” 

“He is my husband to be, I will not be leaving.” She argues, turning back to Aemond. “Aemond, are you okay, love?”

“I am fine. Do not worry.” He grunts, clenching his jaw.

Staring into his eyes, she tenses up at the sight of his missing eye-patch. Fuck, he looked gorgeous with that scar. Looking up at her, he notices her attention on his face. Lifting a hand to touch his face, his face drains of color when he doesn’t feel the leather of his eye-patch. He had been purposeful in hiding his scar from the world. He didn’t want to be viewed as a monster. But, she looked at him with such softness in her eyes. Hunching over him, she casually places her hand over his eye, hiding his eye from everyone. Giving him a small nod, his breathing grows shaky. 

“You dodged his attack. But, not like someone as experienced with a sword as you are, would. Why?” Dahlia asks, narrowing her eyes at Aemond.  

“Look at her, I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way⎯what bliss.” He whispers, High Valyrian flowing off his tongue. 

“You are a lovestruck fool, Aemond Targaryen.” Dahlia scoffs, “I hope this is the bloodloss talking.”

“What did you say?” Y/n furrows her brows, “Dahlia..?”

“He didn’t want to risk hurting your brother. That he rather he be the one hurt and not your brother. Come, let us reassure your little brother that he hasn’t killed your beloved.” Dahlia lies smoothly, nodding her head at Aemond.

Y/n looks between Dahlia and Aemond unsure, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know enough High Valyrian to understand what the two of them were discussing. But, she trusted Dahlia enough to take her word for it. Opening her mouth to speak, Aemond grabs onto her hand, stopping her. Looking down at Aemond, her cheeks flushing involuntarily, her heart was pounding frantically in her chest. She wanted him to keep on looking at her like that. 

“Go..” He nods, "I will be fine."

[eiightysixbaby]

Okay, so, this is kind of embarrassing to type out but kind of a hot idea for a fic, too? Please delete if it makes you uncomfortable!

Last night I had a little *me time* with my vibrator and my little machine (it's like one of those things you put a dildo on and you can set the speed to whatever you want so it's like it's fucking you) and I was on my tummy and had the vibe pressed to my clit and I came soooo hard but I don't know who to imagine when I think about someone finding me like that, Eddie, Robin, or Jonathan. 🫣 Send help!

ooooomg. i mean like they would all short circuit if they witnessed that, let’s just get that out of the way. but like, i guess i can elaborate. 🤭 i chose to do robin for this one, let’s try something new!! also i made this maybe a little more cutesy flirty than downright hot, but i hope you like it 🥹

18+ only pleaseeeeee

You let out an audible sigh the second you sink down onto the silicone toy. It presses so deep, your body slowly adjusting to the intrusion.

Quite honestly, it had been a long day, and you were pent up and seeking release. With your period just around the corner, your hormones are spiking at an all-time high, and you really aren’t sure how you even survived your shift at work without combusting.

You click a button on your tiny little remote, controlling the contraption you’ve strapped the dildo to. It starts to slowly move, helping the toy undulate, mimicking the thrusts of another person. Your brows furrow, your head tipping back as you rock your hips to meet the slow and steady thrusts.

Inhaling sharply, you click on your vibrator, pressing the tip of it against your puffy clit. A moan rips its way out of you, the second toy making your pleasure even greater. You’re grateful you have your apartment to yourself, your roommate’s shift running late tonight, so you don’t have to stifle your sounds.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, tension building in the pit of your gut already, a coil ready to snap and it’s only been a couple of minutes. You work your vibrator in rhythmic circles on your sensitive bud, panting as you inch yourself closer to your first climax of the evening.

With a cry, you’re clenching around the pink dildo, zaps of pleasure coursing through your desperate body. You give yourself a moment to steady your breathing before you’re upping the speed on your little fuck toy, letting out a long, low groan as the dildo fucks you faster.

If you hadn’t been lost in bliss, you’d have heard the front door open. If there wasn’t a white-hot ringing in your ears, you’d have heard Robin call out for you. But you didn’t, and you hadn’t, and all too late your bedroom door is swinging open.

Robin’s never been great with the whole knocking thing.

Her bright blue eyes go wide, her jaw flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh! I- uh- I’m so sorry, ohmygod—” she stammers, her face going bright red.

Your mouth falls into an ‘O’ shape, frozen at the shock of being caught. Robin’s eyes flit from your face to the toy that’s fucking you and back again, neither of you knowing what to say.

You feel your whole body heat, and for a split second the thought passes through your brain that you’re flustered because you want her to see you, not because you’re embarrassed that she did.

You don’t have the capacity to unpack that though, not when a seven-inch dildo is rocking into you and your vibrator is buzzing suddenly way too loud and Robin is now covering her eyes with her hand and awkwardly stumbling out of your room.

“Rob, wait!” you call, hurriedly shutting off your toys, slipping on an oversized sweatshirt and some underwear.

You find yourself worried — irrationally so, you can admit — that you’ll find Robin packing a bag to stay at Steve’s or something. Too traumatized to continue to live with you.

What you actually walk in on is Robin anxiously pacing the floor of her room, her face going that same shade of red when she notices you.

“I am sofuckingsorry, I did not mean to walk in on you and I also didn’t mean to stare for a second there but like, wow, that was a lot, and—”

“Rob, hey,” you interrupt, knowing she’ll ramble for god knows how long if you don’t settle her.

She stops her movements, chewing on her lip as she skittishly meets your eyes again.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful and like, locked my door or something. I thought you were working late, I did not intend for you to… see that..” you tell her, wringing your hands together. You feel feverish, that heat creeping back up your neck and flooding your face.

Because suddenly you want to ask her if she’ll touch you, if she’ll be the one to bring you to sweet release. Suddenly your stupid crush that you’ve been trying to tell yourself didn’t exist, is hitting you full-force like a freight train. Suddenly Robin is so strikingly beautiful — and she always has been — but it’s suffocating now.

“I- um,” she starts, her expression a little bit frantic as she picks her next words. “Are you… upset? That I saw you like that?”

The question shocks you, and you hesitate to answer for a moment.

“Was that so stupid to ask? I’m sorry, I am totally making this worse—”

“I wasn’t upset,” you cut her off. “I think I kind of… secretly hoped you’d walk in on me.”

Now it’s her turn to be speechless, and god, she looks so fucking cute when she doesn’t know what to say. Her eyes have gone so wide, and you can’t help but clock the way her gaze shifts to your mouth.

Maybe it’s not a big deal if you have a huge crush on your roommate, because maybe she has a crush on you, too. Maybe it’s always been this way, and you were just too stupid to see the signs.

You take a couple steps toward her, until you can feel the heat from her body radiating off of her. “Just tell me if this isn’t what you want, okay?” You ask, taking her face gently in your hands and bringing her to you, searching her eyes for approval before fully closing the distance.

She nods, a barely noticeable thing, and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. Your heart beats hard, and you wonder if hers is doing the same thing. The way she pulls away and has to literally catch her breath is confirmation that it is.

There’s a giddy type of silence, the kind that comes after new boundaries are crossed and there’s tangible tension in the air.

“Can I please touch you now?” she murmurs finally, sounding as if she’s been dying to ask that question for an eternity, if not longer. “Because watching you fuck yourself on that toy made me start sweating.”

You can’t help but giggle, and her expression lightens at your laughter.

“God, yes,” you reply. “You just edged me so hard walking in on me like that.”

She laughs, now, the nervous edge to her demeanor wearing off little by little. “Oh, poor thing,” she says, getting her footing in the situation. “I’ll have to take care of that.”

A little smirk plays on her pretty lips, and she kisses you again on the mouth before moving down to your jaw. Her hand reaches down to cup your heat through your thin underwear, and already you’re seeing stars.

She’s going to make sure you see the whole galaxy tonight.

[gillyweedgrl]

You should be watching Pit Babe! - A Brief Review

Saddens me to think how many people are missing out on a great show because they think it’s not worth more than a trash watch, if that.

I mean, realistically, is it the most amazing cinematic work of all time? No, not unless pretty-boy power bottoms with daddy issues are your thing, which in my case they are, so let's talk about Pit Babe!

Note: I've tried to keep the spoilers to a minimum, they're mainly in the tags and links so follow them at your own risk, you've been warned.

Honestly, Pit Babe is a pretty damn good show, especially if you A) pretend the Omegaverse factor doesn’t exist and take the show for what it is and B) you don't mind not knowing what's going on half the time, just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Overall, Pit Babe has got a good production value, a slightly absurd yet entertaining plot, a great choice of cast with amazing chemistry and pretty decent acting skills amongst the mix of seasoned actors and newbies.

For a totally biased fair and balanced review: There are some details that are left vague instead of being explained in depth or at all (yet), but that’s to be expected when you adapt a novel into a movie or series. It would get boring for the audience if the pace was interrupted to explain all those little details that we’re likely to find out along the way anyways (shout out to those who've watched the latest episode; finally!).

There are also some scenes that feel like they’re not as necessary and some background/plot devices that made a little more sense in the novel but I personally don’t feel like they detract too much from my viewing experience.

Babe (played by Pavel) and Charlie (played by Pooh) as the main leads do a really good job at shouldering a large percentage of screen time. Charlie comes across as happy-go-lucky, a bit clumsy/goofy, entirely fearless and a little naive, which is mostly true, but there's clearly more to him than that. Right from the start Babe is clearly someone guarded, detirmined and skilled at what he does (racing cars and having sex) and he has a very tight cirlce of people he trusts. There's a winning combo right there, quite tsundere/sunshine from the outside but definitely more breath the surface that gets exploded as they go.

Way (played by Nut) is Babe's best friend and racing companion, they've been racing together at Team X-Hunter for years but there's clearly more than friendship on the mind for Way, though the feelings appear to be one sided.

Alan (played by Sailub) is the owner of Team X-Hunter and an all-round cool Uncle (which the whole team call's him (despite barely being in his mid 30's). He's kind but firm, he cares for his team like they’re his family and it does seem as though they’re his only family.

And the rest of the cast consists primarily of:

Team X-Hunter:

Dean (played by Lee); a junior racer with slight douche vibes

North and Sonic (played by Michael and TopTen); everyone’s babies, they’re junior racers and content creators

Jeff (played by Pon); the newest member of the team, he’s a part time mechanic and full time conspicuous

Pete (played by Ping); the money guy Alan brings on board to sponsor the team

Team Red Racing (the rival team):

Winner (played by Pop); the guy who never seems to win against Babe

Kim (played by Benz); the new racer they hired to beat Babe

Tony (played by S Vorarit); Red Racing's newest benefactor and *shock horror* Babe's former foster father (try saying that ten times fast)

Kenta (played by Garfield); Tony's right hand man

Then, there’s the 🌶🔥🤯

I, personally, enjoy a little spice/heat in my shows. It’s not necessary for every show, of course, but I do think that when it serves a purpose to the story and it’s done well then it can be quite enjoyable and this cast/production team is doing it really well.

As I said, the chemistry between the cast really is amazing (both on and off the screen, if you're interested in that kind of thing) and although the spicy scenes aren’t nearly as abundant as they are in the novel, there are some really good ones. I decided to bite the bullet and binge read the novel over the past couple of weeks, I blame @pharawee’s breakdown posts for those sleepless nights, and it was worth it for me but not necessary for watching the series.

Lastly (as if this post isn't long winded enough as it is) there are a handful of things in this series that we don't see too often in BL's and make it worth watching even more:

It's got race cars, murder attempts, mafia influence and supernatural powers (at least half the characters have one).

There's no evil ex-lover out to get revenge or get back together with one of the mains (thank the BL gods).

It's got a Soft Top/Dominant Bottom dynamic where the title character is both super masc and a pretty princess.

And we can't forget, it is technically an Omegaverse series (or rather, it's Omegaverse-lite) which none of us saw coming!

Anywho, to conclude; yes, you should be watching Pit Babe. No, you don't have to read the novel to understand what's going on because none of us understand what the hell is going on at any given time. Charlie and Babe are fucking around and finding out, the rest of us are just long for the ride, Alan and Jeff are having a whole ass rom-com-drama in the corner, the babies are making their content and having a blast and the others aren't quite on the map yet (or are they? *wink, wink*), but I sure hope they will be soon!

If you made it this far, thank you and are you okay? Do you need to have your brain checked?

[kaelidascope]

director's commentary for the parallel hangouts merging together in Reach in MM (and WHAT WERE BLAKE AND WEISS DISCUSSING IN THAT CHILI'S)

**cracks my knuckles**

OKAY

Both Reach and Resist go hand in hand and achieve a handful of things all in one go. They read like a large time skip montage, showcase the growing tension between the bees, memorialize a handful of personal favorite memories of mine, and cover all these mod-podge collection of scenes I wanted for MM bees but ran out of space to properly expand on LOL

Blake teaching Yang how to pole-dance;

The stuffed bee comes from Pugoata's Etsy shop and I have one on my desk NGJFGFKGF

Yang not realizing the pole spins was also my first reaction touching a dancing pole for the first time LOL before I got into dancing, my roommate had me install her pole into the ceiling of our apartment and I went to touch it and almost fell off. Life imitates art or whatever

Around this time, as we later see in Resist, Blake is obviously going back and forth with her personal feelings and beliefs. Sawrin words it well in his breakdowns, but she is wanting to give into temptation by the obvious signs Yang is throwing at her. But then she remembers her life and situation and goes down a spiral of assumed futures and 'what ifs' and then just shuts down and runs off. Despite her willingly putting them BOTH in a situation where they could flirt and kiss. She's giving into natural temptation when she shows off to Yang more than she should, getting in her personal space. It's an easy mask to hide behind when she can play off her advances as 'teaching Yang how to be sexy'

She totally did intend on kissing her she just wussed out LMAO and what Yang doesn't see if she is downing that water in literal gulps because she is blushing profoundly and her hearts beating a mile a minute. This is roughly around the time Blake starts getting Ideas.TM about Yang and none of them are in the bible

Yang comes over for Guys Night at Pyrrha's;

I designed their neighborhood after the historic yuppity district close to where I lived for a brief time. More specifically, it's modeled after a fucked up cobblestone route I used to have to drive when I delivered pizzas in that area

Weiss may have been cut off from her family but she still had savings. She invested a fuck ton into that property specifically cus there's no HOA

The vibe I was going for with the fire pit and the projection outside on a cold November night was modeled after 2 experiences of mine. I remember being super fucking cozy around a fire pit at my ex's family house once and it was one of those rare nights where it was freezing. But with the scent of the firewood burning and being bundled up near loved ones, it was a rare moment of peace for me in my early twenties. Second, we used to have these family friends who had a sheet tacked up on their back porch and would watch football on it. I blended the two vibes together for this one

I can't get a lime to float to the bottom of a bottle of Corona so neither can Yang

I used to destroy the plate of pigs in a blanket at cookouts so that's why they ate those

Pyrrha's gambling addiction was born on the spot in this scene! It started with her just placing a bet but then after that, I saw opportunities present themselves and it was just too good not to pass up. The club-wide bet also did not exist until this chapter either LOL I wrote it into the story after the fact and it is not mentioned until The Hangover Chapter. But chronologically, she established it the second she saw Yang take Blake home after work.

The Chili's Girls Night is real and I used to do it often. The photo of them leaning over the table filled with empty margarita glasses also exists

And yes. We were very hungover after (there are more photos that exist, but for the sake of pre-transition face reveal, I'll send them to you Spork in DMs after if you wanna see them LOL)

So on this particular night, Weiss spent a good chunk of it complaining about her usual gripes. After three drinks, she asks Blake about Yang. What Yang DOESN'T see is how supportive Weiss actually is of their relationship, and she's the one who told her to text Yang and send them some pictures of their night out. Blake has been dragging heels FOREVER about dating and Weiss is just glad she's not being a fucking shut in who only focuses on working and nothing else. She was very much a recluse even when they lived together, so she's glad to see Blake spending time with someone other than Weiss's mandated outings. She had thought something might've gone somewhere with Ilia, but Ilia couldn't end up handling it. They then collectively nod and drink on her behalf (poor thing). They talk about some things in their past memories. Blake asks how she and Pyrrha are doing. They talk about some social drama going on in the club. Jaune is their waiter at this particular Chili's (yes there is lore here) and they make drunk small talk/tease with him. After drink 5 or 6 Blake starts getting loose about her attraction and shyness towards Yang and Weiss asks Pyrrha to bring Yang to come get them since Blake's too embarrassed to do anything.

Blake actually being receptive towards Yang here is literally cus her insecurities and self-imposed rules are barred out cus of how drunk she is. Yang acknowledges this, much to her dismay, and misses another opportunity to kickstart their relationship because if they are gonna start, it should be proper LOL and not something that could be seen as taking advantage of Blake. Both of them are old kind of beyond the sloppy juvenile mistakes

Blake "sleeping" on Yang is a memory from when I had a really rough emotional night during my grieving period and my boyfriend at the time just held me on the couch while I half-slept. Same vibes. We eventually had to move but I did not want to.

In the anthology series Midnight Forever, we will see a lot more Blake/Weiss interactions both from the past and off-screen throughout the original fic. Including the night Weiss made her stay and their first Margarita Night SKKSKSS Weiss and Blake's dynamic is modeled after mine and my now oldest standing friendship :) the very same girl who I danced with! Unlike Blake and Weiss though, our dancer personas were completely different and incompatible LOL we did not have a matching act

[xuzuitengenx]

Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano x Top Male Reader NSFW Oneshot (Wattpad)

Warning(s): EXPLICIT WORDS, Semi-public?, Dacryphilia, Oversimulation, Praising, Grinding, Fingering, Begging, Riding, Handjob

Requested: Yes

Genre—LEMON

AU—College AU

( Age: 18-20)

-Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano

•

At a college party, Mikey huffed and glared at his best friend and his boyfriend who were talking to each other but their conversation was inaudible due to the loud music that was playing.

He didn't like at the fact that M/N and Draken were that close.

"Mikey-kun!" Takemichi's voice made Mikey look away from the two.

"Yes, Takemitchy?" Mikey looked at Takemichi who was beside him.

"Uhm- Are you okay? You're kinda.. glaring at M/N-kun and Draken-kun." Takemichi says, holding some kind of nervousness in his voice.

"I'm not." Mikey looked over at the two again to now see them laughing. Mikey felt a pit of jealousy in his stomach, he quickly said goodbye to Takemichi and walked up to M/N and Draken.

"N/N, I want to dance with you." Mikey practically demanded as he grabbed the (H/C) hair male's hand and dragged him away from Draken.

"Woah- Mikey?!" M/N exclaimed as he was being dragged away by the black hair male to an area where other people were dancing to the music.

M/N was confused at the moment, seeing Mikey started to dance to the music that was loudy playing throughout the party.

Mikey turned backwards to M/N, his back touching M/N's chest. Mikey continued to vibe to the music, slowly grinding himself on M/N's crotch as he danced.

As he was doing this-M/N now knowing what's happening, he scoffed and smirked. He decides to dance with Mikey, he slowly puts his hands on Mikey's waist, his hands going along with Mikey's hip movements to the song that was playing.

They danced, their hips coordinated against each other to the song. Mikey was slightly looking for the Ryuguji to see if he was looking at them.

"You didn't think I would notice? You being jealous about Ken, hmm?" M/N whispered against Mikey's ear, catching the black hair man off guard. Mikey opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by sudden kisses on his neck.

M/N backs away from Mikey's neck. "Don't worry, I'm yours. Only yours." M/N whispered again to Mikey's ear. Mikey's cheeks turned pink as the jealousy slowly but not fully went away.

While they danced-at a slow pace, M/N's hand went up Mikey's hip and inside Mikey's loose fitted shirt, feeling his fit abdomen. Mikey let out soft sighs here and there as M/N started to kiss and softly sucked on his pale skin.

The grinding between the two also gotten rougher, mostly from Mikey's side. The tension seems to get hotter between them too. M/N detached from Mikey's now marked neck, getting his unoccupied hand and gently grabs Mikey's chin, making him look back at M/N a bit.

Seeing Mikey's flushed face, he placed a tender kiss on to his lips. Mikey melts into the kiss, potentially kissing back before licking the bottom lip of M/N which in response, M/N opened his mouth.

Their tongues soon met and entangling with each other. M/N's tongue taking claim in every part in Mikey's mouth he could touch.

M/N dragged his hand downwards on Mikey's stomach, his hands messing with Mikey's pants waistband before being stopped by Mikey.

Mikey moved away from M/N, a small connection of salva between their mouth.

After some heavy breathing from them, Mikey look at M/N with a dazed look.

"..Can- can we go to your dorm?" Mikey asked while he was slightly panting, feeling aroused by the whole thing.

"Mhmm. Of course."

•

"F-fuck~ Stop t-teasin-Ah~!" Mikey mewls softly as he clench the pillow underneath him. His back arched, his body trembling as M/N's fingers went deeper and curled inside of him.

Mikey's small gasps and mewls kept leaving his lips, unconsciously moving his hips back onto M/N's fingers. M/N's fingers reached to a certain spot which made the black hair male cry out, his fingers gripping more onto the pillow.

Once M/N thought that Mikey was stretched and prepped good enough, his fingers left Mikey's warm, sensitive insides, making the smaller male whimper.

"Such a good boy for me, Mikey." M/N smirked, seeing his trembling body under him. M/N runs his hand on the arched back of Mikey, stopping at his tailbone and goes to his hip.

"N/N~ I need you..p-please.." Mikey pleads quietly as he looks back a bit, slightly wiggling his ass. M/N felt butterflies in his stomach from Mikey's pleading, Mikey's submissive side showing.

Taking off his remaining clothing which were his boxers.

M/N aligned himself against Mikey's entrance, giving Mikey's shoulder blade butterfly kisses as he slowly inserts himself inside. A shaky moan slipped from Mikey's mouth, feeling both pain and mostly pleasure.

M/N stopped, letting Mikey get used to his cock for a bit before Mikey mumbled about moving which M/N did.

Thrusting himself slowly into Mikey, lowly moaning at Mikey's tight and warm insides, their bodies colliding at each thurst.

Mikey's moans started to become louder, the pain faded away as it was fully replaced with pleasure. M/N increased the pace of his thrusting, making the smaller male continue his loud moans and mewls.

Mikey bit down on the pillow that was still underneath him, his legs started to become weak and his lewd sounds muffled as M/N's cock fills him and repeatedly hits his sweet spot.

M/N sees this and left Mikey's insides. He almost immediately flipped him over. Mikey's face was revealed to M/N, his eyes already on the verge of tears and his lips opened slightly as he was breathing heavily, pink was added generously on his cute cheeks.

M/N smirked and suddenly had an idea.

"Why don't you ride me, Mikey?" M/N looked at Mikey who nodded at the request.

•

"Ahh~! Haa~!! Fuck~" Mikey moans loudly, his body bouncing on M/N's cock as M/N was biting and leaving marks on his neck. Even though, M/N couldn't see Mikey's beautiful face, he loved that he can hear Mikey's moans so close to him.

"I love your moans, love~ Ngh~" M/N moaned. Mikey whimpers before a lewd cry leaving his lips. Mikey felt a hand on his cock that started stroking.

"Haah~!! T-too- Nyah~ Much~!" Mikey mewls, tears falling from his face due to the immense pleasure. M/N's thrusted upwards into Mikey as he was giving Mikey a handjob, putting Mikey over the edge.

"S-shit~ Ah~" M/N felt Mikey tighten due to the simulation. Feeling himself going to cum, he quickens the handjob, teasing Mikey's leaking tip mostly.

"N/N~ Gah~! Wait~!" Mikey loudly moans freely, feeling M/N quickens the handjob. Mikey felt himself closer and closer to cumming on the spot.

Soon, Mikey continued moaning constantly and soon crying out that he was going to cum.

Mikey's back arched as his hole tightens around M/N once again, his body violently trembling as he hit his climax. M/N bit down on Mikey's shoulder as he also came, making Mikey yelp.

Soon after, M/N removed his cock from Mikey's insides, laying Mikey down with him on the bed.

Now the two are laying in bed as they were panting heavily. Mikey felt M/N's hand wiped his face from the tears.

"Let's get cleaned up, shall we?" M/N says as he gave Mikey's nose a small peck, making Mikey giggle softly.

Let's just say that his jealousy went away alright.

[eldritch-spouse]

I’m literally soo devoted to krulu idk what it is he just draws me. i think i would be part of a cult for him if he was real. anyways what are some of the traits admin gains from being his vessel? do they get physical marks or is it just special powers like enhanced strength for example?

Krulu's manifestation in you isn't fixed, it can be something as simple as an "off vibe" to visible mutations and disfigurement. But, listing off some general factors-

Physical mutations

Physically speaking, Krulu can and oftentimes override the left side of your face, his two slitted eyes remaining where your left one was. He does it to study things more closely, or to let someone know he's present;

In a similar vein, your mouth can also be altered to resemble his more closely, facilitating direct speech through your body;

The more you're physically mutated for the higher's convenience, the more black veined protrusions will appear along your body, protruding with varying degrees of intensity, to the point where your feet and hands may become darker, digits elongating;

Both you and Krulu can manifest, from your figure, pairs of his arms. For whatever purpose really. As Admin, you likely use only two at once, as it quickly becomes too many limbs for your brain to coherently pilote at once. But Krulu can use all six of his arms on you, or even more;

Similarly, his tail can also be manifested for a variety of purposes, though it's quite long and disproportionate on you, usually;

On a number of occasions, you've been given the privilege of sporting a manifestation of Krulu's male anatomy on your pelvis. Though this isn't something you can summon at will, permission is required first.

"Abilities"

It's no wonder you have increased strength, is it? You're also noticeably heavier than you should be, but that fluctuates. Generally, this increase in strength is something easy to control, activated in choice moments;

Since your body has been tinkered with very thoroughly, you're also extremely durable for a human. Meaning a stab to the stomach isn't going to do you in, nor will being set on fire or tossed into the bottom of an ocean to drown. Of course, you still feel a lot of pain, but you're not dying anytime soon, not even if a bullet flies right between your eyes;

Inflicting fear and pressure upon others is something extremely easy for you to do, given Krulu's aura always shines a little through you, no matter how well either one of you attempts to mask it. People will simply be intimidated by you, inexplicably afraid, which, in turn, makes them a lot more cooperative;

The sexual rejection response. Whenever Krulu doesn't want anyone touching what's his, he makes it so whoever attempts to penetrate your orifices is met with rows of jagged teeth ready to snap and tear at any offending intruders. Your insides will also clench to nearly impenetrable states, though thankfully painlessly;

In a complete 180, you've been modified to welcome partners who are much bigger than humans. This was done entirely for his pleasure, but that doesn't mean it doesn't come in handy when the two of you pursue someone else.

Less amazing aspects

You go through his ruts. Enough said;

You may still occasionally experience the side-effects of trauma inflicted upon Krulu, due to all the time they spent in the Null. This means that you may have fits on unquenchable hunger as if you've been starving for ages and your stomach is a bottomless pit, usually ending in you bent over, puking your guts out. Alternatively, it can also manifest as hyper-aggressive states and a desire to hide somewhere utterly quiet and suffocatingly dark;

Mental tangling. Sometimes, when either one of you or both are having overactive episodes, your individual thoughts may "leak" onto the other's conscious and begin gradually taking over more and more space, making one element "recess". These episodes are bothersome and can escalate to a point where some time is required to stabilize them.

I'm sure I'm missing some things, but this is what jumps to mind.

[civilotterneer]

Oh come on!! Are you going to bail now??? By the by, Echo wont allow people to leave during a HYSTERIA EVENT which is built up over decades with SUF- Suffering? yeah no SUFFERING (like guilt and stuff) and is quickly released within the span of a week or month. So unless its 2015 for whatever reason, it should be well past the HYSTERIA EVENT's build up phase, should still be on cooldown... unless theres a dead gila in the waters!!!! Then the HYSTERIA EVENT never went off and is still primed and ready!!!! Tha'd be really bad! thank god a certain otter decided to come out as bi right? Right? Oh and... incase of the HYSTERIA EVENT going off... Good luck!!!! Nobody will come to help you!!!! Not even your closest allies!!!! yknow now that i think about it if you defeat whatever godthing that resides in echo.... you can probs enslave it to produce free energy! I mean you can teleport with it!!!! Oooh.... cut it up into bits and turn the hysteria into better vr specs.... but it isnt even physical (I think, unless its a large mound of flesh at the very bottom of those caverns) so my dreams are dashed, No national flesh pits for us lowly folk.... what was i talking about again????

Hey Lye, is it just me, or does this Echo place kinda have a bad vibe? Like, I feel like we're always just a few steps away from some kinda horrible fate or going insane.

*Lye: actively restraining herself from strangling the blind otter*

Also surprise! Some of the improvements are visible now! New outfits and the updated pads are just the start, and now Lye looks less ... crinkly.

[coldflasher]

2 and 10 for those salty asks? Thanks!

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BrOTP?

Hm, I think its popularity as a romantic ship is debatable but I could never get into Barrisco in a romantic or sexual context.

If I can also include Legends, Nate and Zari, 100%. I do not enjoy them as a romantic couple, it just doesn't make sense to me. They have such wildly different vibes. Same with Behrad and Astra, I get that opposites attract and all but...

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

For Flash, the forces arc, of course. I HATE IT. I know most people think the quality dipped in s4/s5 but when i tell you there is one PARTICULAR ep in 7 where the writing is so offensively bad that I can now pick it out as the exact moment the show stops going downhill at a gentle decline and falls screaming into a dark pit like the alton towers rollercoaster "oblivion", and it's one of the forces eps...

i hate everything about it. i hate the characters, i hate how they're basically just bog standard metas but they make them ridiculously OP for no reason. i hate that barry and iris are their "parents" and we all have to pretend that's not fucking weird. i don't find them compelling and i feel like they don't fit the tone of the show, they showcase just how bad and cheap the CGI gets, and there is just nothing redeemable about that storyline whatsoever.

it's so bad that i don't even wanna get in the sandbox and fix it. like most plotlines on the show, even the bad or silly ones, i can be like "oh that could have been cool if they did it this way or expanded on this aspect of it" and i have ideas about how i would approach it differently, but i hate this arc so much i don't even wanna play in the sandbox with it, i just want to bury it at the bottom and pretend it doesn't exist

I will also do an honourable mention for crisis not because I actually hate it---much as I dislike how they resolved it, I actually think the build-up is fantastic. However, watching it week to week was an awful experience cos I was so stressed about Barry dying that I would get physically unwell. I would get stomach pains and anxiety even though I KNEW they'd never kill him off. It was a bad time for me. On a rewatch, though, it's a really good arc as long as you turn off the TV before you get to crisis and imagine it had a good ending lmao

Thank you :D

[flieslikeamoron]

Haven AU!!!

So Haven AU is the Steve Can’t Feel Anything But Eddie fic. I posted the beginning part of it here. It’s not really a Haven AU because that show was one of those mystery box shows where the box is so pretty and intriguing, and then when they finally open it you find out there’s a turd inside. But the idea of a person who can’t feel anything except this one other person’s touch is from Haven. And the idea of powers that are like afflictions. Haven had a monster of the week format, but the “monsters” were just people who for the most part couldn’t control their powers and were accidentally hurting themselves or their loved ones or the town. I liked that the show was a “we try to help these people if we can” show instead of a “we kill monsters” show. Anyway the fic is only slightly related to the show but the germ came from there.

I mostly have notes not writing on this one because the original idea was honestly just vibes. Like it was just Steve Can Only Feel Eddie's Touch - Eddie Doesn't Want to Touch Anyone Because He's a Touch Telepath. So it took a while to figure out what the actual arc could be after that first accidental touch. Like why does Eddie keep touching him? Where does it go from there? I think I have the shape of it now, but of course I never know for sure if it works until I start writing it. So I do have to get on that. I’m still not even sure if I’m going to do both POVs or just Steve's, but I’ve been writing some of Eddie’s just so I know what’s going on with him. And I’ll use the stuff or not depending on whether it's needed.

These aren't exactly snippets from an actual draft, but here are a couple bits of Eddie's POV. It’s two different versions of what it could be that I wrote when I was trying to work things out.

This one was more of a he hates his power from the jump type of thing.

Eddie doesn’t realize at first what’s happening. It feels like- Feeling. Like little bursts of feeling, and maybe sometimes they don’t seem to quite- Fit. Inside him. But hell, it’s not like his mind is normally a super organized place. It’s not like his feelings have ever been- There’s always been a lot of noise is the point. Inside his head. He’s always felt a lot of shit. So of course he didn’t really notice a few… Extras.

It gets worse, but that takes a while to notice too. More than just a feeling, it’s thoughts sometimes. Fully formed. Not fitting right. It’s a place. A moment. Like a memory of something that never happened to him. Is it that weird though? The part where it doesn’t fit is weird, but his head’s always been full of worlds and characters, anywhere but here stories. That’s partly why he loves D&D so much. A way to let those things overflow. So this is, it’s not that different. It doesn’t seem... Crazy. 

And then it starts to feel like maybe it is. Maybe he is. Crazy. Fully off the tracks. Head full of jagged pieces that aren’t him. They can’t be him. Things he wouldn’t think. Things he couldn’t know. Things that aren’t real, probably anyway. Delusions. Voices inside his head. Lock you up type stuff. Because he’s lost it, completely lost it. Just like his mom.

And then this one is I think is more what I’m going with. It’s from a version where he thinks at first he can use his power to get dirt on the popular kids and the bullies. He thinks it’ll be kind of fun to have something over on them, but he quickly realizes he doesn’t actually want to drown in other people’s shit.

He doesn’t want to know sweet, pretty Chrissy Cunningham hears her mom’s voice in her head when she makes herself throw up. He doesn’t want to know Billy Hargrove’s dad hits him. Fuck, what a bottomless pit that guy’s head was. A thick black sludge of barely held back hatred, rage closing over Eddie, dragging him down. But even worse, somehow, was the soft focus light at the bottom of that bottomless pit, the glowing memory of his mom. Maybe a little too much like what Eddie thinks the picture of his own mom might look like if somebody could see into him like that. He doesn’t want to know he and Tommy Hagan have had some similar thoughts about Steve Harrington’s mouth. Mostly what it might feel like, look like wrapped around a dick. That, at least, is proper blackmail material. But he hates the familiarity of the shape of those thoughts. The useless want and the slimy coil of shame and the sickening, pathetic need for attention. Any scrap of attention. He hates seeing any echo of himself in these people. Hates the way all the ugly shit clings inside his own head long after he’s stopped touching someone. Oily streaks of pain and fear and anger. 

No, fuck all of that. He doesn’t want any of it. 

[batfambitches]

|| DRABBLE ||

Drabble ties into my Danny & Damian Twin Fic

Jason didn't want to come home from patrol early, he didn't want to be alone going into The Anniversary. But Bruce had all but forced him to go home early, he was being harder then he needed to with goons and he'd snapped at Barbra towards the end there. Part of him didn't blame him for pushing him to go home, but that didn't stop him from being pissed about it.

As soon as he entered the apartment though he realized that the guest he'd had coming and going for the last 2ish months was there. Dani was sitting on the couch with a bag of chips, hand frozen half way to her mouth as she gave him this weird look. After a second she shoved the chip into her mouth well at the same time floating up off the couch and towards him. “Your giving off a weird vibe.” She told him as she circled around him.

“I'm fine.” Jason pulled off his coat and tossed it to the side, weapons going onto the counter when he got into the kitchen. The guns he set down, the couple knives he had on him practically got thrown down. All the while he had a shadow lurking behind him. He ignored it.

“The ghosty feeling I get from you feels... I don't know, obviously your angry but it's almost like it's happy.” At that Jason whipped around, his anger flaring at the statement.

“Happy!?” Whatever part of the pit she could feel in him was happy? Why was he not surprised! “Of course it's happy!” he turned around again, leaning on the counter as he tried to ground himself there. “Why wouldn't it be happy on the day I died!” He didn't hear anything after that, and he wondered if Dani was even still there.

Then she was sitting on the counter next to him with her hand on his, head leaning back against the cupboards and feet swinging forward and back right through the bottom cupboard doors like they weren't there. “I was born this was but my brother he... He doesn't tell the others but they all know his death still bothers him, his friend and older sister always try to make him take it easy but he just wants to keep going till he's to tired to stay awake.”

Jason might be imagining things, but he could swear the room got colder well she spoke. He knows the feeling of the pit seemed to shrink, was that her? Some weird ghost trick? “Sounds like maybe you should be back home helping your brother deal with his bullshit.” He told her, a weak attempt at snark.

“Hm, nope! His got his friends and sister, they know about ghost stuff. You don't, not getting rid of me that easy.” She had a grin on her face when he looked over at him and he just rolled his eyes.

“I got enough siblings, I don't need anymore people harassing me.” Despite the annoyed tone? He did appreciate it, she seemed to get the whole death thing in a way other people didn't. Made since, the whole half ghost thing and all.

“To bad! My brother says I'm an natural at the annoying little sister gig.” At that she hopped off the counter and told him. “I'll he back in a half hour with food! Where watching one of those lame movies you like.”

With that she went ghost and flew off, about 20 minutes later Jason felt a weird sort of calm that he brushed off as he finished cleaning his guns for the night and putting them where they actually belonged.

___

Dani left the apartment and flew off, instead of heading for food right away she landed and pulled out her phone. She was looking for some kind of guide on grave sights, she knew they existed. Finally she found what she was looking for. She stopped at a corned store, bought a little candle and some flowers and flew off.

When she got where she was going and frowned, the dirt looked wrong for a grave and she didn't wanna think to hard on why. Instead she just put down the flowers, set the candle on the stone and lit it before flying off to get some take out.

[wreckingtickles]

Hello hello! I’m not sure if you’ve done him yet but maybe Midoriya for the ask game? He gives off such lee vibes to me it’s crazy and I would love to read what you think!

Ah, Midoriya... he's that unfortunate combination of adorable and extremely sensitive that ensures everyone around him wants to see him squeal, yelp, and jump. I previously mentioned that Kaminari freaks out when tickled because he's just that big of a drama queen: with Izuku, no, he's just that ticklish. Whether ye be boy or girl, lad or lass, guy or gal, bully or doll, you will feel compelled to see him squirm, which was probably a bit of a recurring thing at school. Bakugo might be Kirishima's favorite lee, but Deku had to be the most frequent... and a bunch of other people's no. 1 target.

Tumblr has sold me on his worst spot being his hips/V-line, followed by his feet and pits. Which is kind of cool because, top, bottom, middle.

As for a scenario, I could talk about his classmates ganging up on him, or Mei designing a weird machine, or the bullying he suffered when he was younger, but I don't wanna. So I'll say two things.

As an intern in Sir's office, Izuku got put in the machine multiple times. Like, that's as close to canon as you can get, we didn't see it happen, but come on! Then, I like to think that Mirio also took it upon himself to enforce ticklish consequence. He even came up with punishment tiers: 1 is the machine, 2 is the machine but shirtless, 3 and 4 is Mirio himself doing the tickling (4 is shirtless/sockless), 5 and 6 is both the machine and Mirio at the same time (with 6 being, again, shirtless and sockless). And I'm afraid even Mirio would come to enjoy it lol

2. I'll build off the Bakugo headcanon and say that Toga got a taste for it and thought about dear Izuku, as she's definitely not immune to his charm. So she turns into Uraraka or Mei, gets him nice and tied down, reveals her true colors, and confuses the hell out of him by tickling him until he passes out. Oh, how she'd love to see just how bad each and every spot is, how far she can push him... I know this isn't original, but if the red shoe fits...

Lastly, I've recently written a story with Midoriya as a lee, though with it being NSFW, it may not be visible to a lot of people.