#well have a ficlet i guess?
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what, like itâs hard?, pt. one
âitâs just that⌠if i want to win a seat in congress by the time iâm thirty, i need to find someone whoâs serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what heâs wearing on my campaign stops,â tommy tells steve, as theyâre sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steveâs ever step foot in. the menu hadnât even included any prices.
âbut⌠iâm seriously in love with you.â steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week heâd been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. heâd introduced steve to his familyâtheyâd spent a week out on marthaâs vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommyâs great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as sheâd winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.
âand i love you too, baby, but look. you donât want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?â tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if heâs not ripping steveâs heart out at this very moment.
and steve canât help but think how silly this all is, because itâs not like tommyâs actually running for anything right now. steve doesnât even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. theyâre only 22, they havenât even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommyâs saying these things as if theyâre all real, right now.
âand iâm off to harvard next fall. itâs not like weâll stay together while iâm there and youâre still here, right?â
and the thing is, steve had actually thought heâd be going with tommy to boston. theyâre both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadnât really ever talked about it, but theyâd been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought theyâd still be together when tommy started at harvard law.
but now steveâs starting to feel extra stupid.
âso⌠what? youâre breaking up with me?â steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he canât believe that two hours ago he thought heâd been getting ready for a proposal.
âdonât think of it as a breakup, stevie⌠think of it as a conscious uncoupling. weâre just moving in two different directions. iâll be at harvard law next semester and youâll beâŚâ tommy gives him a look of slight disdainâsteve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but itâs never been directed at steve before. âwell, youâll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. weâre on different paths.â
and thatâs what truly makes steveâs blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and heâd thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didnât realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. heâs not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him heâs no good.
so he doesnât respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.
tommy doesnât even follow him out.
~*~
âoh steve⌠iâm sorry,â robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.
âitâs not even that he broke up with me,â he explains through tears. âitâs that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldnât do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isnât even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isnât this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?â
âis this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?â robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where theyâve been carding through his hair in the process.
âyou did?! no, you didnât.â he searches robinâs face for a moment and then sighs. âwhy didnât you say anything? you couldâve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.â
âbabe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldnât have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.â when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. âsteve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.â steve is still staring at her. âhe tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dadâs private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesnât even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.â
steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipperâsteve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasnât looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so⌠okay, maybe robin had a point.
steve tells her as much, then adds, âbut he was always nice to me.â
robin snorts. âare you kidding? heâs stood you up so many times i canât even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you werenât as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person theyâre dating?â
steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.
âokay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?â he knows heâs whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.
âi donât know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.â steve can hear the fondness in robinâs voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.
they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. itâs so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.
âhey, you know what would be super funny?â sheâs laughing a little as she says it.
âwhat?â steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.
âif you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.â
steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, heâs got teaching to think about. he doesnât have a place yet, but he knows heâll get one soon.
but as he sits there with robinâs hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how heâd have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.
ârobin?â she hums in response. âyouâre a goddamn genius.â
~*~
âdingus, are you sure you want to do this?â
the spring semester starts in three days. itâs their last semester at northwestern and thereâs nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steveâs future. he hasnât slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.
âiâm sure.â steve has his lsat exam in one week. âi have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.â
âno, steve, i donât mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. itâs clearly more stress than itâs worth. do you even want to go to law school?â robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think itâs very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.
âi could,â he responds grumpily.
robin sighs. âi just mean⌠is this worth it?â
steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.
âthis isnât just about tommy.â robin gives him a skeptical look and itâs his turn to sigh. âitâs really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now itâs more than that. itâs proving that i can do something unexpected of me.â he swallows. âno one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school whoâd never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadnât gotten in on my own merits. he didnât think i could. but nowâŚâ he runs a hand through his hair nervously. heâs never said any of this out loud before. âheâs not around now. thereâs no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, itâll prove something to me. something that maybe i donât really believe yet.â
he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesnât. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.
âokay,â she says. âwhat do we have to do?â
~*~
âmail here?â steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.
thereâs a moment that feels like a pause. âyeah, itâs here.â
steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.
his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. âi canât,â he tells her. âyou do it.â
her eyebrows shoot up. âyouâre sure?â steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then sheâs smiling.
steve grabs the paper from her. âoh my god?!â he yells. âoh my god!â
robin practically jumps into his arms. â179, baby! harvard law here we come.â
~*~
even after such a successful run at the lsats, thereâs still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steveâs only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. heâs so out of his depth that heâs forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steveâs only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning oneâs future, but that doesnât really matter to steve. for him, itâs harvard or nothing.
there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steveâs head spin. thereâs the statement of purpose and the personal statementâthe difference between those two requires robinâs careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then thereâs the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and
but with robinâs help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.
steveâs never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that heâs getting on robinâs nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.
and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words âharvard lawâ in bold, beautiful crimson red.
~*~
âlast chance to back out,â robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.
ânah.â steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. âletâs get out of this dump.â
and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.
[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! itâs giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u donât. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like âIDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????â so if thereâs a name in here that shouldnât be, no there isnât.]
#the not as hot as ur pictures thing is a real thing my ex said to me after weâd been together for like six months lol called me ugly đ#legally blonde au#steddie#steddie fic#steddie legally blonde au#this will EVENTUALLY be steddie if i write more lol#robin buckley#steve harrington#platonic stobin#steddie fanfic#steddie ficlet#iâm setting it up!!!!!#eddie will be a bartender not a law guy sorry!!!! lawyer!eddie just donât feel right to me#steddie fanfiction#steddie blurb#guess what i watched tonight#well i also watched mean girls lol#here have this half finished thing#i wanted to finish it before posting but
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good morning. if anyone was wondering, i am still thinking about cletho, thanks for asking,
#i have settled a LITTLE into thinking about literally anyone else#like i think i have a scar ficlet idea#and i am looking at pearl's tragedy with#well it's a tragedy.#but mostly i'm going WAHHHHH CLEO AND ETHO internally#as is my right i guess.#god i threatened to become like an annoying dsrt duo guy and i HAVE. I AM BLATANTLY IGNORING EVERY OTHER STORYLINE FOR MY GUYS.#'hey did you know scar won' 'yeah scar won good for him CLEO TOLD ETHO HE WAS THEIR FAVORITE. DID YOU SEE THAT.'#so you know. SORRY ABOUT THAT EVERYONE I DID WARN YOU.#so how about that cletho huh.
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Ben has kind of been having the worst day of his life, what with the dying and all.
Itâs a marked improvement when heâs tramping through the forests of Takodana and a familiar voice demands, âWould you believe me if I told you Palpatine was my grandfather?â
He turns around.
Stares.
Rey stands ten feet away, her blaster pointed at him, a challenge in her eyes.
âWould you believe me if I told you Han Solo was my father?â he says, answering the question with a question.
âYes,â she says, lowering the blaster.
âWell, that answers that,â he replies, turning off his lightsaber.
The silence stretches on.
Takodana is unpleasantly hot.
Why did he ever think wearing all-black was a suitable fashion choice?
Rey falters, apparently not having planned what to say if she got this far. âI suppose this is where we save the galaxy.â
âI suppose so,â he agrees. âTo Exogol, then?â
âHave you got the Wayfinder already?â she asks, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
âPicked it up on the way here.â
âAh. That simplifies things.â She holsters her blaster and sets off at a brisk pace, adding as she brushes past him: âAnd try not to die this time. It was so inconvenient.â
âYou died first,â he mutters.
#ngl this is like. the only content I have for this AU#I found it when I was going through my WIP folder and I have absolutely no memory of writing it whatsoever#but I decided what the heck might as well throw it into the pick a snippet game#did not expect it to win but my expectations often prove wrong lol#anyway yeah this is the Rey And Ben Save The Galaxy (Again) AU#where. idk. i guess they kill palpatine and snoke and defeat the bad guys while being kinda bored and whatever about it#and also confusing the crap out of everyone else#(not a shipfic btw because their dynamic is so much funnier to me as. like. casual friends who happen to be a dyad in the force)#fic snippet#or maybe a ficlet idk#depends on if this au ever gets expanded#star wars#star wars sequel trilogy#ben solo#rey star wars#(I'm not tagging rey palpatine and I'm not tagging rey skywalker ok. I'm just not doing it. shes rey star wars)
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limerence
Filthy, sweaty, smeared with grease and motor oil, skin tinted dark beneath work-worn clothes, all calloused, skilled hands and soft, damp curlsâheâs a gorgeous piece of shit with tight jeans and fitted Ts and arms Lovino would sink his teeth into. He wipes the sweat from his face with his wrist, stains his cheeks and forehead black. Lovinoâs fingers twitch with the urge to touch.
Stop it.
Sharp grin, crooked, bright. Eyes that shine under mid-afternoon light and the sick yellow of dirtied fluorescence.
âYouâre here.â Happy, he sounds so fucking happy, smile too wide and a nose that crinkles when he laughs, covered ridiculously in black freckles of oil; stupid, heâs so stupid.
Pull yourself together.
âYeah. That okay?â
âOf course. Iâm always happy to see you.â
Stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid.
A scoff, cheeks flushing pink and humiliatingly hot. Lovino blames it on the heat of sweltering midday sunlight, knows itâs a lie before the words even take form in his throat.
âIs there something you wanted?â
For you to take your shirt off.
His lips turn sweet, slow and nectar-thick, smile melting to something curious and imploring, like seeing Lovino is a fucking blessing, which is so idiotic Lovino refuses to entertain the thought.
Youâre pathetic.
âNo. Didnât know I needed a reason to visit.â
He chuckles, rich and low and liquid fire in Lovinoâs veins. âDonât be like that. You know youâre always welcome.â Peridot darkens to jade beneath half-lidded eyes that flick across Lovinoâs face, that trace the line of his legs and the cross of his arms. âWould you like to watch me work?â
You can work on me, instead.
âWatch you work or watch you work?â
Laughter, airy and charming, amusement that turns gem-green to grassy summer fields. Knife-sharp and cutting, his grin is lazy and heady, fabric of his sleeves tight and taut around sweat-coated biceps. Black-tipped fingers push thick curls from dark eyelashes, and Lovino knows he is so fucked.
âWhatever you want, sol.â
Youâre the sun, not me.
âHm.â
Arched back and lean muscle, smooth enough that Lovino can imagine the warmth of it beneath his hands, hotter than the burn of his cheeks, skin turned ruddy with infatuation and limerence. But they sit in the song of whistling bird calls, companionable, comfortable, carried by the melody of clinking metal and the shifting of gears.
Antonio hums when he works. Lovino listens.
#hws romano#aph romano#hws spain#aph spain#spamano#hetalia#hetalia fanfiction#mango minifics#(alternatively titled: all sham no wow)#guess who decided to post their ficlets!!! i have a backlog of so many little random blurbs and ideas that i never posted#bc theyre too short for ao3 (in my opinion) <- (said by someone who is physically incapable of shutting the fuck up)#oh well. hopefully theyre still enjoyable <3
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I'm finally writing and!!! agh!! there's so much I want to include I feel overwhelmed by the possibilities lol
#i think i have at least 4k on this. it was going to be a ficlet#knowing me i'll end up at like 6-8k at this rate lol#well. if i'm going to write one fic (maaaybe 2) for a fandom i guess it'd better be a long one!#soo many things to consider ;-;#alys.txt#my writing
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100 Shades of xisang: 95. Sick fic
Lan Xichen filled the spoon with some soup, blowing lightly on the already lukewarm liquid so the temperature would not be a problem. The previous night Nie Huaisang had barely swallowed anything after supposedly burning his tongue. Lan Xichen was however careful not to let it cool down too much either, as that had caused Nie Huaisang to refuse to eat anything that morning, whining that when the soup was cold, it became even more bitter than usual and thus inedible.
âItâs too thick,â was Nie Huaisangâs newest excuse to avoid eating, having probably realised that temperature wouldnât work anymore. âMy throat hurts too much, I canât swallow that. I canât eat at all.â
Lan Xichen reminded himself that he did, in fact, love this man.
He also reminded himself that it was his own fault if Nie Huaisang was sick, since he was the one who had suggested a Night Hunt⌠though definitely some of the responsibility still fell on Nie Huaisang himself, who should have been more careful and avoided falling into a cursed pond which he had been repeatedly warned about.
âEr-ge, canât I get candies instead?â Nie Huaisang begged, making Lan Xichen question his life choices.
#xisang#nie huaisang#lan xichen#mo dao zu shi#mdzs#jau writes#oh ok so I have exactly one week worth of ficlets left I guess wow#oh well#100 shades of xisang
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i mentioned on the dys>sol/nomi i was gonna be posting more of my fic backlog on here and then Did Not Do That..... until now! have some dys>sol>cal. 'you sure write a lot of dys>sol where sol likes other people' yeah. yeah. i won't lie to you guys tho this run does eventually end w/dys/sol but. u kno. takes a bit :)
aaaaanyways please enjoy this Unrequited Teen Angst WWWWWWW set during early year 16!
is that the sun i see (or am i just being greedy); 700 words
Solâs weirdly moody on the transport. Usually even if heâs quiet, heâll be fiddling with his holopalm or listening to music or something, but today heâs in the very back, just staring out at the scenery, and when their eyes meet for half a second he doesnât even smile. Sol always smiles when he sees Dys, which honestly used to kind of weird him out but these days⌠does not do that.
Still, as the team files out of the transport and breaks off into pairs, Dys keeps an eye on him instead of scouting ahead like normal -- which ends up being a good thing, because after about fives minutes out by themselves Sol suddenly lets out an enormous groan and slumps over, hunched in over himself. And Dys canât feel fear but his heartâs pounding anyways as he runs over, careful to keep an eye on their surroundings as he leans over and says, urgently, âSol, what --â
The moment his hand touches Solâs back Sol jumps, enough to send himself falling back on his ass in the dirt, eyes wide with surprise like he hadnât heard Dys sprinting towards him. âDys?â he sputters, before glancing around. âI thought -- I mean, donât you normally go on aheadâŚ?â
He doesn't look hurt at all, though on closer inspection thereâs bags under his eyes Dysâs never seen on his face before. âI mean,â says Dys, who canât bring himself to say I was worried about you, âyou were acting weird, soâŚ.â
âOh,â says Sol, before managing a tiny grin up at him. âThatâs⌠thatâs really nice of you. Thanks.â
âWhatever.â Ugh. He can feel his stupid face going red. The worst part is that he canât even leave, not with how Solâs smile is still wobbling at the edges. â...Are you okay?â
âOh, well, um⌠I mean, thatâsâŚ.â The smile slides off Solâs face piece by piece, until he gives up on it all at once and sighs miserably, pulling his knees in close until heâs curled up on himself in the dirt. âNo.â
Dys⌠canât even pretend to be surprised. Slowly he sits down next to Sol, watching as Sol leans forward to rest his chin on his arms, for once not even fidgeting. â...Itâs stupid,â says Sol, finally. âItâs really stupid, and youâre gonna think itâs stupid too. But⌠if I tell you⌠can you pretend you donât think it is? Just for like, ten minutes.â
This already sounds like itâs going to suck. â...Okay. I wonât⌠say anything, I guess.â
âThanks.â
The moment drags out. Dys picks a little at a hangnail, waiting. Finally, Sol sighs again, and doesnât quite look at Dys as he says, âCal and Tammy are dating.â
â...Oh.â
âHe told me on my birthday.â Sol tilts even further forward, until his face is buried in his arms, and with a muffled voice says, âLike, he knocked on the door and she was there and he had his hand on her back. And sheâd made me a cake, which was like, nice or whatever, but it was so unbearable just seeing them together and I just -- I just had to sit there and pretend I was happy for themâŚ.
âApparently she asked him out during Glow? Like, after the attack? And I saw them together in the lounge but I didnât even realizeâŚ.â There is, horrifyingly, a sniffing noise. âStupid⌠stupid Fennec Face. Sheâs not⌠sheâs not even that cute, and sheâs afraid of everything, and I⌠IâŚ.â
Another sniff. Dys is probably the person least equipped to deal with this in the entire colony, not in the least because he heard Cal was dating someone else and his first reaction was gratitude. â...Sorry,â he offers up, finally. âThat⌠that sucks.â
âYeah,â says Sol, as he burrows deeper into his arms. âI⌠I just⌠I really like him. Yâknow?â
Quietly, Dys answers, âI know.â
In response Sol just lets out this big shuddering sigh, somehow burrowing even deeper. âSorry,â he says. âI know itâs stupid. I⌠Sorry.â
Dys canât think of anything to say to that, canât think of a single thing that might make Sol feel a little better. Instead of trying anyways he just sits there like an idiot, keeping half an eye on the planet around them to make sure they donât get eaten by anything, and next to him Sol doesnât move for a long, long time.
#i like pining dys can u tell. can u tell#i also like Physical Skills Only Head Empty sol LMFAO#also ill be honest with u guys#the only reason i am posting this one is bc i have a High Comedy sequel but it does require this one being posted first#bracelet scene :) with this sol :) is so funny#guy who has zero reasoning whatsoever#oh side note for ppl who read my shit. this is the same sol that would propose to dys later on in life#guy who is a stupid romantic#anyways. they are stupid.#should i put this in the main tag or not..... im very lukewarm on this LMFAO#again. this is only here bc its Necessary Context for the other hting i Want to post#ehhhh might as well i guess. shrugs.#i was a teenage exocolonist#how do you writing#oh title is from 2023 by blue rain boots#chorus is 'is that the sun i see or am i just bein greedy / gonna fix myself so i'm not so fuckin needy' and lie#the guys voice is soooo nice i love the way he sings it wwwww its good vibes#OK THATS A LOT OF TAGS. as long as the ficlet itself.#anyways. feast my children.
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Why do I say things like this. Like what was the need. Why do I feel the need to jinx myself. What was the reason.
#lol just looking thru my drawings and i saw that tag#and im like YOU! ITS YOUR FAULT IM BURNT OUT! I BLAME YOU(catie from that specific day)#anyways trying to draw nando and ITS NOT GOING WELL YKNOW#i still really struggle with drawing real people#seb is okay bcs ive drawn him the most and like have stared at his face for hours so...familiar...yeah...#and i do in fact look at a fuckton of nando pics BUT GOD HIS FACE IS SO DIFFICULT#he just has very like odd features i guess. AND HES VERY HANDSOME FOR IT but god they do not lend to easy drawing#i miss oc drawing where theres no accuracy really required since its all from my head#not that im never drawing ocs again. theyre still my beloved but i dont rly have any ideas atm for them :<#wanna draw rßà as an f1 driver tbh bcs ive been maladaptive daydreaming about that for the past few weeks#but as you know im somewhat allergic to drawing racesuits đ#also im wondering if drawing chibis so much fucked up my sense of style bcs now i struggle sometimes w proportions#i just. dont want to be burnt out anymore. i know its something you cant really force yourself thru#and also that you shouldn't force yourself cause it just makes it worse but#idk. i wanna draw so badly đ and i do it and sometimes it works out and sometimes im just staring at the screen like. oh.#i want to also finish the pt 2 to the boy king ficlet. i always randomly add a few paragraphs to it#blah blah anyways just thinking. i feel a bit frustrated and unfufilled atm i guess#like that feeling in your chest of tightness. its the worst. i wanna throw something or break something i guess#PLEASE JUST LET ME DRAW MY PORTRAIT OF KING NANDO IM BEGGING#he'll be so pretty okay đđ i just cant get his fucking face right#ignore me ignore me. catie is: going through it#i miss the sense of urgency that drawing before my flight gave me#i like having that sense of incentive and deadline. like: you genuinely need to finish this right now.#if not then its me creating meaningless deadlines in my head that actually make me have worse burn out đ#i love how before texas im like i am going to finsih all my wips!! anf then finished exactly: zero#catie.rambling.txt
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love this, very funny, 10/10 amazing ficlet.
Iâve had this idea in my head for days now and it just wonât LEAVE so here have scraps
So we know those de-aged auâs with Danny right, and the ones where Jason adopts him? YESSSSSS so anyways the thing thatâs been ravaging my brain like an anteater on crystal meth is:
So all night has been pretty shit for Jason. Drug dealers, a couple muggings (who even goes out anymore in crime alley, at this time of night???????) and some human traffickers. You know, the usual. So anyways heâs pissed. Not to mention when he comes across some bastard whoâs beating his family, jason promptly broke his legs in a couple new ways he liked. Later, deep into the night heâs already seeing a bit of green around the edges and heâs already called in dick to cover some areas while he cools off, so, naturally, as it is in crime alley, something goes horribly wrong that gets him pissed. Beyond pissed. He sees green and only when dick drags him away does he see some red too. A lot of red.
Fuck.
Well, he knows exactly what he has to do, so he pushed dick off of him and starts roof-hopping over to his apartment (where did his bike go?) and dick calls in the others thinking Jasonâs going for more weapons/ammo or smthn, and Jason gets to his lil place and carefully opens a window, trying to be quiet because even though heâs in a killing mood he doesnât want to wake Danny up, what kind of monster would do that?
Anyways Jasonâs taking a moment with his helmet off, leaning his arms against the counter to calm himself down taking deep breaths he learned from Danny yes okay he learned from his son when Tim and dick crash through and Jason gets a little more pissed because those assholes probably just woke up Danny!
So hereâs Tim and dick wrestling with Jason to get his weapons off of him and calm him down when all of a sudden the lights flick on and thereâs a little boy, around 6, with a messy mop black hair and loose space-themed pajamas, rubbing his eyes as he clearly just woke up. everyone freezes in place and Danny looks around, his eyes adjusting to the light before he looks at Jason andâ
âDad? Whatâs going on?â He asks so innocently with a tilt of his head. While his brothers are stunned to silence Jason shrugs them off as hard as he can (they woke up his son) and walks over to Danny. Dick and tim lurch foreward but Jason just picks up Danny and places him on his hip. Danny reaches forward and carefully pulls off his dads domino and holds it in his hand while he frowns. âGreen monsters are being angry again?â And Jason just sighs with his son (his son!!) in his arms and looks at danny; dick and Tim now seeing the green almost completely gone from his eyes.
âYeah bud. No big deal though, alright? The green monsters are all gone now. So come on, itâs past your bedtime Danny.â To which Danny groans and he turns to look at the two others in the room who are bewildered as fuck because does Jason have a kid????? W h e n?? H o w??? Okay they know how they really donât but thatâs not the point
Anyways they stand there for a minute while Jason puts Danny to bed and when Jason comes back out he stares at them in silence. Then he just *sighs* and stares them dead in the eyes âyes, I have a kid. Yes, he quiets the pit. Yes, itâs past his bedtime. And yes,â Jason cocks his gun, âyou both will be getting out of my apartment. right now. Silently.â
Yeah, they guess questions can wait till tomorrow
#reblog#ah ok not a fic still fantastic though#I didn't realize this was an entire trope at this point I guess I'll have more to read though after this#context for the author of this post: i found art linking back to this and thought it was for a different fic not this ficlet#dont let this detract from how good your own work is however#i just happened to read the other first#i am DELIGHTED to find out that this is potentially a well explored trope in the fandoms#so thank you for writing this so well that someone got inspired to draw art for it /gen
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Stede scans his many shelves of books, brow furrowed in thought. "Let's see... what should I read for the crew tomorrow? I'd like to tackle The Odyssey, but it's so long and I may need to answer a lot of questions about the prose..."
Ed flops over with a groan, Stede had been at this for the past half hour and Ed was beginning to lose patience. "Just do the one about the lady with the evil step-sisters that chop off their toes to fit some glass shoes or something. Wee John likes that one."
"Ah, yes, that one gets a bit... grim." Stede casts a glance over his shoulder at Ed, noting his exaggerated sprawl, before making his way over to the chaise. "Are you really comfortable like that?"
Ed hums, his attempt to distract Stede from his walls of books evidently a success, "Don't know what you mean," he answers all innocence and nonchalance.
Stede sighs, "Alright, budge up you nut."
Mission Accomplished.
Part 1 of 2. Part 2
#ofmd sims#silliness#ficlet i guess?#look i built this whole ass captain's cabin i'm damn well going to use it#don't you have a fic to write biscuitlady?#shhhhh#i'm hoping this will get the creative juices flowing again#when does any of this take place?#who knows?
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What do we think happened when Mr. and Mrs. Collins showed up at Lady Catherine's house to drink tea and explained that Elizabeth stayed at home alone with a headache?
Did Darcy excuse himself immediately? That would have looked super suspicious, at least to Charlotte. Not that I think he would have cared if anyone guessed what he was going to do, because he was certain Elizabeth would say yes, so in his mind, they're all going to know about the proposal in like an hour anyway.
Or did Darcy drink tea with the group for maybe 10 minutes, hyping himself up to go proposeânow's your chance, you can do this!âand then abruptly be like "Well thanks for the tea! See ya!" and rush out of there? This would also be very confusing to his companions, though maybe not as suspicious. Is this more or less rude than excusing himself from tea right at the beginning? It seems more rude to my modern sensibilities, but who knows.
I feel another P&P missing scene ficlet coming on...
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a little Tommy & Chim bffs for @rileychester
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"Her ladyship requests, no demands, uncle Buck reading her a story before bed instead of her own mother." Maddie said, walking back into the livingroom after having gone to put Jee to bed half an hour ago.
"What can I say, it's not easy being this popular." Buck joked and extracted himself from where he'd been happily tucked under Tommy's arm on Maddie and Chimney's way too comfortable sofa. He quickly kissed Tommy, murmured something about being right back, and followed Maddie up to Jee's room.
Tommy watched him until he was out of the room and then turned back to Chim who was laughing at him.
"Damn Kinard you've got it bad."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Tommy said, trying to act somewhat cool and hide his reddening cheeks behind his wine glass.
"Yeah I'm sure you don't." Chim took a sip of his own drink. "I mean I love Maddie more than anything in the world, but I don't kiss her goodbye when she leaves the room."
"Well maybe you should start." Tommy told him. If he was getting called out, he might as well own it. "It's working pretty well for us."
"She'd probably think I was going crazy and call Hen to come check me over. Who would then also ask me if I'd lost my mind." He said and they both laughed. "But it's good to see you so happy, man. Both of you. Even if I never in a million years would have guessed that you two would end up together."
"Me neither really." Tommy admitted. "I actually almost let your call go to voicemail that night. My shift was almost over and there was bad weather coming in... I just wanted to go home and catch up on some sleep."
"And there was me asking you to steal a helicopter because of a hunch. I'm sure Bobby is still very grateful you didn't ignore me." Chim said and raised his glass at him. "To team who cares!"
Tommy clinked his glass against Chim's.
"Bobby isn't the only one who's grateful. If I hadn't answered that call, i would have missed out on the greatest thing that ever happened to me. i wouldn't have met the love of my life. I wouldn't be here now. I might have downloaded that dating app again that I'd deleted off my phone a few days before or taken Lucy up on her offer to set me up with her friend." Tommy shook his head. "I'm just glad I did answer. it definitely changed my life for the better."
"You're getting sappy in your old age, Kinard." Chimney teased. "When is the wedding? Do I have time to buy a hat?" he joked, expecting Tommy to laugh with him. Only when he didn't say anything Chim really looked at him. "What? Tell me you didn't..."
"I asked Evan to marry me last night." Tommy told him after a beat. "He said yes."
Chimney blinked a few times to process the information.
"Of course he said yes! He's just as crazy about you as you are about him." he got up to hug his friend. "Welcome to the family, man. We'll officially be brothers."
Tommy smiled and finished the last of his wine.
"There is one thing I wanted to talk to you about though..."
"Shoot."
"When Evan and I get married... will you be my best man?"
"It would be the greatest honour of my life."
---
Send me a prompt and I'll write you a ficlet!
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Sore
Logan Howlett x Reader
Minors, do NOT interact.
A/N: More of my Wolvie because my creative side rests in him atm. Based on the fact that my back literally is brokeback mountain and my legs feel like I took that cowboy up on his offer for five hours after saving his horse atm 𤣠also, domestic smut is SO underrated.
Anyway, all interaction, especially commentary is heavily appreciated! Enjoy!
Cw: Loganâs helping you feel less sore, things get steamy. Fluffy and spicy, domestic!Logan.
P.S: Want more of Logan? Check out my headcanons and/or feel free to submit an ask for a Drabble or Ficlet. :> You want daddy dom Logan? I gotchu. You want Logan to watch, idk, Cars with you?? I gotchu. Just nothing too dark or too crazy, please. Anonymous or not, feel free to drop your thoughts/thots!
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You had flopped down on the your big ass bed the moment youâd gotten home from the gym. For whatever reason you had thought it would be a good idea to overdo it both today and yesterday, and now your legs and back were suffering the consequences.
So here you are, lying face down, starfish style. You barely remembered to kick off your nasty shoes and socks. Havenât showered, havenât pulled the comforter down. Just lying there in your misery as the pain in your legs chooses to linger.
You had to have been lying there for about ten minutes when youâre finally ready to get up, but then you hear the door open.
âY/N?â Logan calls, having just got home from work apparently. Itâs about eight at night, this is very early for him.
âBedroom,â you call back weakly.
You hear his light footsteps pattering towards you. If you hadnât been together as long as you had you wouldnât be able to hear him because of how stealth he is.
âAw, sweets, whatâs wrong?â he asks as he walks into the bedroom.
âSore,â you mumble, giving him another one word answer.
âWhy?â he prods, in a somewhat lilting tone that implies he knows exactly why.
âCause I overdid it,â you say begrudgingly. He was the one who warned you not to, and you could all but sense the smirk that had to be on his face right now. âIf you say âI told you soâ Iâm going to smother you,â you threaten as a follow up.
âDo it with that pretty cunt of yours and weâll call it even.â Cheeky, as always. You groan in response, and not in a sexy way, even though his dirty words donât fail to make your core feel a little warmer. âAlright alright. Can I try to make you feel better?â
âPlease.â Your voice is slightly whiny as the ache in your legs is starting to get unbearably annoying.
âAww, sugar,â he tuts, kissing you on the top of your head. âJust give me one second.â
He disappears momentarily, reappearing with some Advil and lemonade for you to drink it with. He sets the pair on the nightstand.
âIâm gonna sit you up, okay?â
âWait-â you protest, before gasping âow!â as he uses his trying arms to hold you up, resting your back against your plush pillows and headboard. He sits in front of you, draping your calves over the tops of his thighs.
âHere,â he hands you the lemonade and Advil.
âThanks. Wait- tell me about your day,â you prod, before swallowing the pill and the drink down.
âOh, you really are sweet on your old man, ainâtcha,â he grins, flattening out the random wisps of hair that had escaped your updo. You smile sweetly at him, before downing the rest of the glass.
âWell, I went to stop some guy from stealing an old ladyâs purse, but by the time I got over there she was smacking him over the head with it.â
âWhat in the Tom and Jerry?â you laugh incredulously.
âI swear it! In my too-many years Iâve never seen anything like that.â God, you could never grow tired of seeing Logan like this. Giggly, tired, relaxed. Itâs so nice.
âItâs the thought that counts, I guess,â I offer.
âYeah, until Granny knocks it out of you,â he quips, and we both laugh. âSo, where are you hurting?â
âMy legs and my back. Shouldnât have done the extra set of the one where you close your legs on the thing,â I tell him.
âWhatâre you wearing under this?â he asks, motioning to you. Youâre wearing a sports tank and shorts, and underneathâŚ
âGirlâs boxers and a sports bra.â
âAttagirl. Mind if I strip you down to those? Less layers makes it easier for me to dig into you.â
âYou ask that as if you donât fuck me almost every night,â you quip, the affirmation plain in your voice.
âAnd almost every morning and afternoon, but whoâs counting?â he retorts with a mischievous grin. This is true- even after so many years of being together the two of you still canât keep your hands off of each other.
âDonât forget about evenings,â you add.
He gasps melodramatically, -âI could never.â-before tugging off your shorts. You sigh contentedly, glad to be free of your fabric confines. He then gently eases off your shirt so that, true to his word, youâre only in your undergarments.
âCan you lay on your stomach for me?â he asks.
âMhm,â you slowly move from your spot amidst the pillows, slowly but surely. The pain doesnât get enough time to build as much as before, and just rests at the same throbbing as before. You hear Logan rummaging in the nightstand.
âShit, sorry, baby. I thought I had bought more of that lavender oil, but I forgot,â he says apologetically.
âDonât worry about it, your hands are more than enough already,â you tell him.
âOh yeah?â Logan turns any words he can into a double entendre, itâs his sense of humor.
âIâm surprised you donât have a rabbit mutation,â you laugh, referring to his persistent and ever present horniness.
âDo I look like a rabbit to you?â he asks gruffly, still joking. You feel the bed dip from behind you under his weight.
âYou are pretty cute,â you tell him.
âBut a rabbit?â he asks, incredulousness in his voice.
âMayb-ohh,â your words are broken off as his surprisingly gentle hands start kneading your calves.
âOhh,â he imitates, pressing deeper. God it feels good- hurts on contact, but then completely alleviates the pressure.
âShut up,â you try to say through your soft moans of pleasure.
âThatâs gonna be a no, sugar,â you can hear the overconfidence in his voice, and it doesnât even bother you because of how much better youâre feeling.
âOw-,â you whisper as he presses on a particularly painful spot in the inside of your leg.
âThatâs it, huh?â
You meekly hum in response as he takes initiative to continue pressing on it, digging into it with his thumbs.
Eventuakly he has you feeling like putty, all comfortable untilâŚ
âOh, come on!â you say indignantly as he flips you over. You feel the dull pain in your legs ignite again, and you already know what heâs about to make you do.
âI know, but you know you need to stretch,â he chides, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, because he knows damn well how inflexible you are, especially when youâre sore.
You stick your tongue at him to no avail. He grabs your thigh, squeezing it before beginning to push it back. The dull pain immediately intensifies.
âF-fuck you!â you squeak as he pushes your thigh back further, your knee nearing your shoulder. You clutch Pookie as tight as you can to your chest. The words are directed more to the pain than him, but he canât help but tease you, naturally.
âIs that nice?â he chastises lightly, the smile plain on his lips as he holds you in place. You can feel your muscles screaming from the soreness, but the position does seem to be alleviating the pressure some.
âNo,â you pout guiltily, not wanting to seem ungrateful to him.
âIâm kidding,â his voice softens as he presses my leg back further.
âOw!â you whine, the additional pressure making your leg impossibly more sore.
âEasy, sweet girl,â he reassures me, massaging the back of my thigh as he holds it in place. He grabs the lone stuffed animal that rests amongst your too-many pillows and blankets. Itâs an okapi, his name is Pookie. However, Logan calls him âAbomination,â because the first time you showed him a picture of one thatâs what he called it. You always get miffed about him calling it that, so he adamantly makes sure to do so, even though heâs the one that bought it for you on a whim. Go figure.
âHow about you hold A-Bomb? Will that make you feel better?â
âIt will if you call him by the right name,â you tell him, sass in your voice. He grins- for whatever reason he finds it extremely amusing to annoy you.
âBut his name is Abomination,â Logan insists, momentarily distracting you from putting down your leg before picking up your more sore one.
âNo itâs not,â you protest, before literally squeaking from how bad it hurts to have the other leg pushed back.
âFine, itâs not,â he says gently, handing you the stuffed animal with his free hand as he keeps your leg pinned back. You squeeze it as he pushers further, holding it for what feels like fifteen years but in reality is probably all of fifteen seconds.
Slowly you start feeling better, that is until he drops your leg and grabs both this time.
âLogan, no, Iâm already stretched out, I feel better-,â you try, but as always, he knows better. He lifts both legs up, and however much better you were feeling is immediately ruined because your lower back is being added to the equation.
âOw!â you whine, trying to wriggle free from his grasp to no avail. Damn his super strength. Your back is all but shrieking at you now.
âI seem to recall you being able to do this,â Logan says smugly. And you immediately clench on nothing, because you know exactly what heâs referring to.
âWell youâre not exactly dicking me down right now, are you?â Usually when your legs are over his shoulders like this itâs because heâs ploughing into you like itâs your last night on earth. And the memories are vivid- he always makes damn sure of that. The sweat on his brow, his filthy vocabularyâŚ.
Okay, youâre wet now.
âDicking you down?â he laughs. âWhat are you, Wade?â
âSuddenly Iâm not turned on anymore,â I roll my eyes. The Merc with a Mouth may just about exclusively talk about sex, but somehow itâs never sexy. Maybe it has something to do with the fact he still has the brain of a thirteen year old. Who knows.
âMmm, letâs see about that,â he murmurs, tossing your stuffed animal to the side and dropping your legs down, to your relief. He tugs at your boxer shorts, looking you in the eye for consent. You nod, and he takes no time at all to slide them down your pretty legs. âLooks pretty turned on to me,â he says gravelly as he looks at your cunt.
âMhm,â you agree, your voice wanton and low.
He knows exactly what you like, and neither of you is surprised by the shiver your elicits from you as he runs a knuckle through your slick folds.
One of the things about being with Logan is anything can be sexy, and by association, turn into sex. You donât mind at all- you match his freak, if you will- but it is easy to marvel at how random it can be.
Some days itâs just your morning chatter- youâll be talking about who knows what, maybe a movie youâve seen, maybe your plans for the day. And then youâll straddle him to get him to focus on you, because heâs always sleepy and slow in the morning. Before you know it heâll have his hands on your hips, easing you up and down on his cock.
Other times itâll be you two silently reading on the couch, legs crossed over one another because you canât go a second without touching. Once one of you gets bored, itâs over for the other. If itâs he who gets bored but youâre still invested in your book, heâll have you cockwarm him and finish your book. Sometimes itâs the other way around, but because youâre so needy youâll usually be bouncing on him before he can finish and who is he not to do as you wish?
Itâs always something. And one of those somethings apparently him helping you stretch,, which is a new one because usually you pass out after he contorts you like that.
After getting you ready for him, which really doesnât take long since youâre almost always wet for him when youâre in his vicinity, he pulls down his sweats and his own boxers just enough to expose his dick.
But, because heâs Logan, and heâs annoying, he grabs the backs of your thighs with a mischievous grin, and before you even realize what heâs doing he presses both of your legs back. It really doesnât hurt as bad, especially when he leans down to kiss you so passionately and all-consumingly that your mind clouds over.
âYou ready fâme?â he asks, as if he doesnât know that you are.
âYeah, baby. Yeah,â you breathe. âJust go slow, please.â
âI promise, sweet girl,â he kisses you again, aligning himself with your entrance. âGod, I love you,â he whispers as he watches himself slide into you with ease.
âI love you too,â tell him through a gasp, kissing his nose. âPlease donât make me more sore.â You have to reiterate that you want him to be slow, because while Logan is the sweetest, most considerate lover you could have, sometimes he canât help but overdo it.
He laughs, not one to deny your imploring. âIâve got you.â He bottoms out slowly, resting inside of you before pushing just a little bit more, hitting a spot that feels so good that it brings tears to your eyes. Youâre so, so full of him, you can feel every twitch. This angle, painful as it may be, lets him get so wonderfully deep inside you. Itâs a wonder you hadnât tried this sooner.
âOh, Logan,â you breathe, leaning into his touch as he kisses over your collarbone.
âGood, huh?â he says somewhat cockily, slowly pulling out of you before bottoming back out, hitting that impossible spot again. It feels so good that you canât even think of something to say in response. âThought so,â he smiles, kissing you on the nose. His voice has gonna somewhat breathy, but he still continues his steady, slow pace. The sounds that fill the room are gentle, with soft sighs and grunts and the occasional moan of one or the otherâs name. And itâs perfect.
It feels so good that you feel tears slipping down your cheeks, and he leans down to kiss them away. âI know, sweet girl. I know.â His tone is soft, and it prompts you to further bury yourself in your fluffy comforter and pillows as he slowly coaxes a release out of me. He kisses you, slow but passionate as his fingers start to circle your clit in the way you like. The circles are much faster than his thrusts, and the sensation of the contrast in paces is absolutely delicious.
Logan loves having you like this- soft and sweet, in no rush. Your legs strewn haphazardly over his shoulders, squeezing him every time he nudges the head of his cock that extra inch inside of you. He loves to kiss you, to talk you through it. He loves you.
âYouâre taking me so well, beautiful. You always do,â he coos, adding more pressure to your sensitive bud. You only whimper in response as your orgasm starts to build. He can feel it, hell, he can smell it. That sweet smell thatâs so uniquely yours, that heâs so addicted to. âYou gonna cum fâme? Make a mess all over this big dick?â he asks, knowing full well how much of a mess his dirty words make of you. You nod ever so slightly, youâre entire body on fire from how good it feels.
Your legs tighten around his head as you cum, and itâs perfect. The pleasure is immense, intense enough to make you close your eyes as he keeps his same pace, drawing it out longer than ever. âLogan?â you whisper once you catch your bearings.
âYeah?â he asks, still moving slowly and hitting that perfect spot. His voice is slightly strained, you can tell he wants to cum.
âCum in me, please,â you ask with your best doe eyes.
âGladly, sugar,â he kisses you again, coming with just a few more thrusts as you clench around him as tightly as you can. âFuck,â he mumbles, biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder and darkening what may as well be a permanent mark from him. He always bites in the same spot. He lets your legs down but stays inside you, panting as he holds you close. Eventually he pulls out, and you whine from the loss of contact, feeling your mixed releases slip out of you.
âYou feeling better?â he asks, laying on his side as you do the same.
âYeah. Thank you so much,â you tell him.
âAnything for you, gorgeous. Iâve heard that a good orgasm releases tension.â
âIs that so?â
âOh yeah,â he grins.
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âCouldnât agree more,â he hugs you close.
âWaiiiit I need to shower,â you complain, trying to push him away.
âIn a minute,â he counters, nuzzling his face in your neck and squeezing you tighter.
Thatâs definitely the biggest lie he could have told you, because you both knew damn well it would be more than a minute. And even when you do get out of bed- sorry, Pookie!- thereâs always room for showers and post-shower sex. You donât make the rules, it just happens. And with your luck youâll probably be sore tomorrow, and youâll probably have asked for it.
What can you say? Youâre just a girl, after all. A girl who loves her guy, whose guy loves her.
Fin! Xx.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine fluff#wolverine smut
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could be
Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader
this ficlet is brought to you by @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my assigned color was "pretty clicker" (which tbh idk if we needed to include the color but I did anyway lol).
genre: pwp (I tried my best) prompt: "whoa, that's a new one."
words: 1.7k
summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.
warnings: pwp, oral (m&f receiving), handjob, fingering, joel and reader are astoundingly bad at emotions, a few playful spanks, tommy makes an off-screen cameo, old man joel my beloved, antics, absolutely no proofreading or beta reading whatsoever rip sorry
dividers by @saradika-graphics
âWhoa, thatâs a new one,â drawls the man as he steps out of the shadow of the copse. â If it ainât the prettiest little clicker Iâve ever seen.âÂ
You scowl, tugging the hat off, boot scuffing the dirt as you grind the frustration of being caught out into the soil. It gives with some difficulty, the late autumnâs early frost already turning the ground to stone. âShut up, Joel,â you mutter.Â
âThat always work for ya? How havenât you gotten shot yet?â He says, jerking his head down at the ball cap youâve adorned with the decapitated clickerâs face.
(Or should you say disembodied? Dessicated? Desecrated? Whatever, you cut the fucking mushrooms off a dead fucker and stuck them on a hat. The terms donât matter.)Â
âYep. Not too many fools out here who will go looking for a clicker when they hear one.â
âItâs a good impression, darlinâ, but itâs not quite enough to trick me.â Heâs drawn close, maybe too close, and curls two fingers under your chin, drawing your gaze to his grizzled face.Â
You roll your eyes. âYou a clicker whisperer or something?âÂ
His lips curl. âNot quite, no.â He lets his hand fall from your chin, and you watch it go.Â
When you look back up at his face, youâre caught. Trapped. His grin is solemn, as if he, too, feels the snare.
âYou got somewhere to stay tonight?â he says, instead of acknowledging the way youâve drawn a breadth closer.Â
âSure do,â you drawl.Â
He chuckles. âAlright, keep your secrets. But, uhâmy back ainât what it used to be, so the forest floor ainât gonna work for me today.â
Your lips curl. âPresumptuous, are we?â
âYouâre lookinâ at me like a piece of meat, sweetheart.â
âWell, ainâtcha?â
âGuess you must be desperate, then, âfâyouâre back for an old man like me.â
âGuess so,â you hum and give in. âHow dâyou always find me?â
âHmm, donât you worry âbout that, alright? All you gotta know is that I do always find you, and Iâve got some of Tommyâs peanut butter cookies in my bag for ya.â
âMy hero,â you press one hand over your heart while the other makes the universal âgimmieâ gesture at his backpack.Â
âCould be, yâknow,â he mumbles.Â
You both ignore the slip. He rifles around in the bag and pulls out a tin. You try to snatch it from him, but he pulls away with a wagging finger.Â
âNope, not yet,â he says with a teasing lilt, his drawl drawing out. He hands you one precious sweet and tucks the rest back into his bag. âIf I give it to you now, youâll just run off, and then whatâll I have?â
âA sense of satisfaction from being kind?â
You share a laugh at your joke as he leads you not to the safe âhouseâ but up to the old, creepy lodge you avoid like the plague. Or. Well. Like the Infected.Â
âCalm down, I already cleared it,â he says with a roll of his eyes. âItâs got a real bed, though, sweetheart, so I can take my time with ya.â
âYou mean so you donât break a knee fuckinâ me over a log?â
âIt didnât break. Jesus. How old do you take me for?â
âOld as shit,â you mutter.Â
He just grins.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âNothinâ. You just get brattier the longer youâre away. Ainât got any good cock back home?â
âShut up,â you grumble, but itâs close to the truth. Thereâs cock back home, sure, but then youâd have to fuck one of those losers, and you just know Joelâs ruined you.Â
Ruined you with intent and precision, and now heâs taking you by the hand and leading you up into the lodgeâs dusty halls and into what must have once been a nice guest room.Â
You whistle. âDid you clean this just for me?â You ask, batting your lashes.Â
âIf I say yes, you gonna be sweet for me?â
âYou wouldnât know what to do with me if I was.â
âYeah, youâre right,â he says, lying down on the bed with his hands behind his head. âSo get your ass up here.â
You quickly shimmy out of your sweats and climb up to straddle him, but his grin splits wider in a lecherous stretch.Â
âYou think I brought you here for you to ride me? Yâcan do that shit in the woods. Get up here.â
You hesitate. âI live in a fucking camp, Joel.â The âwithout running waterâ bit is obvious but unspoken.
âI do not give a shit,â he says bluntly. âGet up here.â
âYour funeral,â you say with a shrug, and let him help you settle over his face. Youâre barely steady when he grabs your hips and pulls, bringing you to meet him.Â
Itâs been⌠longer than you can even remember, and oh shit. Either your memory hasnât done this justice, or the last man to eat you out was fuckinâ terrible because this is nothing like youâve ever known.Â
But he doesnât dive in and rush it. He doesnât go straight to sucking on your clit; he doesnât push three fingers into your cunt to work you open for his cock.Â
Oh, no. Youâve been had, you think. This setup was an elaborate trap to wipe your mind clean and replace everything with thoughts of him. Heâs brought you here to the second closest place of safety he knows so he can take his fuckinâ time with you.Â
His hands are gentle on you, and he nuzzles into your mound to part your folds, his wide nose pushing between to seek out his prize. The tip of his tongue pushes out to help, tracing the tiny slit of your cunt. At the first taste of you, he groans, drawn out and filthy.Â
âShit,â he pants, hot breath scattering across the soft peaks and valleys. âItâs been too goddamn long.â He seems to be talking to himself, which is good because you canât wrangle more than a tangled gasping whimper in response.Â
He brings his hands up underneath you to grip your inner thighs, pulling to spread you more so he can watch you start to glisten. âAtta girl,â he murmurs, nuzzling back in to lap it up. âMmm, baby, is all this for me?â
âShoulda known you wouldnât shut up,â you mutter, even though youâre addicted to his filthy mouth most of the time.
âShut me up then,â he says in a way you simply cannot refuse.Â
You grind down on his face, expecting protest, but he moans in a way you can only classify as slutty. He buries his face between your thighs with a growl and gets to work.Â
You can barely hold yourself up after the first orgasm he coaxes from you, all powerful tongue and gentle lips.Â
âYâainât quittinâ on me, are ya?â He taunts.Â
âI thought you were gonna shut up.âÂ
He smacks your ass. âTurn around.â
When you do, he pushes you down to lay on him. âGet nice and cozy with my cock, sweetheart, âcause I ainât done with you yet.â
You take the invitation but before you can pull him free from his jeans, heâs diving back into his personal all you can eat buffet and showing no sign of slowing.Â
Eventually, you manage to pry his ridiculous monster cock from its denim confines and try, really try, to focus on it, but itâs so hard (you giggle as you tell him) when he keeps doing that thing with his teeth and your clit. After the third time, you find yourself just moaning and drooling around it; you give up and rest your head on his thigh, content to hold it in your hand and lick.Â
He spanks you again. âDonât be a tease.â
You try to protest, but he bests you by attempting to suck your soul out of your clit while hammering two thick fingers against your g-spot, and itâs all over for your brain. Poor thing never stood a chance against Joel anyway.Â
You squirm away from the menace when he attempts to keep going and smack him in the face with a pillow when he whines. He wipes his beard on it and throws it back at you.Â
You canât hold back your questions now that youâre back up and running. âHow dâyou have the time for this?âÂ
âHmm?â Joel grunts, a hand tugging lazily at his dick while he surreptitiously slides his hand down the length of your thigh and back up.Â
You turn on your back, swatting his hand away. âYouâre usually in a rush.â
He turns a little pink. âDonât matter.â
âUh, it clearly does. Iâm asking.â
âWell, itâs nunya.â
You groan. âThink I liked it better when you were too busy eating me out to talk.â
âNow you know how I feel.â
You throw the cum-stained pillow back at him but miss by an embarrassing overshot. It arcs over him and into the floor between his side of the bed and the wall.Â
You shrug. âGone forever,â you say and throw an arm over your eyes dramatically.Â
Itâs a good thing, too, since the pillow hits you in the face.Â
âIâm on watch here,â he says once you stop screeching indignantly.Â
âWell, youâre not doing a very good job of it,â you let him know solemnly.Â
âAinât alone. MâbrotherâTommy,â he clarifies unnecessarily, âSâhere too. Heâs got it handled.â
âOh my god, did you ask your brother to cover for you so you could get laid?â
He shrugs. âWhy not?â
âAw, Miller. You really know how to make a girl feel special,â you drawl.Â
He plays it off with another eye roll and scoffs, but the thing isâyou know. He stopped asking you to think about moving to Jackson a long time ago. But slowly, heâs been taking you closer and closer to town when you meet up.Â
And youâre pretty sure heâs using Tommyâs cookies as a reward. Each time he lures you closer, he brings more treats the next time. Youâd be mad at the absolute gall, but⌠itâs not not working, so you only have yourself to blame.
When you catch his eye again, he makes a point to hold your gaze and draw it down to his leaking cock, and you know he knows. You wonât go with him, so heâll have you here. Jackson is not your home. But that quiet drawl in your head that sounds unnervingly similar to the man sprawled before you whispers, it could be.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us fic#fic: joel drabble#fic: could be
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I threatened to write something for Butchlander week and well... I have written, uh, something. *skulks back into the abyss*
Written to accompany this wonderful art I commissioned from @semains whom I love dearly-- thank you for indulging my requests for setting and exact pose as well! Commission them!
Butchlander Week NSFW Saturday prompt: Roleplay/Roles. Because it might be the role of a lifetime for Butcher, but you know Homelander is having the time of his life pretending he can't escape / pretending it hurts sooo much.
(yeah, double dipping) Cozy Corner Kinktober prompt #5 Buttplug (sort of. I can't explain myself. I have no excuses. It might be disturbing, so apologies in advance. Pure Id, aka wtf).
My header is getting longer than the ficlet, gdi
"Harder." Homelander's tone is haughty and whiny all at onceâ so grating that Butcher wishes he could deliver on the request. Who'd have thought that this grandiose straightedge little cunt would get so hard having a stranger smack him over and over? Who'd ever guess that this supe celebrityâ maybe the world's most famous person, and definitely the darling of the American publicâ would be into this kind of shit behind closed doors? That he wouldn't be bloody ashamed of himself whisking Butcher off to his bizarrely decorated apartment every single night. Bypassing all of Vought security, so that Vought's public enemy number⌠if not #1 then at least top 10⌠could make himself comfortable sitting on his bed. Not all that comfortable, since the bed is a strange upholstered leather number and stiff as hell, but Butcher supposes a supe might not feel the difference between this and a Tempur-Pedic.
He brings him here every night, and every night the script stays largely the same. Homelander plies him with some alcohol, sometimes a glass of whiskey, but more often just a bottle of Heineken. Butcher sits down, Homelander eagerly drapes himself over his lap, pulls and folds his cape underneath him, as if he doesn't trust Butcher enough to spread it out next to him. wiggling his hips, insisting Butcher pull down his pants and spank him. And Butcher obliges every time, even though it's clearly hurting his hands much more than it hurts Homelanderâ they alternate sides every night but Butcher suspects he already has stress fractures that don't heal because his hands ache all the time and never quite recover between sessions. But despite the pain, and despite the very little to no pain he's actually inflicting on the spoiled brat who always asks to be hit harder, there's just something irresistible about it. About finally being allowed to take out his aggression on the man he hates most in the world. The man he hates most in the world, who also happens to have a surprisingly perky ass that jiggles hypnotically if you hit it hard enough and just right, so Butcher hits him with his full strength not because of the cunt's whiny demands, but because he just wants to see the flesh wobble.
"I said harder!" Homelander's voice cuts through Butcher's thoughts, and Butcher can't help it any longer.
"You want me to hit you harder, you're gonna have to find a paddle."
Homelander's breath hitches and he says nothing in reply. No, this sick cunt clearly craves skin on skin contact to get off, Butcher already knows this, which is why he knew what to threaten him with to get him to shut up.
But he does wish he could hurt him. The achy joints of his hand plead he stop. Butcher stares down at the well defined muscular globes, skin turned a nice blush color where he's been hit but Butcher wishes he could turn it black and blue. Purple and green. He wants the cunt to really feel the intensity he's supposedly asking for, just to prove how wrong he is.
"I'm waiting," Homelander reminds him.
"Just taking a breather, alright? Enjoying the view." Butcher tries to squeeze a handful of flesh, but it's never as soft as it looks. "Look like one of 'em marble statues you got out in your lounge area."
Butcher hears Homelander's breath hitch and sees him take a peek at the mirror above, clearly checking himself out. This is all a game to him. It flatters his vanity that Butcher does this for him. Butcher would like nothing more than to turn this around on him, make it less of a game and more of an actual punishment.
A strange idea creeps in. Butcher leans back to reach for the Heineken bottle he emptied earlier and put on the nightstand, always on a coaster Homelander insists he use. God forbid he get a water ring on the antique looking furniture, with the creepy little cameo portraits of people who died last century. The beer is mostly just to take the edge off before Homelander lies down over his legsâ he and Homelander mutually figured out the session goes better if he's slightly buzzed and maybe just a little numb to the pain in his hand. And they figured this out because Homelander happened to whisk him away right after he stumbled out of a bar on a late Saturday night, after which point Butcher understood that Homelander would come and find him wherever he wasâ even if he wasn't at home past midnight. It's sexual slavery, is what it is. Butcher would resent it more if he didn't somewhat enjoy getting to beat this cunt on a nightly basis before being dropped off at home.
Homelander shifts, growing impatient while waiting for another round of spanking to start after the breather. "Come on!" he says through gritted teeth, and he sounds angry, and fucking self-righteous, as if he's complaining about customer service he's paid for. It's not Butcher's fault that the cunt only seems to come after he's gotten spanked for minutes straight, at some point his body finally deciding that this is such an enjoyable moment that his hips start grinding forward into Butcher's leg and he comes, the same pathetic little hitched moan escaping his lips every time, the same toe-curling Butcher can see because the cunt does take off his boots to lie on the bed. Thank god he never pulls his pants far down enough, because he never gets any jizz on Butcher's jeans. Homelander seems to think Butcher doesn't notice, or at least they both pretend they haven't. As if Butcher can avoid noticing his leg being humped violently, wondering if this is the night the cunt breaks one of his limbs out of pure excitement. As if it's not clear what just happened from the flushed face and glazed over eyes the supe has when he rises off the bed, finally satisfied. But if no one tells and no one asks, it didn't necessarily happen, and both seem content to keep it at that. Homelander takes a quick shower and suit change before dropping Butcher off at his apartment, without any further ceremony or pleasantries, and by morning Butcher is half in denial about any of it even happening.
"Are you fucking deaf? Why did you stop?" Homelander says and starts to turn his head to look back at him, but Butcher shoves his face back to face forward.Â
They have an unspoken agreement not to look each other in the eye when they're doing this, ever. Homelander almost broke the agreement, but obediently looks away again after the lightest push.
"Shut your fucking trap already. I heard you the first ten times just fine," Butcher growls under his breath, and his mind is made up about what he was hesitating to do. He forces the neck of the empty bottle into the cunt's tight crack, moving it around, looking for give.
Homelander's back arches, clearly not expecting the sensation. "The fuck are you doing?"
"GIving you something harder, like you were whining for, you spoiled brat." Butcher gives up doing it blindly and pulls one of the cheeks towards him. "Now where's your fucking chocolate starfish? You even have one?" And as if to punctuate that last word, Butcher finds the place and breaks the initial resistance resistance, the bottle neck beginning a slow slide in.
Homelander breathes harder. "I don't like it," he mutters, and his ass flexes in protest.
"You better like it and accept it, or else you're going to end up with a pile of glass shards inside you."
Butcher is skeptical that glass could really do anything to this supe's internal organs, but it seems Homelander wants to avoid the mess anyway, and his muscles relax.
"That's right. Now stop whining and take your punishment."
He tries to push the bottle in even further, feeling more and more protest.
"I don't like it," Homelander repeats, sharply this time, as if it means something.
"You ain't supposed to like it," Butcher says and decides to finally smack him on the ass with his other hand after keeping him waiting. Butcher doesn't anticipate that Homelander's body will convulse, shatter the bottle, grind into him, and come all at once.
"The hell was that?" Butcher asks, pulling back the jagged bottle's bottom half that survived. Homelander's body is still twitching underneath him and he's panting. Maybe this was going to be it. Butcher overstepped the line. Homelander was probably immersed in some unresolved childhood trauma or fantasy or whatever the fuck about having a father figure who would discipline him with a firm but loving hand. This must have ended the illusion for him. Maybe enough that Butcher is about to meet his endâ sometimes it's hard to remember that the whimpering quivering pathetic mess draped over his knees is the selfsame terrifying force of nature that can take out an entire army if he ever just chose to do so.
But the cunt won't even pick his head up. He's buried his face in the crook of his elbow. Is he fucking crying? Butcher wonders for a second if it's possible that he's actually fucking done it. Actually hurt him. Maybe a plug of C4 won't kill him but maybe it'll make him feel the hurt? A whole assortment of images races through Butcher's mind. He wants to try everything now. His crowbar, a bat studded with rusty nails, maybe the same bottle but a Molotov cocktail this time. Payback for thinking he can just force Butcher to indulge him, to make every night about getting him off. This opens up a whole new world of possibilities.
But Homelander stirs and starts to sit up, and Butcher winces and his teeth are set on edge when he can hear the crunching sound of glass grinding against glass, and tiny green shards start dropping out of him as Homelander tilts to sit back on his heels.
"That wasâ amazingâŚ" Homelander whispers, breathless. His hands are folded demurely in his lap as if he didn't just orgasm to being diddled with a bottle of Heineken. "You want another beer?"
"No!" Butcher says, sounding more emphatic and more disturbed than he intendedto let on. "No, you sick fuck."
"Does your hand hurt?" Homelander asks, and it's without any impatience in his tone, maybe even a note of real sympathy, completely ignoring the insult just lobbed at him. Before Butcher knows what's happening, Homelander leans down and licks the hand that had just been spanking him. Butcher jerks it away defensively, but Homelander follows it licking it, laving each finger with his tongue before leaning into it with his brow ridge, then his nose, rubbing himself into it. It feels soothing and takes away some of the sore feeling, Butcher is loath to admit.
But he needs to regain what little control he has in this arrangement. "You want me to pet ya? Then lie back where you belong," he says. It's gratifying to see the supe cunt immediately obey him. He stretches himself back into his former position, and Butcher kneads the flesh of his ass.
"We can do the bottle again if your hands hurt," Homelander says, sighing contentedly and breaking the ruleâ looking back at Butcher with a look that is disturbingly similar to fondness.
"We can," Butcher agrees, trying to ignore the glass that's spilled out on the sheets and forget the crunching sound the bottle made when it snapped in half at the neck.
(AO3 link)
#butchlander#butchlander week#cozy corner kinktober#fanart#billy butcher#homelander#tw .... glass?#unsafe you-know-what practices#the boys tv#the boys#commission#written on mobile please excuse any errors#cozy corner kinktober 2024
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Bby siren SJ & spoiled kid SYÂ
I cleaned up a ficlet from a sprint I did with @danmeichael while ago! Cw implied murder & cannibalism (none depicted, just normal siren stuff)
"My parents said I'm not supposed to get in the water," The young humanâ Shen Yuan, he called himselfâ explained with patience but no small amount of self-importance, as though Shen Jiu was the one being difficult and the human was being the bigger person by humoring him.Â
"I can't play on land" Shen Jiu said with a put-upon pout, flicking his tail above water-- the small, short glimpses of his shiny scales were usually enough to beckon the human children closer. They were, in all honesty, usually quite easy to trick. Safer, tooâ even if humans were softer and weaker, Shen Jiu was still far too small to over-power an adult. When it had been the two of them, he and Qi-ge had been able to catch larger prey, but nowâ well now, Shen Jiu had to look out for himself, and that meant smaller kills, even if he had to venture much much closer to shore than he would have liked.
âWe could, um,â the human paused, âI guess you canât have games or books underwaterâŚâ he trailed off for a moment, before his face lit up with a charming smile. âI can read to you! I can read chapter books now,â the boy said with great aplomb, as though it should mean anything to Shen Jiu, âwait here, Iâll go get one from my parents!â
"NO!" Shen Jiu cried out. If the boy left, there was no guarantee he would return, or worse, he might come back with his kin trailing behind him. Shen Jiu hadn't eaten in weeks; he couldn't allow this chance to slip through his fingers.
Shen Yuan blinked at him, and then sat back down on the rocks, his cross legs out of reach of the lapping waves. Still not close enough for Shen Jiu to drag him under before the other humans heard his screams. Then, miraculously, and without any further beckoning the boy leaned closer. Shen Jiu's body tensed, tracking the movement, waiting for the boy to reach an angle where gravity would do most of the work to send him toppling into the waves.
"Are you lonely?" Shen Yuan whispered.Â
Shen Jiu jolted. "What-?" The anger was immediate and instinctive. He snapped his teeth. His hand jerked up, but no, the human was still too far from the edge, from Shen Jiu, all Shen Jiu was doing was flagging his intentions as plainly as a whale, like an idiot--
"Hey, that's-" annoyance flickered over the boyâs face, and for a second Shen Jiu thought he had caught on, that he would run, and Shen Jiu too would have to flee, wasting more of his energy with a failed huntâ but then Shen Yuan was once again the picture of a young lord. The boy cleared his throat. "I mean, you don't have to be embarrassed. I would be upset too if I had no brothers or gameboy," he said with the air of someone delivering sage wisdom.Â
Shen Jiu blinked. âYes,â he repeated, perhaps unconvincingly, âIâm very sad without a âgame-boyâ or⌠my brother.â he finished with a whisper. Shen Yuan nodded sympathetically.Â
âAh!â His eyes widened and then curved, sparkling in the midday sun. He shoved a hand into his clothes and dug around, before pulling out some kind of small white and blue object.Â
âDa-ge always gives me milk candy when I fall and skin my knee. Itâll cheer you up!â He explained, dropping the thing towards the water.Â
Shen Jiu fumbled to catch it, only for the crisp white and and blue paper to start dissolving in his hand. He dropped it on instinctâ bright colors spreading through the water could only mean poison. He glanced up and sent the human a viscous glare.Â
"Nooo, you have to eat it before it gets soggy!" Shen Yuan urged, seemingly oblivious to Shen Jiuâs ire.Â
Shen Jiu considered for a moment. This creature was far too stupid to poison someone, and seemed to have been carrying this for some time without any precautions or fear of it. It probably was just food. Shen Jiuâs stomach grumbled. Cautiously, he grabbed the âmilk candyâ. The blue had fallen away to reveal a white pellet that sat nicely in his palm. He put it in his mouth.Â
âMmââ Shen Jiu couldnât suppress the noise. His head fins fluttered in delight as the creamy, sweet taste spread. He held it there carefully, letting it slowly melt over his tongue.Â
âItâs good, right?â Shen Yuan asked, just a little smug. Shen Jiu reluctantly nodded. He reached down to pat Shen Jiuâs head, as no one had done in so long. âYou donât have to be sad. If youâre lonely, Iâll be your friend.â As the boy gently stroked the sirenâs silky hair, Shen Jiu decided that lunging up to bite wasnât worth losing the treat in his mouth. It was okay to stay like this, just for a little while.
#svsss#shen jiu#shen yuan#jiuyuan#fish fic#I hope the children aren't painfully unrealistic lol-- working on that for a future project.#siren SJ AU
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