#which is why it sounds so dogshit

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Not to be uhhhh annoying, but Karkat's theme and Eridan's theme from Alterniabound at the very least have to do with each other.

Both of them start off with a melody, but switch it up at around 0:06 seconds. Then once again another switch at 0:52 (almost perfectly in sync).

At around 1:06, Eridan's theme goes slow and sad, and on the other end? Sounds of tediousness(TM). Barking, Super Mario ghost oooohing that sounds like rolling your eyes, and vaguely digital soundbites.

And THEN, at around 1:23, Karkat's waltz resumes, and Eridan's theme also becomes a waltz (more or less at 1.25x Karkat's speed).

Karkat's music ends at 1:57, WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT Eridan's theme kicks up. And then a "Hey!" is heard at 2:03/2:04, a couple of seconds after Karkat's theme actually ends. Quite literally: "Karkat pay attention to me. Hey. Karkat. Karkat. Karkat." lmao.

And guess which theme also loosely follows this pattern? Terezi's. A canonical crush of Karkat's (A lot more out of sync, though). Kanaya's theme doesn't, however. Much less Vriska's, or any other theme in Alterniabound's album.

Of course all of these songs follow a pattern, and they're made for the same [S] Pages. Karkat and Eridan's, though? Almost completely in sync.

I dunno, maybe I'm trying to fit triangles into square holes, but it seemed worth mentioning. I genuinely tried listening to both at the same time in two different tabs but I couldn't get much out of it.

(This is nosyDetective btw, I just can't send asks from this blog bc it's not my main 😔)

Unfortunately, the similarities seem pretty superficial - eridan's theme is mostly in 4/4 (2/2 technically because its a march) and karkat's is in 3/4 the whole time - but still, here's the two 3/4 parts mashed together for your listening pleasure, hahah.

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him. 

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly. 

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food. 

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me? 

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed. 

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission. 

— I don’t want to kill you. 

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch. 

— Are you going to rape me? 

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this. 

— Nein. Thought I told you already. 

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you. 

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time. 

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one. 

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible. 

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked. 

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask? 

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable. 

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed. 

— I won’t kill you. 

— But you will hurt me. 

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling. 

No, he doesn’t. 

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips. 

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it? 

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips. 

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job. 

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned. 

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift. 

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja? 

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base. 

— I…I did. 

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to. 

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his. 

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice. 

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become. 

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones. 

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you. 

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise. 

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck. 

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him. 

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him. 

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that.  He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

[geekforhorror]

For the 1k

#40 and #72

Anakin or Sam with dacryphila kink, humiliation kink, corruption kink and size kink?

(Not sure if there’s a kink limit, I only saw a limit for the phrases)

pretty when you cry

pairing: sam monroe x fem!reader

prompt(s): “don’t give me that look”, “there is no way anyone is that innocent”

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!sam, sub!reader, unprotected p in v sex, humiliation kink, corruption kink, size kink, degradation, loss of virginity, pet names, teasing, sexual tension, etc.

a/n: i apologize for how dogshit this is

“You’re a virgin?” Sam asks with a scoff.

He couldn’t believe it. The girl who had been relentlessly teasing him for weeks was a virgin? The thought of you being a virgin had crossed his mind every once in a while, but he never knew it was true. That was until you admitted it to his pretty face just now.

In the past few weeks, you had worn the skimpiest clothes imaginable when you were hanging out with the black haired boy that you so desperately wanted. At first it was subtle. Every now and then, you would “accidentally” brush your barely clothed ass against his crotch while walking past him. Then you started bending over on purpose, which gave him a glimpse of your panties. Safe to say, you were biting off more than you could chew.

“Why is that so surprising, Sammy?” you say, trying to sound as offended as humanly possible.

“Oh c’mon now, sweetheart…I see the way you act around me. How could I not be surprised?” he says in response.

You should be mad at him…but you aren’t.

“I also know one more thing for sure. You may be a virgin, but there is no way anyone is that innocent,” he puts bluntly. “You prove it to me every day with each little stunt you pull.”

“I-“ you start to say before Sam cuts you off entirely.

“Tell me if I’m right or not, but I bet I am…you touch yourself to some naughty videos, wishing it was me, huh?” he asks.

“Y-Yes” you say more timidly than ever.

“Fucking knew it baby,” he says with a cocky smirk.

“Please Sam…” you say with a whiny voice.

“Please what? C’mon, use those pretty words of yours, princess,” he tuts while lifting your chin up, forcing you to look deep into the irises of his heavenly blue eyes. “Don’t give me that look,” he says before gripping your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

“I want you to fuck me,” you finally admit.

“Pretty girl wants me to ruin her?” he asks, already knowing the pathetic answer that would fall from your lips.

“Yes Sammy.”

That was all he needed before he found himself throwing himself against you, his mouth finding yours before settling into the thrashing kiss. His tongue invaded your throat and you could care less about the soreness that would follow. His hands seemed even bigger when they were roaming your figure like a wildfire. You shudder when the cold metal of his rings were flush against your ass.

“Need you…” you whine.

“So impatient, but that’s okay… I’m gonna teach you some manners,” Sam says lustfully.

Before you know it, he pushes you down on the bed, now taking his shirt and pants off until he was completely bare. He finally gets on top of you before he lifts your skirt up only to reveal the scandalous panties you had chosen just for him.

“Picked these just for me, huh?” he asks you with a grin.

“Yes…” you admit shamefully, a rosy tone rising to your cheeks.

“You look so cute all flustered f’me, angel,” he coos. He slides your lace panties off your cunt, revealing your collected arousal. Sam practically lets out an inaudible groan at the sight of your glistening pussy. It was all his.

"Been dreaming of this for weeks, you have no idea," he admits.

"Then prove it," you say in an attempt to get him all riled up and bossy. You didn't want Sam to be gentle. You wanted him to ruin you to the point where no other boy could ever make you theirs.

Your attempt to get him all bossy proves to be successful when he suddenly pins your hands above your head, now unable to move whatsoever. "I don't know what's gotten into you slut, but I'm going to make sure I fuck it out of you. I wanted to prepare you baby, but you couldn't keep your damn mouth shut," he grits.

Without any sort of verbal warning, he slides himself into your tight pussy, earning a gasp from you at the sudden intrusion. You could feel how big he was, which made you feel deliciously full. He wastes no more time before pounding his fat cock into your greedy cunt.

"Fuck baby, such a small little pussy and it's all mine," he rasps, moving his hands to your hips, having an iron grip on them that made the supple flesh turn white. It felt like he was splitting you open despite not being all the way in yet. You try to grind your pelvis against his hip bones, but it proves to be unsuccessful with the way he's holding you.

"Fuck Sammy!" you say as he scrapes his cock deeper inside your velvety folds.

"Taking me so well like the little cock slut you are," he grunts in between thrusts before you feel him bottom out. The sensation of it all is too much for you and your aching pussy to handle, causing tears to fall from your eyes. Sam notices this and his only response is a loud scoff and an eyeroll.

"Nasty slut wanted to be treated like one and now she's crying, huh?" Sam retorts. "Good. Let those tears fall baby."

"Feels so good...please don't stop," you whine.

"Wasn't planning on it, you dirty little thing," Sam coos.

At this point, he's practically fucking the brains out of you until the only thing you can think about is him and how good he's making you feel in this moment. This was everything you dreamed of and more. You had always fantasized about how good his dick would feel, but it could never live up to the toe-curling reality. It was euphoric to say the least. There was just something about the need and passion that added to the current scenario you were in.

The sound of the rickety bed fills your ears as it slams against the thin walls of your room. Usually, you cared what others thought of you, but you just couldn't bring yourself to give a damn when you were so cock drunk on Sam.

"Fuck...think 'm gonna cum Sammy..." you say in a high pitched voice, almost pathetic sounding really.

"Give me whats mine...milk my cock like I deserve," he demands of you. With those words, you find your pussy spasming around him, closer to your inevitable release. One last deep thrust is all you need before you cream his cock with your sweet juices.

"See, wasn't so hard now, was it?" he mocks.

He takes this as an opportunity to rut harder into your slick pussy, feeling himself twitch inside you before spilling his delicious sticky seed into you. He pants through his orgasm, his breath returning to normal in no time along with yours. He slides out of you, hair sticking to both of your sweating foreheads as he climbs gently off of you.

"I hope you learned something today baby."

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @myheartwillgoon2022 @camiemorgan8 @demieyesore @midnight--raine

[sunnitheapollokid]

♡ ⑅˚₊ going soft on me, hargreeves ? PART ONE.

a five hargreeves multi-fic . . 🌻🕰️ — intro.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ mentions of blood.

author’s note : MOSTLY BASED THIS OFF RAPUNZEL READER because tangled is my favorite movie and she’s literally me 🙈 (atp this is a self-insert) AHH but also almost like harley quinn-ish? BUT WHATEVERR happy reading cuties <3

five wiped the blood off his face with his navy blue jacket’s sleeve. his siblings all feeling and looking defeated against the sparrows.

“i’ve never had my ass handed to me like that before.” luther spoke faintly, five squinted under the sun in attempts to relax his body off from that spur of the moment fight. “it’s like,” luther spoke again. “here you go.” he motioned his hands at a confused allison. “it’s your ass.”

despite the pain, five couldn’t get his mind off one of the sparrows. the younger one, with the upbeat personality. he was too busy fighting jayme, but he was incredibly intrigued by her. he could watch her fight diego and allison for a bit, with her own powers. — which was light manipulation.

during the fight, five watched her play with her hands and the light that poured in the hargreeves’ mansion as a distraction for her siblings.

viktor sat by five, “someone’s crushing.”

“yeah, me.” diego replied, stretching his back.

allison rolled her eyes, “i don’t think that’s what viktor meant.” she moved her eyes towards five, who stared at all of them like they were crazy. “a real delight that number eight was, wasn’t she?” klaus commented with a light-hearted laugh. “let’s just find a place to stay, yeah?” five rolled his eyes.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ⭐️

five needed a break from his siblings. the hotel klaus had found for them wasn’t half bad, but the coffee they served was complete, and in his words : ‘dogshit.’ which was the only downside of it all really. a very big downside.

five walked into griddy’s donuts in attempts to get a decent cup of coffee. he sat down and waited for her order to be taken when, “umbrella asshole?” one of the waiter’s asked him. it was number eight, just in a diner uniform, and holding a pitcher of coffee.

she looked at him confused. “what are you doing here?” five furrowed his brows, “i should be asking you that.” he retorted. she gave out a big smile at that. “okay ‘ya grump, i work here, actually!” she gave a charming wink as she poured him a cup of coffee.

“i take it you’re a black coffee kinda guy?” her voice overlaping the sound of the coffee pouring in. he took the cup and sipped, “am i suppose to be flattered by that observation?” he asked upon putting the cup down. “i’m just very curious is all.” he fought the urge to mirror her infectious smile.

“also, it’s not just number eight, it’s (name). or — (nickname) if you want.” if it was possible, she smiled brighter. how can anyone be so cheery? five thought to himself. also, why isn’t she kicking my ass right now? “anything to eat for you?” she pulled her pretty and sticker-covered notepad out.

he shook his head, “not hungry. far too much things on my mind.” he tapped his foot on the ground. (name) watched him, his anxious stance and his constant worried eyes. “wait here, yeah?” she spoke before running off to the back of the diner. five watched her rush away, only to come out a few moments later with a plate of waffles, eggs, and a few slices of strawberries.

she placed the plate before him, the maple syrup on top with a smiley face. “what’s this?” he asked with a dead-panned expression planted. (name) shrugged as she sat across him, “my treat, silly.” she beamed another smile at him.

five was hesitant, but took the fork from beside the plate and started digging in. his eyes grew wide at the taste, it was delicious. it felt like being home again. “it’s mom’s recipe. nobody really calls her mom besides me, they make fun of me for it.” she giggled lightly.

five looked at her, “it’s really good.” after five finished he put the fork on the plate and put it away. “thank you! also, i’m very sorry for this five.” she cackled a little more, a confused five realized his mistake and stood up, the girl began fighting him.

she attempted to punch him on the side of his face, but he dodged it with his forearm. he returned the attacked with a kick to her face, blood oozing out of her might-be broken nose. she laughed, impressed, wiping the blood off with her fingers. they began fighting more, to which people inside had run off and evacuated.

(name)’s boss continued to yell at her to stop, but (name) knew damn well she wasn’t going to stop. she hit five in the stomach with her knee, five hunching over, and (name) continued with a back-kick on the side of his face. five coughed before pushing her into the table.

“you fight real good, for a seventeen year old.” she spat the blood out of her mouth on the floor. “and you fight really weak for a girl who can manipulate light.” five time-jumped on the table she’d collided her back with, and tried to kick her once again on the face, but to his surprise only met a blinding light.

and once five was distracted trying to find his vision again, (name) pulled his feet out to get him on his back. five landed with a thud! the pain rising from the bottom of his ass to his back. “lunch is served!” her laugh echoed across the diner. five time-jumped again, under the counter.

(name) looked for him, her platforms clanking on the ground. “where are you five? we’re not done here yet, grump.” she sang, another laugh escaping her lips. she spat another puddle of blood out of her mouth. five panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

this girl was crazy. how could she be laughing at a time like this? and how was it that she was killer fighter? “come on five, you going soft on me hargreeves?” she walked the place around a little bit more. is that why diego and allison looked that bad after the fight back at the mansion? because of her?

“there you are handsome.”

[sturnioloszn]

IN LOVE WITH A CRIMINAL - C.S

summary; after almost being caught committing murder, chris reassures you that everything is fine and helps you relieve some nerves...

warnings; smut, mentions of committing a crime (murder), gun kink.

a/n; i'm lowk stepping out the comfort zone w this one, so if it's dogshit, we know why. btw, if u don't understand the relationship, chris and y/n work together as hitmen (or ig hitman and hitwoman).

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

I sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to undo the straps on my black heels. I'm usually focused on how sore my feet are after wearing heels for several hours, but my mind is engrossed with one thought.

It wasn't uncommon for Chris and I to be paired together for hits; actually, we worked well as a team. But tonight didn't go as smoothly as it was meant to.

It was supposed to be a straightforward night; while I kept the ambassador distracted, Chris would take him out.

Unfortunately, my charm worked a little too well, and the ambassador wanted to "find somewhere more private," so we kept changing locations, meaning Chris couldn't take the shot easily.

We eventually managed, but the authorities were on scene immediately, which wouldn't have been the case if we had stayed at the original location. Due to this, we were almost recognised, but we fled the scene just before they could recognise us.

Yet, I can't help but feel paranoid. I know what line of work I'm in, and yes, I know the risks, but it's still an insanely scary thought. What if they saw my face? Would I have to be a fugitive? Would I have to live the rest of my life in the shadows to prevent from being seen again?

Fuck.

The sound of ammo hitting the bathroom counter snapped me out of my anxiety-ridden thoughts. I slowly stand up from the bed, stepping out of my heels and heading towards the bathroom in the hotel room.

I reach the doorway and see Chris at the countertop, he's clearing the gun that was used tonight. I lean against the door frame with my arms crossed over my chest as I watch his hands work the gun. I won't lie, Chris was hot as fuck, he had a sharp jawline and a beautiful side profile with gorgeous brown hair that fell over his forehead.

But it doesn't matter how sexy he was, there's no way anything could happen between us, especially with work. It would just get way too messy.

"Do you think they saw us?" I ask, breaking the deafening silence that was lying between us.

"No," he replies coldly. I know he was somewhat upset at me due to the fact that I couldn't keep the ambassador in one place, making his job harder.

"There were a lot of them... what if they did see our faces?" I say, now beginning to share my inner conflicts with him.

"They didn't. Stop stressing," another cold reply.

"They saw us leave though, we had to have looked suspicious, right?" I question once again. I could sense he was getting annoyed at all my questions but I really couldn't help it.

"We're fine," he huffs, as he sorts through the unused ammunition. I watch his fingers work diligently, organising everything so carefully. I wonder what else his fingers would be good at.

Fuck, I really have to stop thinking these things, because I can only blame myself for the dampness in my panties right now.

"Listen, it's not your fault, okay?" He sighs, turning his head to finally look at me. I think he feels slightly bad being so harsh on me, even though it really isn't my fault that I'm so hot.

I nod at his words, dragging my eyes to the floor to avoid eye contact. He takes a few steps towards me and places his index finger under my chin, tilting my head high enough so that our eyes could meet.

"I mean it...I'm sorry for being a dickhead," his words are soft and sincere, almost enough to make my knees crumble completely. "And no, I'm sure they didn't see us. Stop stressing your pretty little head about it,".

He's so close that I can almost hear his heartbeat, and the small touch he has on my skin is enough to burn up my entire body. There's no way he can't see the effects he has on me.

"What can I do to ease your mind, hm?" He says, moving his finger from under my chin and using his entire hand to cup the side on my face; his thumb caressing my blushed cheek softly.

"Nothing, I'm fine...I probably just need some sleep," I say. But even if I take him up on his offer, what is he really laying out on the table? Maybe I'm reading too far into this.

"Nothing? There's absolutely nothing I can do f'you?" He asks, lowering his head to my neck and planting a soft kiss there. I lean my head back, surprised by his actions.

Chris and I have been strictly colleagues, and other than the occasional flirty joke, there's not been anything else between us... until now.

"Chris..." I whisper, almost as a warning, as if someone could catch us at any moment.

"Hm," he mumbles against my neck, still peppering small kisses. I sigh and give into his touch. He feels me surrender, and he moves his hands to my curves, drinking them in with every touch.

"This dress looks so fucking good on you, y'know that?" His words are barely recognisable, so I weave my hands through his hair and tug his face away from my neck. I guide him towards my lips and it doesn't take long for him to crash his perfect, plump lips into mine.

The kiss is instantly hot, burning even, and the feel of his hands all over my body definitely doesn't help with the heat. His hands slip down to my ass, grabbing handfuls. A light gasp leaves my mouth, surprised by his direct actions.

"Can I make you feel good?" He asks, briefly pulling away from my lips. There's a look of hunger in his eyes, which makes him look even more irresistible.

"Please, Chris," I reply pathetically. By now, my panties are soaked, and we're both still fully dressed. God, what is he doing to me.

I feel him reconnect our lips and slide his hands under my ass to my thighs. I feel his arms tense, and my feet lift the ground. He places me onto the bathroom countertop, and I wrap my legs around his torso.

His hands find my hips again, but instead of stopping there, they continue downwards towards the slit in my dress. His right hand slips under my dress, and he reaches for the fabric at my hip.

He invites his left hand under the dress, too, finding the fabric on the other side of my hip. He tugs both sides down, removing my panties completely.

He looks up at me, his cold, blue eyes meet mine. I've never seen anyone with eyes as pretty as his; they really are his best feature.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, his eyes locking me in a trance. I nod, unable to get any words past my lips.

"I need you to use your words," he speaks again. If he keeps speaking like this, my composure will be out the window any minute.

"Of course I trust you, Chris," I say, wondering why he's even asking me that. He then turns and grabs the gun next to him. What is he doing?

He returns his attention back to me and slowly spreads my legs. My dress rides up, leaving me more than accessible to him.

"Fuck, look at how soaked you are and I haven't even touched you yet," he groans, and I can see the buldge in his trousers form.

He then does something that I would have never dreamed he'd do.

He took the barrel of the gun and ran it between my folds, lathering it in my fluid. The cold metal of the gun against my hot core makes me jump slightly.

"C-Chris... what are you doing?" I ask, my breathing getting shallower.

"Shh, just let me take care of you and ease your worries," he says, his eyes never faltering from my dripping cunt. I throw my head back and enjoy this new sensation that I'm being guided through.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel the gun slip into me. No way he's fucking me with a gun.

"Fuck, Chris," I say, bucking I'm hips slightly. I'm not completely opposed to this idea but it's definitely something new.

Thank God I saw him take out the bullets otherwise my stress level would be through the roof.

He starts pumping the gun faster and faster, and a familiar heat is building in my stomach. Moans start spilling from my lips uncontrollably and my hands find their way to his hair again.

"Chris, p-please... don't stop," I say, at this point I'm fucking the gun back, and I'm so close to euphoria.

"I wasn't planning on it," he breathes out. A few strokes later, and I'm spamming around the gun, letting my wetness coat it as Chris' name, along with a string of curse words, leave my mouth.

He slowly removes the gun from my hole and looks at it in wonder before turning to me.

"I've never been more turned on in my life," he says, his eyes bouncing back between me and the gun.

I'm sure I look a mess right now, I'm panting heavily, my hair is frizzy, and mascara is likely running down my face, yet Chris doesn't think twice about calling me beautiful.

"What does this mean for us?" I ask, pulling myself down from the countertop, grabbing onto Chris to steady myself.

"I've liked you for a while, y/n, I was tired of pretending like I didn't need you," He admitted. My cheeks are definitely blushing, and not because I just orgasmed.

"Me too... but what about work?" I question, work is the main reason I hadn't made my move. I'm already a criminal, I can't be in love with one, too.

"We'll make it work, now stop worrying about everything, I'm going to run you a bath, and you're going to relax," he says, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; well... I don't think this is too horrendous (if it is, keep ur mouth shut otherwise i'll cry). alsooo, 151 notes on my last fanfic?? u guys are insane but i appreciate it sooo much, thank youuu and love youu smm 💙

[hivesfics]

ok wrote this half asleep and have never written for reid before because i’m not smart enough to so forgive me if this is ooc or dogshit

cw: nsfw under the cut, sub-ish spencer, calling him a good boy, face-sitting, reader is described as having a vagina but no pronouns or other descriptors used.

the only way you can get spencer to shut up after a long day, not that you don’t like hearing him talk, is to sit on his face and not let up until you’ve cum on his tongue at least twice.

even then, he’ll try to talk against your cunt. muttering praises to you as his tongue glides along your wet cunt. sucking and licking at your clit before pressing his tongue inside of you. his nose pressing just right against your clit.

“taste s’good.” you can vaguely hear him muffle against you.

it makes you laugh, raising your hips away from his face. he looks up at you, his eyes glazed over and pupils dilated.

“why—“ he whines and god is it a delicious sound.

“whole point of this is to get you to stop talking, honey.” you laugh again, feeling his hand try to pull your hips down again so your cunt is flush against his mouth again.

“please.” he begs, just a bit of pussy making his IQ rocket down to an all-time low.

you oblige, sitting back down. rocking your hips against his face this time, to which he moans like he’s the one being pleasured.

if you were on your back instead, you knew he’d be rutting into the mattress.

you cum a total of 4 times that night before lifting up off his face and collapsing beside him.

“now will you hush up?” you look over at him, watching as he rubs his jaw.

spencer nods, looking blissed out. he definitely did not cum in his pants just from the taste, smell, and sound of you.

“good boy.” you whisper before drifting to sleep.

[madockisser]

cardan/nicasia: why they’ll never happen again analysis/speculation

a while back i saw someone (or rather, a thread of ppl saying that they hope cardan and nicasia don’t get it on in the next book which is supposed to be nicasias book (supposedly) and i even saw someone say they WISH THEY DO ?!

so here’s your fun reminder of what nicasia put cardan through!

I’ve gathered together all the shit nicasia did to cardan: being the first girl he loved then breaking his heart w his friend, allowing cardan to catch them ON HIS BEDROOM FLOOR. (not entirely her fault but she totally had shits and giggles abt it when cardan confronted her) then when Locke screwed her over, she got CARDAN and his power as prince, to harass the girl(s) locke chose over her, one of which cardan liked, then later on was trying to manipulate him to marry her (which i think is when cardan realized they weren’t rly even friends anymore), THEN kidnapping and torturing the girl she knew cardan loved, AND befriending his abusive neglectful mother!

like damn. how u even fumble that bad, not just romantically but as a friend.

also I’d like to add her consistent entitlement, not just the whole “i bully girls bc I’m a princess and i can!” but the “cardan take me back even after i emotionally ruined you multiple times!” 😐

poor cardan

anyway, I’ve read lots of holly black books, and she is VERY mindful w abusive sort of relationships. and cheating relationships. she writes about them a LOT and each time they are pretty irredeemable.

note(the only exceptions):Taryn and hazel (darkest part of the forest) who sorta cheated on accident/ it wasn’t their fault-> but didn’t end well

add on note sorry: “but nicasia cheated on cardan on accident bc Locke was a gancanagh!” false! nicasia admitted that what her and Locke were doing was prolonged, the scene that cardan finds them is not their first time screwing around. nicasia KNOWINGLY cheated on cardan. then she was like “ok but i still care abt u! take me back” ?

now you can say that it could sorta be classified as an accident due to lockes natures (which are actually really disturbing if u think abt it) and that’s true, i never blamed nicasia for that relationship, but i do blame her for all the utter dogshit she not only put cardan thru, but Jude.

and this is cardan we are talking about. he who killed half an army for Jude when madoc tried taking his daughter back (sounds funny out of context).

we must remember that cardan does not want Jude hurt and humiliated and that’s exactly what nicasia went and did to Jude. through all the books bro. nicasia literally kidnapped and tortured Jude in the undersea so there’s 0 chance of cardan touching nicasia unless maybe to turn her into a tree again (but he can always just do that at a distance 😛)

anyway back to the cheating:

which is why i know that holly would never pull any sort of bull w cardan and nicasia, and you may be thinking (well that’s bullshit what do u know?) 3 separate books w cheating tropes, and 5+ diff relationships that involve cheating w no redemption. LOL

anyway black and i certainly agree on that front, and the way she uses the trope so consistently, and makes it so the cheaters are never endgame, or have a horrible death (Locke AND his mom, also Eva Duarte 😭the dude Ben dated from dpotf, and Kaye and that guy Janet was dating, Val and Tom and dave and lolli (modern faerie tales)) is pretty telling!

holly is great at writing healthy relationships, and she knows that tcp is her biggest hit w the media, so she won’t go and fuck that, not just bc she would never and it’s out of her writing style and character and literally moral compass when it comes to writing relationships, but also bc her publishers/editors would NEVER let that slide.

but i can’t wait for her book! i love knowing that nicasia will never have a chance w cardan again, it’s no less than what she deserves 😋

anyway sorry for ranting! I just feel so strongly abt this topic, cardan would never cheat on Jude, since he’s been cheated on before, and it was heart wrenching, and bc of his upbringing, he would never. if you haven’t, go thru my masterlist in my pinned and find the cardan /nicasia thing where i explain why he wouldn’t cheat far better there!

But feel free to add on, i probably missed a few things so lmk!! 🫶

[olderthannetfic]

I'll be honest i have a lot of……..activism burnout? ok, that's not a good word to use in this context, but I have 'whatever the less serious version of that is', in regards to AI.

Like, I'm not saying AI is good or that I enjoy seeing it or that I'd use it for fandom stuff. But this whole paranoia about it is just….i dont care. And I know that I should. And I DO I care, I guess, in some ways, but this whole "OMG AI IS EVERYWHERE" "AI IS KILLING FANART" "THIS FIC SOUNDS LIKE AI" (which can be used as both an accusation and also as criticism).

like, sorry, i genuinely do not care that there's AI art on pinterest or that there's an AI fic in a ship tag or that Kids These Days use character.ai as opposed to talking to real people. (with a caveat of "if AI is banned on pinterest/ao3, yeah, you have the right to bring up that specific factor." i ALSO don't like it when AI users give themselves more credit than they deserve, by saying like "omg look at this art i made with AI" no bestie you did not in fact make that art.) but this whole thing where people are weirdly obsessed with loving to hate AI is just exhausting and it really makes me not care.

it really isn’t that deep and it's not a topic i give a fuck about it (i say after having just written several sentences on the matter). like i dont like ai art and i really really dont like fucking AI chatbots on technical support websites or whatever, but also i dont think the world is gonna end because someone had chatgpt write them a story or a recipe or a cover letter or something like that.

i get that AI is annoying and that 99.99% of the time anything made by AI is gonna be dogshit compared to something a human made and that it can be very disappointing to see AI after AI in a tag or something but also the asshole part of me is like. 'oh, you hate ai? you think it's killing fandom culture? awesome, great, should we throw a party? should we invite nikola tesla?'

i think part of why ai wank pisses me off so much is cuz its everywhere, as its the hot new topic, and i'm aware that there is a lot of hilarity in me contributing to this argument especially considering my opinion is very much the unpopular one that people will not like, but even with blocking words like "ai" or "gpt" or whatever it's impossible to fully avoid cuz opinions will still slip through the cracks somewhere, or show up on a website where you can't filter, or some rando is always gonna be talking about it in offline settings or whatever, and it's all in the news, and i'm just tired of hearing about it constantly.

--

[judasgot-it]

I wanted to write something really quick for Jouno's birthday ngl, so here's some really cheesy dogshit

Happy Birthday to the blind king himself (ugh I miss him)

Scenario: Calling Jouno while he's at work. It becomes a little silly.

As much as Jouno hated the telephone, he hated the sounds of his coworkers even more.

What were they yelling for? It's four in the morning.

Who's even up at four in the morning?

Apparently them.

Every day. For the last 2 weeks.

Usually, he could have slept in for at least 3 more hours. Have a coffee that didn't taste like piss and tinfoil (everyday he hated whoever made the coffee in the lounge, no one would tell him the name of the moron who cheaped out on it. They weren't safe from him.) and get to tell his woe's to someone who didn't have rocks for brains.

But no. He was stuck here, at HQ, listening to reports that led their current case to nowhere.

Which led to yelling. Always yelling.

So answering the phone was honestly rather refreshing.

"..."

He waited a second. Why should he, of all people, speak first?

"Hello? Is Jouno there?"

Jouno felt time pause for a moment. He stopped, listening to the other members in the room.

They seemed rather distracted, not truly paying attention to what he was doing. Teruko and Tachihara were arguing and Tecchou was...he smelt gross, so probably working out.

"Sorry, who is this?"

He really hoped he was hearing wrong.

"Jouno, c'mon you know who I am. Why, is something wrong?"

When did you have their number? As far as he recalled, only government officials were ever given this number, and even that is far and few in between. He never let you know much about his work.

"I'm not trying to buy anything."

To Jouno's dismay, that failed miserably. Instead, all he heard was your laughter on the other side of the phone. Did you really think his misery was funny?

"If I find you, I'll kill you."

Jouno made threats as a part of his day-to-day life, it was easy to fake it towards you. But a part of him felt how he was cracking easily, hearing your obvious giggles as they thought of the next line to say.

"Ok ok. Sorry I know you're busy at work right now. But I really did call for something really important."

Taking a moment, Jouno sighed as he leaned against the small desk that held the phone. He waited a bit, listening to see if the others in the room were still ignoring him.

As much as he hated it, they seemed to actually notice that the "bad-things-are-happening-please-help" phone was called. His luck really is immaculate.

"How did you get this number again?"

There was a guilty laugh on your end. What had you so happy?

"Some other day, maybe. But that's not important! Jouno."

Jouno gave a very long sigh.

"Jouno, today is your birthday!"

"Yes."

He was really hoping he was as good of an actor as he thought he was, because he couldn't help how his heart was beating twice as fast at the thought of you remembering something so small.

"Are you coming home tonight?"

There was a pause.

Jouno didn't want to respond, because he hated the answer. Truthfully, he didn't know when he would have a 'normal' (for a hunting dog) workday.

He didn't even want to admit out loud how much he missed you.

"Oh, ok. You know, after your 'case' is over, we should get to celebrating. I have the perfect gift for you already, which definitely involves no clothes."

"No."

There was a pause on your end. He hated telling you no. Weird, since frankly breaking people's hearts was his favorite past time.

"Good idea. Uh..."

Jouno forced himself to listen back into the conference room, which was now weirdly quiet. There was also a small heartbeat very very close to him.

That was not a good sign.

"Thank you. Um."

He turned his head, bell-jingling against the phone, as he knew Teruko was looking up at him -probably with a shit eating grin.

"...I love you."

Sighing, he ate his pride, turning away.

"I love you too, Jouno. Happy birthday."

You sang it, not forcing him to endure the entire song. He hoped he was tall enough and facing enough away that Teruko couldn't see the smile on his face hearing those words.

When he hung up the phone, hearing the click and shut off the landline, he was forced to face his reality.

The one where he couldn't stop hearing his coworkers giggling. Particularly Teruko's, but even Tecchou was laughing somewhere deep in that stupid body of his that managed to breathe air.

He wanted to kick him.

"I didn't know you were in a relationship."

Tachihara said this nervously, but still with a smile in his voice.

"I'm not. I don't know who that was or how they got that number."

It was hard to say this seriously, as Jouno could feel the red creeping up on his face.

Happy birthday Jouno omfgggfgfg when is he coming back </3

[androgynousblackbox]

OKAY, so I haven't actually finished the book yet so maybe my opinion on this will change, but I honestly feel like the gringo booktubers I watch all have no idea of what to do with Tender Is The Flesh and are fundamentally wrong about it? Like, saw someone trying to say "this book tries to criticize the food we eat rather than the industry", which sounds like absolute fucking bullshit to me because a BIG portion of the fucking book is all about how the industry is treating "the meat" like fucking dogshit and how the characters themselves, the ones who work inside of the industry, are disgusted whenever anyone even attempts to say there is something good about it. There is this constant cognitive dissonance where the characters know what they are doing is inhumane and awful, that they are treating "the meat" horrible, but it's their job, what are they going to do, and at the same time they feel it crosses a line whenever someone call "the meat" human or are even beyond inhumane when someone says the meat "have a good life" because they get treated as studs. Also, like in general, I feel all of them miss the part about this author being argentine and thus how that colors their vision of how the industry works. The biggest industry in all of the argentina, the one that gave us any kind of possibility to survive in this world, was the meat industry, we actually fucking need it because we have nothing else to offer, and yet, all the powerful people who are involved with the meat industry in this work are all foreigners: a japanese man who collects skin of people and threatens his employees with skinning them alive, a gringo, that is literally called gringo, and a german man who is to utterly dettached that has no issue calling "the meat" human and also make inhumane comments about them. At that point is very obvious to me that this isn't about just criticizing an industry, but criticizing a system to whome the industries are merely a reflection of. It's not about the world, it's about a country being so set on their old ways and traditions that are literally willing to eat each other if it means having a foot in the outside world. Because otherwise we have fucking nothing. And this ALREADY fuck us over in the real world. The protagonist is literally the representation of that! He literally asks himself why he keeps working on this shit if it makes him miserable? Because he is the best at it, because he gets paid and he needs the money. CAPITALISM ALL THE WAY DOWN, BABY. Like, the meat food industry is bad, but also think about why they are bad and why the powerful people want it to be bad in the first place. Like, the books says that indigenous, immigrants and other POCs are the first humans to being eaten. The poor and elderly. Why do you all think that is?? Like, I just generally do not understand how you can read that and come out thinking "this person just wants me to be vegan and I don't like that"/"this person doesn't criticize the food industry", like I am a very fucking firm believer that vegans who spend every breath trying to make you vegan are shit and just eat whatever, but even I got that it was meant as something else than that. And how people keep saying that the ending "comes out of nowhere" when it's literally foreshadowed at the beggining at the book while doing the world building? Were you even paying attention at all at that point? Like, I literally saw someone being "I think this book overstimates how much it would take for the world to be okay with cannibalism", like THAT IS NOT THE POINT. The point is not to write "how it's a world where human meat is mandatory", but rather explore the idea in which the way we ALREADY eat each other gets taken to it's extreme. LITERALLY WHAT ALL DISTOPIA FICTION DOES?? Anyway, again, I might change my mind when I finish the work myself, but even by reading the start myself and knowing a bit about the background of this author, I just do not get any of these reviews at all.

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

{{-I'm gonna let y'all figure this one out LMAO-}}

// General Warnings: 18+ Fic MINORZ DNI, Reader implied to be afab and under 5'5. \\

// Chapter Warnings: Ted's ex mentioned, (no name drop n not throwing shade), subtlety. \\

// Word Count: 3.5k \\

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully & @limecorpse

☆Love Ya To Death!☆

Chapter 15: Rose Coloured

The warmth in my stomach shifts for a moment, and I feel a little nervous. I watch as Ted moves the blankets up to cover our lower halves, sitting up a bit and leaning against his pillow. "I....think hangin' around me is making your pillow talk worse.." I make a light-hearted joke as I sit up as well, trying to ease the tension that was now filling the room. It was a pretty heavy thing to drop out of the blue. What started as a funny little conversation in his Tacoma has begun this big, almost unnecessary mystery. He's choosing one hell of a time to finally talk about it.

"I know, I'm...I'm dogshit at this sort of thing.." Ted gave a soft, nervous sounding chuckle as he lays back against his pillow. "And I hate that I can't do it sober, but....I think I've kept it long enough...from you.." Wow. Fuck. This is really happening. It hits me like a tidal wave, making me place a hand on my bare stomach. I realize that I truly have no idea what this big secret could be. I quietly search my memories of our first conversation, desperately trying to find any context clues that would give me an idea of what to expect. The only thing I knew for sure was that he was at Joe's wedding, but didn't stay for the reception. That gives me...nothing. I have no idea what he's going to tell me, I have no idea what to be ready for. That's making me incredibly nervous.

"Ted...should I be worried?.." The words leave me before I'm able to filter them, my playful smile completely gone. Fuck, this is why I stopped smoking. I'm paranoid for nothing. This is clearly hard for him. He trusts me, I should trust him too.

"No! No...m-maybe? I--" Ted cuts himself off, his usual confidence seems to be slipping which at least assures me he's trying to be honest. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the usual height of it sticking to his sweaty forehead. "I-I mean...I-I'm probably gonna look like a huge dick for fucking you senseless before telling you, but...I don't know, you...do something to me. You always have, and it..." He pauses and let's out a deep sigh. "...it drives me insane."

That last little sentence is a lot more reassuring than he probably thought it'd be. Even if I'm nervous, I want to make this as easy for him as possible. If we're really gonna have something special, it needs to have honesty in there with all the tension.

"Always? What, are you about to admit you've been stalking me for the last two years?" I ask with a lighthearted smile, trying to ease the tension once more.

"No! Oh my god, no. Never." Ted nearly shoots up out of the bed, sitting up more briefly before letting out another nervous chuckle. "Okay, on Instagram, maybe, but no. I've--I've stayed in L.A., an entire state away from you, I swear..."

"Then it's okay, Ted. It's okay..." I reach for his hand to take it into my own, giving him the most reassuring smile I could muster, looking into his eyes as I speak. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and claim some sappy shit like 'I know you, you'd never hurt me!', because it's been less than a month of...this.." I pause to gesture around the not-so foggy room, the lingering smell of cannabis still in the air mixing in with the smell of sex. "I mean, I didn't even do any of this...casual shit until I met you, and...I'm pretty sure that means it's real, right? How we're feeling?..." I felt like I was rambling, but I could see that my words were reaching Ted.

"Yeah, yeah it's real.." Ted spoke up with a little nod, giving me a small smile. "I'm not gonna lie and say I've never done casual shit before you, but...yeah, I can feel it..."

"I don't want you to lie, Ted.." I reply, bringing both of my hands down to hold his, shaking my head a little. "I promise I'm going to listen and hear you out, no matter what it is. If it's upsetting, we'll talk about it. If it's not, we move on and...probably have more good sex, imma be real." The tension between us is cut by my little joke. Ted let's out a cackle, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, yeah it's--It's pretty great.." He replies, his tone a bit hoarse.

"Surprisingly good, right?"

"Yeah, it--it fucks with me, dude. It fucks with me."

"And I'm in your bed for a change."

"Yeah, you are."

"You know why?"

"Because the sex is good?"

"Not just that, it's because I like you, Ted. I like you..."

I see Ted's shoulders visibly relax and he turns to look at me again, his amused smile shifting into a warmer, almost infatuated smirk. I watch as his eyes search my face, quietly taking in my features before taking another deep breath, nodding a bit to himself before speaking again.

"Alright, so..." Ted speaks and looks back up at the ceiling again. "When I went to Joe's wedding, I...went with my girlfriend at the time. She was my date. We'd been together for...about a year or two by that point, I think.." I notice that he isn't looking at me as he's explaining himself, but I understood why. Based on the way he was squinting and searching the ceiling, he was trying to recollect as much as he could.

"There was this really nice wine they were serving before the ceremony. I'm not even a wine kinda guy, but I had...a few glasses, so did my girlfriend. Anyways, I..." Ted is holding onto every word a little longer as he speaks, I can't completely tell why. Maybe he's being very careful with how he words this story, or maybe he's stalling for as long as he can until he has to say the part he's clearly worried about.

"I...I used to consider myself a pretty romantic guy." Ted admitted, gesturing with his free hand as he talked. "Like, I liked doing things, sharing stuff. I'd always have some dumb fuckin' date planned every other week. We'd go hiking, we'd go on a road trip, I'd get some fuckin'...stupid expensive restaurant reservation just so we could make fun of how expensive everything was while willingly giving them our money; knowing we were giving them our money. I...I don't know, I liked doing things together, even if they were dumb or didn't go completely according to plan. I guess you could say it's my love language? Or It was? I don't know.." I quietly remind him that everything's okay by giving his other hand a gentle little squeeze. All of that sounded wonderful. I'd love to make all of the dumbest plans in the world with him after this film was done. I'm hoping I can bring that side of him back.

"...What happened?.." I ask after a moment, tilting my head at him.

"Well...maybe my love of sharing experiences was a bit much, cause...I had made some comment about having our own wedding sometime or something..." Ted glances at me as he speaks, shaking his head a defeated sigh. "I-I can't remember exactly what I said, but whatever it was, it was big enough to freak her out. She flipped at me, we got into an argument and then she left.."

Hearing that made me feel both confused and frustrated, visibly furrowing my brows. That sounded like a strange thing to get upset about, especially if you've been dating for over a year or so.

"She left the whole wedding?" I ask, not even trying to mask my confusion.

"And me." Ted replied with a little shrug, his gaze moving to his closed door. "Like, an hour before the ceremony."

If this were any other guy, I'd feel like he was leaving something out, but based on the somber look on Ted's face I know he's telling the truth. That's it. He made a comment about having a wedding with his girlfriend and she flipped out and left him. Her reaction made no sense in my head.

"What???" I let go of Ted's hand to shrug both of my arms out. It's like the disbelief you get when your favourite show or book has the worst, most cop-out bullshit ending of all time. It sounded like bullshit. "That's it? Over a comment about fuckin' marriage?"

"Yeah." Ted simply nodded, placing both of his hands on his bare chest. "I think I had said something like 'another moment we could share' or something, and she just...I don't know, she--she lost it."

"So it wasn't even one of those dumb 'ball and chain, I hate my wife haha' jokes?"

"No."

"What the fuck???"

"Yeah, I know. I-I still don't get it either."

The more Ted won't look at me, the more I have the urge to reach over and touch his face, but I keep my hands to myself for now. I genuinely couldn't fathom a person having such an overreaction over such a cute comment. The only thing I could think of is maybe she was having a bad day? Maybe she was overwhelmed? Maybe she thought he was genuinely proposing then and there and flipped out? Still, why wouldn't she at least hear him out?

"And that was it? You guys didn't talk after the wedding?" I ask, sitting up more. I know this isn't what he wanted to talk about and I felt a little bad for not dropping it, but this was just...bonkers.

"Yeah, that was it. Ended at a wedding." Ted confirmed with another little shrug. "Her friend came and got her stuff from my apartment and that was the last I'd heard from her. Probably could've tried harder, but...I just knew it was done."

I couldn't imagine breaking off a near 2 year old relationship over a simple comment about potentially getting married. I'd have understood if the comment was made before the 6 month mark, but 2 years, man. 2 whole years, thrown out the fucking door. Even I wouldn't be that petty.

"So..." I speak up after a moment, clasping my own hands together. "...How do I fit into this? Do you think I had something to do with it?"

"No, I hadn't even noticed you at that point. It was after she left.." Ted shook his head, resting more on his back as his gaze went back up to the ceiling. I watch him take in a deep, heavy breath. Whatever he's about to say, it's been weighing on him not even since we've met, but since that wedding itself. Whatever it is, I'm ready to hear it. I just want him to be honest with me, and with himself.

"After she left, I was...a pretty decent mess.." Ted explained, moving his hands a little as he spoke. "I drank more wine than I probably should've; way more than I should've. I wanted to look chill, I wanted to look fine, but everyone asked where my date went and I just got frustrated. I sat in my seat, watched the ceremony, watched all the bridesmaids go up on the stage, saw you stand near Joe and then after, I..."

Ted finally turns his head to gaze at me fully once again, his dark orbs meet mine as he trails off. His dark eyes are moving side to side as if they're struggling to pick an eye to look into and I watch his somber expression fade into something I don't recognize, his eyes almost looking glassy. Whatever he wants to say, he's silently struggling with it. I raise my brows a little and give him a gentle smile to try and silently encourage him. I want him to know it's okay, that he can trust me. I hope he knows he can trust me.

"....I...I was too upset to approach you, so I left.."

Ted finally finishes his sentence, his tone simple, almost stern, like a strict parent that had made up their mind. He's a lot more relaxed than he was before. All of the tension surrounding him was gone, as if it were never there. Silence fills the room as I put all of the pieces in my head together. That feeling of disbelief enters me again, my eyebrows furrowing once more. That's it?

"...That's it?" I ask after the long pause, shrugging my shoulders lightly. "You didn't approach me because you were upset?"

"...and because you were just..." Ted breaks his gaze away from me to look up at the ceiling again, slowly shaking his head. "...beautiful. Too beautiful."

"You didn't approach me because you were upset and I was 'too beautiful'."

"Yes."

"So--wait.."

My eyebrows are lowered so tightly I feel like I'm going to get a headache. I close my eyes and sit up completely, sitting up on my knees.

"So you goto your wedding with your girlfriend..." I begin, holding my hands out with my fingers pressed against my thumbs, recollecting his whole story to him. "You goto the wedding with your girlfriend, you drink a bit of wine and you make a comment about having your own wedding, she freaks out and leaves you, you drink more to cope, you see me up with the bridesmaids and because you think I'm so beautiful, you...panic and leave?"

There is another silent pause between us after I repeat back everything he's told me.

"....Yeah...That's it." Ted finally answers, turning to look at me once more. "I..panicked and left.."

I don't know if it's because I'm still high or whatever, but that sounded...kinda dumb. Very dumb. I guess that's a good thing? This is technically best case scenario.

"So...what part of that were you specifically afraid of telling me?" A breathy chuckle leaves me as I ask, feeling the tension in the room begin to fade with the remaining cannabis smoke. "The coming to the wedding with your girlfriend part? Or the 'you were so pretty I dipped' part?"

"You weren't the only reason I left.." Ted gave me a small smile and playfully rolled his eyes at me, sitting up more to face me fully. "I just, I don't even know anymore, it was so long ago..." Ted runs his fingers through his dark hair, getting some of it to stay off his forehead. "I just remember seeing you up there and...it's like I was there for you, I completely forgot I was supposed to be watching two motherfuckers get married, there was just you." Our eyes meet once more. I see the true infatuation Ted has for me in his glassy eyes. I feel like I can see right through him, but I'm only seeing the best of him.

"But, at the end of the day, you were Joe's Maid of Honor and I was some fuckin'...stupid wine-drunk asshole who had just been dumped, so...that's why I didn't approach you." Ted glanced down at his lap. Everytime he's paused, it's like he's been thinking about exactly how to put it, purposely choosing particular words carefully. It's not that he's speaking slowly, no. He's speaking carefully, almost cautiously. I'm aware of it, but I figured it's because this is a lot for him to talk about. "I guess I just thought you'd think I was...pathetic. It worried me."

"What, you were worried I wouldn't think you were cool anymore?" I let out a soft chuckle, inching a bit closer to move some of Ted's hair out of his face.

"I...like having a good reputation..." Ted expressed with a warm little smile, taking my hand in his to rest it against his cheek. "It was stupid to hide, I know."

"Yeah, it was. It kinda was." I confirm with a playful little laugh. "I don't know why Joe was so adamant on you telling me that. I'm not offended or anything, it's...kind of sweet."

As I mention Joe, we both lay back down and pull the covers over our bare bodies. Ted's smile fades a little as we lay down, furrowing his brows at me. "Joe wanted me to tell you?" Ted asks, his tone a little hoarse again. He seemed a little confused by that. "He wouldn't tell you anything?"

"Yeah, I asked him about it first. He insisted you tell me." I emphasized, shifting a bit close to loosely wrap my arm around him, taking in how his warm skin felt against mine. "I guess it's a pretty romantic story if you think about it. As much as I wish I had met you sooner, I think you made the right choice to leave.."

Silence fills the room once more. They're starting to make me a little uncomfortable, like he's going quiet because of what I'm saying. I hope I'm not upsetting him. "...and we're together now, right? That's what matters.." I give him a fond smile, feeling my bare chest lightly brush against his. I see him relax fully again, slowly wrapping both of his arms around me to pull me into a warm, almost possessive hug.

"Yeah, that's what matters..." Ted whispered to me as I laid against him, feeling him give me a gentle peck atop my head. "I wouldn't of been good to you then. I think this was the perfect time..."

"You think so?.." I glanced up a little from his prickly chest to look at him, watching as he gently shook his head.

"After I got dumped, I got...I got stupid.." Ted admitted, another deep sigh escaping him. "Said things, did things...I-I wasn't myself. I wasn't who I wanted to be, connection wise, y'know what I mean?" I give Ted a small nod and a reassuring smirk, continuing to listen as he spoke. "Like, even before we met, even before we really connected I'd been...." Ted pauses and stammers a little, a half-chuckle leaving him. "It's gonna sound sappy as fuck, but I'd been working on myself a lot. Yeah, I'd look at your Instagram every so often, pretty sure I've been following you since that wedding, but I wanted to be my best self, even after I'd accepted I'd probably never see you again; that I had fucked up my chance. I couldn't do hook ups and, what do they call them?...'situationships' forever."

Ted's confession is genuine. I think this is the most honest and vulnerable he's been with me since we've met. I appreciate it more than he'll probably ever know. "So when you stepped into this fuckin' house with Tanner last week, I..." Ted exaggerates his tone, looking down at me with a smile. "I can't begin to describe how fucking terrifying that actually was."

"Terrifying?" I let a laugh leave me, raising a brow at Ted. "I'm terrifying now?"

"You are. You're fuckin' scary, dude."

"I'm scary?"

"You're hair-raisin', yeah."

"How am I terrifying? I'm half your size."

"Well, it's how I feel that's terrifying, actually."

I feel my cheeks go a bit warm from the subtle blush spreading along them, exhaling a quiet scoff out my nose.

"Because...now you're here." Ted continued, a nervous smile curling up the corners of his lips. "You know me, you've talked to me, said my name, kissed my lips, and if I somehow fuck this up..."

"Ted, you're not gonna fuck anything up.." I scoff a little at him again, bringing one of my hands up to caress his cheek, having him look me in the eyes once more. "Maybe most people would probably think it's a little fucked up that you got them high and slept with them before confessing all this, but what matters is that you trusted me enough to be honest and I'm not upset. I'm not uncomfortable or offended and I've always thought you weren't cool, so you've got nothing to worry about."

That last comment succeeded in getting a good laugh out of Ted, watching him shake his head a bit. "My point is that I...I believe in us, I guess. I believe in you." I give him a reassuring grin, caressing his cheek with my thumb. "I'm proud of you for finally sharing that with me. I'm as ready as you are to stick together. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You can tell me anything, alright?.."

Ted leans a little into my touch, his worried expression softening into one of infatuation and tenderness. He pulls me into his prickly chest once more, lightly nodding before resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Yeah...anything.."

I hear a little waver in his voice as he speaks, but I figured it's just cause we're tired. I don't even think we're high anymore, though I can't recall where it would've worn off. All I know is my throat is sore and my legs are shaky but my body is warm and my heart is content.

I fall asleep to the feeling of Ted's hand slowly caressing my bare back, my dreams filled with wine glasses and roses.

__________________________________

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) ||

[stars-n-spice]

The Dad Batch™ as things my dad has said/done:

Hunter:

asks questions about things and immediately answers himself like he knew the answer already or someone suddenly possessed him to answer himself

the only Korean movies he's ever shown us are war movies that are depressing as FUCK

had a Temu phase and for Christmas bought EVERYONE a blanket from them

explained his relationship with my mom to a coworker as "I live with her"

Mixed up my name with the dog

Had nice, long, beautiful hair but recently got it cut so short that he was depressed and moping for like a day about it even though HE wanted to cut it short

changes his age every time he tells us about when he came to America (he was either 14, 15, or 16)

Echo:

always sings "A Whole New World" for his karaoke song

apparently lied to the Korean embassy about going to America to "study" (has not been back since outside of visits to family)

my mom sent him a grocery list and he responded with "asking too much"

does not understand the words "bruh" or "huzzah" - along with all the other Gen Z slang (that even I don't understand sometimes)

would let me play Candy Crush on his phone but would take it away because I wasn't able to finish the levels and he didn't like me wasting his lives

calls my mom's cat "the baby"

got a PhD in his second language

Wrecker:

snores like a motherfucking freight train and sneezes like he's trying to break the sound barrier

learned how to cook/grill via YouTube (and is actually REALLY good at it)

wanted to show off his taekwondo skills (of which he has NONE) in elementary to a girl and said he'll kick a water bottle off her head - instead he ended up kicking the girl right in the face

Is married to a Mexican and thinks Taco Bell is the best (for some reason???)

Loves opening up presents more than the actual present itself (he'll always say that he doesn't need anything around Fathers Day, his birthday, or Christmas but then when he DOESN'T get anything, he gets upset)

takes a selfie and sends it to the family group chat every time my sister's cat comes to sit with him

Tech:

after his first date with my mom, he bought her a whole case of bottle water and left it at her dorm room door with no note or anything because he noted that she "drank a lot of water" during the date and thought she really liked water

was excused from mandatory Korean military service because his eyesight was so fucking awful, just absolute dogshit (and this was AFTER surgery)

asked if anyone needed to use the restroom on a road trip right before the exit and my younger brother said he needed to and my dad responded with "too bad" and kept driving

While we were watching Lord of the Rings every time I gasped or something during battle scenes or when Legolas did something cool, he went, "Don't worry. I think it's all CGI. That's all computers. It's not real."

Somehow knew his way around Texas the first time he was there after he was sent on a grocery run by my Tíos for a party they were having - y'know, before gps and google maps and shit

Crosshair:

frequently forgets my name and birthday but remembers that my favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip

when my mom asked him where her birthday gift to her from him was one year all he did was cover his face and then did like a "peek-a-boo" motion to claim he was the gift

as a kid he got so upset at dinner once that he flipped the table over and got into so much trouble (claims he doesn't remember why he was so upset)

will ask the cats about their day before asking my mom or my siblings and I about our days

sits in the dark and plays COD on his phone at full volume as a way of unwinding

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

A Weight Off Your Shoulders ║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7.0k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles, the savagery of puberty, but mostly just indulgent pussy worship lmao, etc.

| SYNOPSIS: [AU no outbreak] After finding out your fiance was cheating on you with the younger, skinnier intern at his work, you pack up and head home to Texas where you meet your friendly DILF neighbor Joel. He doesn’t seem to mind your fuller physique, but you’re still plagued with insecurities that have followed you for most of your life. Can he make you forget about all that for just a moment or will you stay wracked with self-conscious, negative thoughts? Spoiler: We all know Joel is a smooth talker and is down to do whatever it takes to convince you that you’re perfect just the way you are.

✧this is the first installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

The moving van’s AC went out about 75 miles ago, and you can’t bother getting too upset about it. It goes right along with the absolute dogshit spectacle your life has become. The sweat trickles down your back as you keep your eyes focused on the road. The GPS says it’s not too much longer. Your ass is sore from sitting and driving all day, for the past three days. 

It should’ve been two at most - more like one and a half at even a leisurely pace - but the engine had started smoking and making an awful clicking sound somewhere in between Colorado and Oklahoma. You waited 6 hours for the moving truck company to meet you and switch out vehicles. At least the van hadn’t gone up in flames and destroyed all your messily packed cardboard boxes.

The string of down-on-your-luck events provided you with some sort of distraction from the reason you were cooped up in this incinerator of a vehicle and heading home to Texas where your parents still lived, a far cry from the life you had carved out with your fiance - ex-fiance, you correct yourself – in Colorado. 

Ah, yes. Mike. Michael, you think to yourself bitterly. He always hated whenever anyone used his full name instead of his nickname. You were at that level of petty, insulting him in any way that you could. You knew you’d never get close to matching his efforts at hurting you, though.

It had been a great relationship for the first few years. You had met him at his job where you were logging unpaid internship hours so you’d have something to put on your resume when you graduated with your finance degree. Math and economics had always been easy and interesting to you, although it didn’t make you very popular at parties. 

Mike– No, MICHAEL, had been sweet and teased you about how you were “too cute” to be an accountant. You had thought to yourself on numerous occasions that accountants could really use a PR overhaul. Most of your coworkers were nerdy introverts with a dark sense of humor and a penchant for getting ripshit wasted after The Hellfire Summit was over. (That’s what you all called Tax Day.)

But you weren’t “too cute” to be an accountant. Too cute for Michael, maybe, but definitely not some knockout. You had always been on the heavier side starting in middle school. You were vertically challenged, which meant there was a lot less real estate for any additional poundage you racked up through puberty. Your mom had done her best to not give you a complex, but you weren’t stupid and it wasn’t hard to figure out why she was so insistent on you being in sports throughout most of the year. You had taken to soccer pretty quickly, and the endless running kept your weight from climbing into absolute fat pig territory. Not that you didn’t think of yourself that way regardless.

While all your other teammates cried about their boobs not growing - something you had absolutely no way of relating to - you cursed the puberty gods for not giving you a growth spurt of 6” so you could be tall and lean like your friends. By the time college rolled around, you just stuck to running as a stress reliever, but it wasn’t the same level of activity that had kept you smaller throughout high school. The bathtub jungle juice frat parties and 2 am pizza slices didn’t really help matters, either. You put on a respectable “freshman 8,” but your hips and ass delivered it as more of a “freshman 23.”

Michael always talked about how he liked “somebody that didn’t just order a salad,” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. You didn’t pay it much mind, though, when your sex life was pretty good together. He made you come more than other guys you’d been with, but it wasn’t hard to exceed expectations when the bar was so low it was in hell. And yet, Michael had found a way to sink it down ever farther.

You should’ve seen it coming. In hindsight it was so painfully obvious that something had changed for the worse. You had chalked it up to him getting nerves after FINALLY proposing to you. You were so happy when he finally asked you to marry him. Even his 15 year old son from a previous relationship had made a remark about his dad “finally growing some balls” and proposing.

A wash of sadness rolled over you at the thought of Ethan. He was such a good kid, and you had become attached to him after being with Michael for so many years. You’d moved in together, and Ethan thoughtfully cleared off a shelf of his video game things so that you’d have a nice spot in the living room for some of your DVDs and books. How on earth that was the child of the piece of shit cheating scumbag Michael was beyond you. Ethan must have taken after his mother more than you previously knew.

Michael had been married before and had Ethan with his ex-wife Patty. They had just “grown apart” as he’d put it. They got together when they were young, and it wasn’t until his 38th birthday party that he realized they just weren’t meant for each other anymore. 

You’d been upset at first to learn that Michael had started seeing you before he had “made it official” with Patty that things were over. You weren’t into the idea of being the other woman, and you didn’t blame Patty for hating your guts. Of course she would assume that you knew they were still married and that they had a young son together. You were the homewrecker whore, and it was humiliating to tag along to family events where Patty and some of their mutual friends gave you a not-so-subtle stink eye.

The friends that did readily accept you weren’t exactly top of the line human beings. Luke had clapped you on the back once after having three too many beers and cackled about how he knew Michael wasn’t crazy for switching things up and breaking things off with Patty “for you.” When you shrugged his sloppy hand off your shoulder and asked what the fuck he was on about, his shit eating grin was the icing on the cake when he slurred, “Well’ya knowwwwww what’hey say, dontcha?��� You shook your head, nonplussed and not really interested in learning “what they say.” He giggled and leaned in close when he revealed that “gotta be takin’ care’uhhh him ‘cause they say thah big girls give’thuh bes head ‘cuz they’re al-huways hungry.”

Trevor had intervened before you slammed your mojito into Luke’s Neanderthal brain. “Hey man, fuck off. Don’t  be saying shit like that. Fuckin’ rude, dude.” Luke had made a fuss about how he was “jusss jok-eeen,” but Trevor wasn’t having it. “Whatever, man. Everybody knows you don’t go around talking about girl’s bodies, you fucking idiot. And you’re watching too much porn if you think she’s fat. She’s normal, man. Real women aren’t walking around like stick figures with tits and ass glued on.”

You groaned while Luke howled with laughter at Trevor’s defense of you. Calling you fat was somehow worse than big girl. Luke hadn’t said fat. Trevor hadn’t either, but his off the cuff remark that clarified what “type of big” you obviously were only drove home the idea that you took up too much space, one way or another.

Michael had taken a while to propose, and he always claimed that, while he loved you with his whole entire heart, he was nervous about getting married a second time. He started getting snippier with you and not wanting to have sex as often. His job was stressful, and he had been working tons of overtime to help pay for his part of the wedding. Thank god you kept your finances separate and never actually did walk down that aisle.

His late nights at the office were verified by his bigger paychecks, and you didn’t have a reason to be suspicious. You did think it was a little strange when he started getting up early to go to the gym so he’d “look nice for the wedding.” But hey, what a breath of fresh air, right? A man being the one concerned about how he was going to look in his wedding photos? Hitting the gym at an ungodly hour just to shed a few pounds? It was kinda like some weird form of feminist allyship, subverting societal body expectations. Right?

When you popped in to surprise him with a late dinner at work one night - you still had your keycard from your unpaid internship that nobody had remembered to disable – you found him balls deep in the tiny little blonde you later learned was the daughter of some higher up in the company that was “following in his footsteps at the company with an internship.”

Michael was such an uncreative asshole that he couldn’t even come up with a different meetcute for the leggy, fit blowup doll he’d replaced you with. At first you were enraged, but that quickly dissolved into despair. You were supposed to be getting married in 8 months. He was supposed to be the love of your life. You had wasted your 20s on this piece of shit, waiting around like a moron for him to decide he wanted to spend his life with you. 

So here you were, sweating your ass off, moving your shit several states away, and starting at square one. The dark, moody sky made you roll your eyes. You figuratively and literally had a little black cloud over your head that followed you everywhere. If the impending bad turn of weather could just hold off for a little bit, you could get your “FIRST NIGHT IN NEW PLACE” box unpacked and inside unscathed.

Of course it started pouring buckets about 5 minutes after you’d parked the van in the driveway of your rental. Your new home. Where you lived by yourself. Alone. That’s all you were now. Alone. You dragged in your soggy cardboard box of necessities, only unpacking your phone charger before plopping down on the bare mattress your parents had been nice enough to drop off before your arrival.

You spend the first night at your place crying yourself to sleep.

Texas had gotten hotter since you’d left. No way was it always this hot. You used to play outdoor sports here, for chrissakes. There was no way on earth it had always been the same temperature as Satan’s ballsack in a pair of wool underwear. Maybe it’s hotter because you’re fatter than before your inner voice suggested. You were drenched in sweat by the time 11am rolled around and you’d finished unpacking your small collection of belongings. You never realized how much of your Colorado apartment was mainly Michael’s stuff until you had to clear all your shit out for the move. Humble beginnings, I guess you think to yourself.

Your tank top stuck to your drenched back, and your thighs were slightly chaffed from the hard rub of denim over and over while you moved in. Your stupid, fat thighs and the stupid, fat chubrub they gave you. That unfortunately was something that hadn’t changed about Texas. You always carried your weight in your hips and butt, and your thighs came to join the party shortly thereafter. You had gained a few pounds after dating Michael for a year or so, settling into that comfortable couple space where you sometimes go for donuts when you know you shouldn’t or indulge in breweries too many weekends in a row. 

You were fat and happy together, though. Now you were just fat and sad all by yourself.

You stared at the lawnmower and imagined it bursting into a ball of flames. Your landlord had agreed to knock $100 off your rent if you mowed the lawn once a month. It was a no brainer, even if you had never mowed a lawn before. How hard could it be? Turns out, very.

You gave yourself a pep talk through figuring out how to put the gas into the stupid thing, but it had petered out into an irritated chant of “you piece of shit” and “fucking work, goddamit” when you couldn’t get it to start. You’d pulled and pulled and PULLED the stupid chord, but it wouldn’t start up. You wanted nothing more than to finish your chore and head inside before it got way too hot. You’d planned on already being finished by now. Michael had always made quick work of it, and if that room temperature IQ fuckwit could figure this out then so could you. Maybe.

When you pulled back again and nothing happened, something sort of cave woman happened in your brain, and you started kicking the mower in a fit of frustration. “FUCKING-PIECE-OF-SHIT!” you yell, accentuating each kick to the machine with a malice-laden word. When you propped your hands on your hips and took a step back to really give it a good, solid glare, you saw a man the next house over watching you with an amused look at the edge of his property.

“Need some help?” he called out, his smile growing.

“EVERYTHING’S GOING REAL FUCKING GOOD OVER HERE, BUT THANKS FOR THE OFFER,” you quip with way more acidity than this man deserved.

He took your stinging remark in stride and just smirked more. If he wasn’t so good looking you probably would’ve yelled at him for real. You needed a break and didn’t really care for your handsome neighbor to watch you fail at life, so you wordlessly stomped inside and plopped down with a bottle of water in hand. Was it too early for this water to turn into a beer? 11 am. Damn. You were pretty low these days, but you weren’t sure you wanted to take a trip down “drinking by yourself before noon” lane.

You sigh and play with the bottle cap as you try to ignore your growing embarrassment of being so rude to your hot neighbor. The sound of a lawn mower finally registers in your brain, and you scramble to the window to confirm your suspicions. Yep, there was your fine as fuck neighbor pushing your broken lawnmower around your backyard. It was definitely broken. He must have fixed it. It definitely wasn’t that you were entirely clueless about all this.

You groan and muster up some resolve before heading back outside. You wave at the absolute DILF-iest of DILFs you’ve ever seen in your life to get his attention. As though he was expecting you, he calmly turns off the engine and jerks his head up once in your direction.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out.

There’s that smile again. Damn, he must practice that in the mirror because holy shit it is very hard to think right now with him looking at you with it.

“Bein’ friendly to my new sailor-mouthed neighbor,” he drawled casually.

Goddamit. His voice was smooth and deep up close. And his hair, oh my god his hair. Peppery brown and slightly disheveled and wavy in all the right spots. And his eyes? Those puppy dog brown eyes that you thought just gave you a quick once over? You were kicking yourself for not being nicer earlier.

“Look, you don’t have to–”

“Name’s Joel Miller. What’s yours, sweetheart? And tell me quick, ‘cause I really think it might turn into Popeye if you don’t give me an alternative,” he teased.

Popeye? What on earth– Oh. Christ almighty. Right. Popeye. The “sailor man.” Because you have a “sailor mouth.” Okay, now the DILF was knocking out some dad jokes? You needed to find the box you’d packed your vibrator in that plugs into the wall after this little interaction.

“Kinda wanna tell you that you can call me whatever you want if you’ll just teach me how to turn that stupid thing on,” you say, motioning toward the traitor of a lawn mower.

“Hm, anything I want, huh? Temptin’. Maybe next time I’ll give ya a 101, but lemme just finish this up right quick.” Without giving you the chance to argue, he ripped the chord with a salivating flex of his bicep and resumed his task.

You awkwardly walked back up to your porch and tried to busy yourself with something. You didn’t want to go back inside and wait for him to finish. That’d be rude, him out in the sun doing your chores while you cooled off in the AC inside. You gave enough “lazy slob” vibes as it was. Luckily it didn’t take him much time at all to finish, and his sweaty brow was very distracting as he clambered up your steps. You had to keep your jaw shut when he pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe it across his forehead, revealing a respectably toned middle. He was fitter than you by far. Not that that was a hard feat.

This DILF to end all DILFs had a toned body that shouldn’t have been such a surprise to you after seeing his muscular arms as they maneuvered the lawn mower. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your tank top and denim shorts. You were sure you were bulging out all over the place and looked like a sweaty pig. You hated how easy it was these days to get down on yourself, but seeing the blonde bombshell Michael had traded you for was all you could compare yourself to. The phrase “you can’t compete where you don’t compare” turned over and over in your head.

“See? Easy. Now about that name…” he trailed off, smiling now with a mischievous, friendly look.

“Oh. Yeah, um. Roxanne. But Roxy is fine,” you say.

Joel tilted his head as though he was considering how your name stacked up to how you looked, to see if it fit you or not. Heat crept up your cheeks under his gaze, and a fresh wave of insecurity engulfed you.

“Pretty,” he remarked.

“Huh?” you ask, sounding dumber by the minute.

Joel just keeps smiling at you, no matter how braindead you sound. “I said pretty. Your name’s pretty. Fits you,” he said.

You really wanted to believe this man was flirting with you, but it was wishful thinking.

“Hmm. Th-thanks. Um. Do you want money or?” you clumsily offer. You didn’t want to send him off empty handed after he just did you such a big favor.

“Two beers,” he posed.

You went inside and grabbed two cold beers from the fridge and loped back outside, extending them to Joel. He opened them both and made himself comfortable in one of your patio chairs. He set the second bottle on the arm of the chair next to him and pulled a long swig from his bottle. You watched the bob of his adams apple as he swallowed, and you knew your panties were gonna be absolutely wrecked by the time you finished your beer.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” He tipped his bottle towards you and leaned back, comfortable as ever as if this was his porch and not yours. “Didn’t see ya movin’ in. Musta been in the middle of the night to unpack a whole house without anybody knowin’.”

“Eh, not hard to move when you’ve got less than 20 boxes of shit,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. He clearly hadn’t been thinking you’d come into your new place with bare bones belongings. Someone your age would have at least a few pieces of bigger furniture and a couple of boxes of niche hobbies.

“Rest of it comin’ later, or…?”

“Nope. That’s it. Just me and my less than 20 boxes and a piece of shit lawnmower.”

Joel chuckled, and you found yourself giving him a small, shy smile.

“So you the neighborhood watch captain? Keep tabs on all the fresh meat?”

He laughed like heading up a community group was as likely for him as you figuring out that lawn mower by yourself.

“No quite. Just didn’t realize I had a new neighbor, is all. No car in the driveway. House has been up for rent for a few months,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. I had a moving van, but I had to turn it back in to them a few days ago unless I wanted to pay for more days. They gave me a ride back. My parents are supposed to let me use one of their cars.”

You and Joel chatted back and forth about the neighborhood, how you’d grown up here and were now back - although you dutifully omitted the reason why - and what you did for work. When he told you he worked in construction with his brother in their small family business, it made a lot of sense. No wonder he was so toned.

Joel actually laughed when you told him you were an accountant. He didn’t believe you at first. When you started citing federal tax law addendums, he held his hands up in mock surrender. You laughed at his teasing. It felt nice to just interact with somebody without having to talk about your recent breakup and all the hard changes you’d been navigating.

“Should make you the poster girl for accountants because damn if I don’t imagine a blue haired lady sportin’ a big pink cardigan and goofy lookin’ glasses whenever I hear the word ‘accountant.’ You’d be the perfect brand image overhaul, sweetheart.” He chuckled, and you did your best to not think about how Michael had once told you that you were “too cute to be an accountant.”

“So, you got an accountant helping with your family business? Or are you just cookin’ the books?” you joke.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Nah, we got some somebody at H&R whatever, but the bigger we get the more it seems they wanna charge. Lots of confusin’ shit with all kinds of tax laws. Wouldn’t know if we were gettin’ ripped off by ‘em, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You weren’t sure why you offered. Maybe because he had been kind enough to offer you help and then mow your lawn for you even though you had been an ass. Regardless, you offered to look over some documents and paperwork if he really wanted another set of eyes on it. You dismissed him with the wave of a hand when he started talking about paying you for it.

“Two beers is my rate, Joel,” you say with feigned solemnity.

“Two beers? You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. I know you’re worth it, though. You free this weekend? Saturday mornin’?”

And that’s how you ended up with plans to help Joel go over his company’s financial information in two days time when Saturday rolled around.

Joel was singing your praises when you’d already found two instances where they could save some money by changing a few boxes on their taxes and getting things more streamlined with a different organization method for W2’s. You had applied for a few jobs in the area, but most of your pending applications were for virtual jobs that you could work from home. It was good to keep up practice in the meantime.

Joel made you lunch - a nice turkey sandwich with cheddar cheese. He’d mistakenly offered provolone, which you’d chosen, only to find that he had run out and could only offer cheddar instead. You teased him about being an awful host, but really you were glad to not have your favorite cheese on the sandwich because it would help you not eat as fast in front of him. 

You hated feeling like this. You’d spent so many years of puberty pacing your bites with those around you, afraid to eat faster than everyone else. Nobody even gave a shit. You were just so terrified of being humiliated for being the plus sized girl who got that way in the first place because she inhales her food.

“You always eat like a baby bird?” Joel questioned through a large bite of his own sandwich.

“Only when I’m trying to concentrate on taxes and finances,” you lied with a fake giggle. You felt like Joel clocked your put-on nonchalance, but he thankfully didn’t say anything even if he had.

You tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it away from your stomach. You caught Joel watching you do this, but again, he didn’t comment.

He did, however, raise a brow when you insisted you were “too full” to finish the entire sandwich. He played it off with a “damn, you really wanted provolone, huh?” You stuck your tongue out at him but dropped the playful demeanor the second he took the plates to the kitchen. Of course you were still hungry, but you weren’t going to gorge yourself in front of your super attractive neighbor. It wouldn’t kill you to cut a few calories here and there anyway, that familiar voice in your head points out.

Stupid, fat thighs the voice adds quickly, helpful as always.

You’re quick to adopt a smile when Joel comes back, but you aren’t sure you were quick enough for him to have missed the sad, fat, and alone girl’s real expression before flipping the switch.

It’s Saturday number two of your pro bono accounting skills. Well, it was actually a Thursday since Joel had some construction something or other this Saturday, but every day was a weekend when you were unemployed. 

You had already hung out with Joel three times this past week and shared a few celebratory beers over your work from home job offer that you’d accepted and would be starting next week. Conversation came easy with Joel. He talked about his daughter, who was away at school for the semester, and you realized he must feel very lonely without her home. At least you could relate to him on that level.

You tell him the reason for your move back to your home town. He actually seemed genuinely pissed off when you told him Michael was cheating on you with a pretty little blonde thing and had been for months. You scoffed when Joel said it was Michael’s loss to have fumbled a girl like you.

“Hey,” he asserted, making you pause from the sip of beer you were about to have. “I’m serious. He’s a dumbass for havin’ let you slip through his fingers. You’re funny and smart and got a good head on your shoulders. Sure, you can’t figure out a lawn mower, but we can’t all be perfect.” His goofy grin was a sweet little addition to his playful teasing.

Maybe it was the beer talking, but you couldn’t hold back. “Yeah, well. There’s something you left out of that list there, and it’s probably the reason he did cheat on me.”

Joel shook his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he had left out.

You laughed hollowly to yourself, swirling your beer mindlessly as you spoke. “Funny. Smart. Good head on my shoulders. But not pretty, right? Not attractive. Not skinny enough.”

Joel’s expression shifted into something sympathetic and warm, and you hated yourself for having just let that word vomit happen. 

“To be honest, sweetheart, I didn’t wanna say anythin’ that might make you uncomfortable. But I can give you a list a mile long with all the things that are beautiful about you. Inside and out.”

You flush at his appeal to your assets, but you know he’s just being nice. You were pathetic. You were going through a breakup from a relationship that had ended because your fiance was shoving his dick into his coworker. Of course Joel was going to try to boost your self-esteem and give you compliments.

When you didn’t respond, Joel placed his large, warm hand over yours. You looked at it and up to him. He grazed his other hand, a ghost of a curve against your cheek, like he wanted nothing more than to stroke your face and cradle your neck while he drew you into a long kiss and grabbed at your—

No. No he wasn’t. He was just being nice.

“I mean it. That prick is gonna look back and regret losin’ you.”

You wished you could believe him.

When Joel brought you a turkey sandwich for lunch on your second day of helping him, he made sure to point out the provolone. “Got it special for my girl, huh?”

Your tummy flipped at the way he called you his girl, but it was just another one of his terms of endearment that he probably used with everyone. He’d called you angel, sugar, honey, sweetheart, and even Popeye a couple of times. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t special.

When you pushed your half eaten sandwich away, Joel set his down and waited for you to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, it’s great. Thanks for the provolone, by the way. You didn’t have to do that. Really. I’ll um, I’ll just save the rest for later. I’m good for right now.”

Joel’s jaw clenched from side to side before he leaned over in the chair next to you.

“Darlin’, you should eat somethin’. Half a sandwich ain’t shit.”

You shrugged and insisted you weren’t hungry. Joel chewed his cheeks against his molars for a moment before adjusting in his chair and leaning in even closer than before.

“This about that asshole? Messin’ with that blonde?”

You froze at his words. You heart was about to leap out of your chest.

“N-No,” you lie. “I, um, I’m not sure what you mean, Joel.”

“What I mean is you got the idea that you’re not beautiful. That you can’t compare.”

You took a deep swallow to clear the lump in your throat. Your eyes were getting a little blurry. Dammit, you really didn’t want to cry in front of Joel. Not over this stupid bullshit.

“Just leave it, Joel,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the papers on the table.

“Not gonna do that, sweetheart,” he said firmly.

When you looked back at him, there was a dark hunger in his eyes. His usually lax, friendly features were drawn into a stony scowl.

“I meant what I said the other day. You’re beautiful. Everythin’. Everythin’ about you is beautiful.”

“Look, I appreciate you being nice and trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to–”

“You think I’m lyin’?” he challenged. You swallow hard at his commanding tone, and his words went straight to your pussy. You shook your head, feeling a little more convinced Joel might not be embellishing his opinion of you.

“Jus’ … Hard to think of myself that way, after…” You want to tell Joel every last detail of your life. Every time someone made you feel like you were eating too fast. Every time your friends got flirted with in the mall while you quietly hung at the back of the group. Every time you put something back on the rack after seeing how it accentuated the shape of your body too much to be a cute garment anymore.

Joel turned and was now angled directly at you with a knee tucking itself between your legs. His sinewy, large arm crossed your chest, his hand firmly planting onto the arm of your chair. He dipped his mouth right next to your ear. “You give me the word, sweetheart. Gimme the green light, and I’ll show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

You’d been here before. The guy begging to show you a good time but only ever ending as a hookup. You were never girlfriend material, but you were a warm, round body for them to get their rocks off for the night. You knew Joel was different. He wasn’t like that. But you still can’t bring yourself to say yes.

“Tell me,” you whisper. Joel pulled back to look at your face. “Just your words.”

“After you let me kiss those sweet lips of yours?” he countered. You nod yes. It was only a kiss.

Joel stood and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch. He tried to pull you onto his lap, but you knew he’d change his mind about all of this the second your too heavy body crushed his.

He tilts your chin for you to look at him after you sit. His eyes searched for any hesitation or unease. You can’t handle another rejection, so you lean forward. Joel meets you halfway and presses the gentlest of kisses against your mouth. It was feather light in a way that conveyed an intent to go slow rather than a hesitant partner.

His tongue gently flicks against your bottom lip, and you swallow a moan as you let him in. The kiss is agonizing in its slow, mindful pace as Joel makes no rush of exploring every part of your mouth. You suddenly feel very needy. You haven’t been kissed like this in a very long time. You pull at Joel’s shirt, dragging him on top of you as you lay back on the couch. His broad chest easily envelops you, and his large hands twitch with restraint to not smooth over every inch of you.

His grip tightens around your waist as he delves into a hungrier kiss. When he pulls back to adjust his body parallel to yours, the sight of your reddened mouth and blown out pupils almost have him crumbling into you.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “I just-I just want to feel pretty.” You curse the goblin part of your brain that tacked that pathetic sounding plea onto the end of your comment.

“Want me to start slow or you want me to tell you exactly what comes to mind?” he questioned with a flick of his tongue against your earlobe before drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

“Ohhh–ssh-shit– the s-second one,” you manage.

Joel’s deep chuckle sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout the first time we met. Wanted you even then. Kept thinkin’ about us sittin’ on your porch. The way you were holdin’ onto that beer bottle? All I could do was imagine how your pretty fingers would look wrapped around my cock,” he murmured into the shell of your ear. “Bringin’ it to those pouty little lips of yours. Goddamn I thought about your tongue on me, baby. Takin’ me in real good in your mouth. Lickin’ this cock that gets hard just for you. That wet, warm mouth just for me.”

Your breath hitches in between Joel’s incredibly specific and detailed account.

“And when you were havin’ that little spitfire spell’uh yours, kickin’ the lawn mower?” he continued, earning a moan from you in half arousal and half embarrassment remembering your temper tantrum that day. “When you kicked it, your tits jiggled all in that little tank top you had on. Had to stop myself from marchin’ over right then and there and shovin’ my dick right in between ‘em and fuckin’ ‘em.”

You would’ve rubbed your thighs together just for the friction right now, but Joel had slotted himself in between your legs and was pushing his hard-on against your clothed pussy in a teasing grind that was driving you insane. Your hips canted at the hint of contact.

“Sittin’ in those cute little cutoffs,” he groaned low. “Your thighs spreadin’ on the seat. Wanted to grab you up and make my face your new seat, baby. Wanted those thighs on either side of my face while you rubbed your pretty little cunt all over my mouth.”

“J-Jesus christ,” you whimper. This man was giving  you the dirtiest play by play of all the ways he’d envisioned himself exploring your body. Your pussy had already bottomed out by the time he got to the part about the lawn mower.

“‘N I jus’ know, baby, I just know it. Know your pussy is made to take this cock, baby. I know it’s perfect. Know it tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Know I’d fuck you ‘til you couldn’t think straight. Make you come on my cock over and over.”

Okay, maybe you could let him do more than just describe how much he wants you.

“‘N then after I work my tongue over you, ‘n after you take this cock so good, I’d grab you up, all to myself. Soft skin against mine. So soft, baby. Pull you in close and never let go. Press you right against me, hold you all night, cuddle up real close. Then wake you up with my dick hard against your perfect ass and fuck into that sweet little hole all over again.”

“Joel,” you whine. 

“Hhmmm?” he drawled innocently, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

“I-I think I changed my mind. About telling me and not showing me. I think that, um, I think I’d really like for you to show me h-how much you want me,” you mumble against his cheek.

“S’that right, honey? You want a little show n tell now?” he teased. For good measure he rocked himself against the apex of your thighs, causing your hips to jerk up involuntarily to meet the movement. He chuckled at your eager change of heart.

Joel wasted no time nibbling and sucking your neck and his hands snaked up your shirt and under your bralette. The pads of his thumbs circle your pebbled nubs, and you let out a choked sigh. He shoved your clothing off with a few tugs and stopped to marvel at your bare top half. “God, even better than I imagined.” 

His greedy eyes raked over every inch of you, a reverential gaze at your curvy figure. Heat spread between your legs when he dipped his mouth to your chest, leaving a wet trail with his tongue and lips in a freeform pattern before drawing your erect nipples between his teeth. Your back curved off the couch in a jerk at the delightful tease.

His hands covered large swaths of your abdomen where he enthusiastically massaged and kneaded into your flesh like he couldn’t grab enough of it at once. You lifted your hips when he pulled your shorts and panties off, and you would’ve been self-conscious about being completely nude while Joel was still fully dressed if you hadn’t seen the way his eyes glazed over with want as he absorbed the sight of you.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “So pretty. Been wantin’ to drink this pussy from the first time I saw you.” His eyes flitted up to your face with a degree of effort as though he had to tear his gaze away from your heavenly body. He searched your features, checking in and making sure you still wanted this. You nod in consent, and no sooner is his tongue lapping between your folds.

You fist a handful of his hair at the overwhelming feeling of wet heat against you, and Joel groans in a deliciously lewd way that takes you even closer to the limit. He lathes against your heat with the fervor of a devout addict, and you come with a slamming jolt when he simultaneously slips two large fingers into you and sucks your clit.

“There’s my girl,” he coos, working you with a steady drag and push of his fingers as you come down from your high. “Knew you’d look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone, baby.” Your first orgasm quickly rolled into a second when Joel drove a third finger into you with a steady thrust. You cry out, clenching around the painfully sweet stinging stretch of his fingers. 

You grab desperately at the tent in his pants. “S’about you today, baby,” he murmured into your thigh where he’s planting slow, sweet kisses. 

“Please, Joel. Want to see you. Taste you,” you rasp out, still pulsing weakly around his digits. You groan when he pulls his fingers from you and laps all the glistening slick from them before standing in front of you. You sit up in a rush, eager to see more of him. He obliges and unfastens his jeans. His impressively thick

length made you gasp when he sprang it free from his underwear. You don’t hesitate to fit as much of him into your mouth as you can, and he lets out a satisfied hum when his tip nudges the back of your throat.

“Shit, I’m gonna come, baby,” he croaked. Apparently working you over had done a number on him already, and it made you want him even more. You wordlessly released him in a sloppy, wet pop from your mouth and tilt your head back, stroking his length with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. When his breathing picks up and he’s on the edge, you stick your tongue out expectantly and continue to fist him until his hips stutter and jerk, his spend cascading onto your cheeks, lips, and tongue.

You both just sprawled out on the couch like two chalk outlines haphazardly jutting into odd angles on pavement. You giggled when Joel asked you if you believed him now, and you said he had indeed made a believer out of you. 

That was the first night you stayed over his place, and just like he had told you earlier that day, he scooped you in close to him, cuddling and shamelessly grabbing at your belly, thighs, and anywhere else he could reach while he peppered the back of your neck with kisses. It was the first time in a very long time that you didn’t once think about how much space you took up.

This one’s for all my baddie thickies out there!

I have hope that one day Miss Thickums® will come to love on herself a bit more because she deserves it, dammit. Also that and the fact that I get down bad for a lil Rubenesque cutie ha ha. 

I hope y’all liked this little pairing! I have been working on Endless Night and Feral Woman but couldn’t get this idea out of my head so I just churned it out. I’m a sucker for fluff and praise, so this was a nice detour from my heavier series (but you should def go check those out too lmao). 

I have so many more ideas for this pairing. I just know that AU friendly DILF neighbor Joel Miller has always been a “more cushion for the pushin” kinda guy and would love to nibble every pudgy roll on your body. His favorite spot is your lil muffin top. That’s my headcannon, and I won’t hear any differing opinions.

Let me know if y’all want more from these two. :)

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

[thedukeside]

It's hilarious that he made a video talking about Chappel Roan and people being up way too much in his business when nobody is doing anything lol. Like nobody is harassing you, your fan base of 12-15 year Olds want to know why you took a 4 year break from sanders sides without saying anything. I understand why he'd be frustrated with constantly having to cater to a younger audience but I don't understand why he doesn't even try to actually branch out. He's still censoring swearing, still making videos about childish topics, still doing the same shit he's been doing since 2016. Like if you want something different, do something different. Also sorry if I sound sensitive for saying this but why tf are you uploading pictures of you in your underwear on your insta story???? It's not a huge secret that his fan base is (mostly) underage, so why is he just...doing that? Idk even if he's not doing it for gross reasons, he's still doing it, and maybe should fucking know better???? He's closer to being 40 than he is 30 and he's doing stupid naive shit. I used to be a huge fan and supporter of his when I was younger (10-14) but now I'm 18 and seeing through a bunch of his weird shit and it's sucks. He's getting rid of/losing everything that made his channel fun, unique and interesting and it sucks seeing a huge part of my childhood and motivation for me to make art, going to dogshit. Also sorry for like ranting out of nowhere, literally nobody else in this Fandom is like speaking about this.

I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, but you're correct. Thomas creates content aimed at younger teens. That is not something that has ever changed. Which is why his channel has stagnated. The audience that funded him during his heyday are now adults. Who he also wants to cater to, but he's so afraid of losing what little revenue he has left, he refuses to take the leap.

That is why the finale has taken so long. Thomas has no idea who he wants to make content for. Or even if he really wants to make it at all. This creates a ripple effect. Overflowing into endless controversy, inappropriate conduct, and resentment from all sides. The best thing for Sander Sides to do now is go quietly, but I doubt Thomas has the gumption to actually put down the sick horse. Which is a shame. I think people would respect him a lot more if he did.

[spectrechosts]

Dressed Up To The Eyes - Chapter 6

Surprise!

Full Series

Jester was so, so fucking quiet.

Stealth was not her strong suit, nor were surprises, but this was important.

She loomed over Medusa, fast asleep, and gently gently gently so so gently uncoupled her faceplate and backed away from the bed. She took it to her table and set it down, her workspace illuminated by her dim phone light as she picked up a tiny screwdriver and got to work.

By all accounts it was a simple procedure, just take out the old chip and put in the new chip. This didn't stop Jester from sweating through the entire thing, hands shaking as she delicately replaced the component and reassembled the faceplate. Carried it back to the bunk and slotted it into Medusa's head.

Her eyes flicked open.

"Jester? What're you-"

She blinked and sat up, placing her hand to her cold metal jaw.

"Jester. Jester Jester Jester Jester-"

She spent a moment cycling through vocal settings, exploring the capabilities of the new chip.

"Jester, what the fuck?"

The voice she settled on was still rather monotone. Jester found that curious, but whatever, wasn't her choice to make.

"Surprise!" She said, beaming.

"Jester you should have asked me before doing this."

"If I asked you would have insisted you were fine with the old chip, even though we both know you weren't." Jester said, arms crossed. "I kept it anyway, we can swap it right back."

Medusa settled back into her bunk, rolled to face the wall.

"…I don't want to swap it back. It's just- It's complicated. Okay? I like it, I do."

Jester sat beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"So why's it complicated?" She asked.

"I don't know. It's a step."

"Steps are good."

"Steps invite opinions." Medusa grumbled. "A robot being a robot is one thing, a robot taking steps to pretend to be human is another."

"But you are human."

"For years I haven't been. The robot voice is detached, it's safe. People assume the mask is on purpose if you don't act like you want to take it off."

"We can put the robot voice back, if you need it."

Medusa sniffled, which was new. Non-word vocalizations used to come out as unintelligible tones.

"I don't want the robot voice." She sobbed. "I want to take the mask off so bad. I want a face and a body and if I let myself want them I don't know if I can handle not having them."

"It's okay, we can figure it out together. I've got your back every step of the way."

Medusa reached behind her and took her hand, pulling it close.

"It's not going to be easy. Or fast. And you are not surprising me with more parts you bought yourself, that isn't- I don't want to put that on you, and I don't want that hanging over me. This is a one-time thing."

"Yeah, totally." Jester said, nodding. "No more gifts. But this one is good?"

"Yes, it's good. Come back to bed."

~

As far as Jester could tell, if most people cared that Medusa had a slightly less robotic affect they weren't drawing attention to it. Benefits of scaring the shit out of everyone, she guessed.

The only one she knew had an opinion on it was Scáthach, because she was Medusa's partner and also scary and thus had no issue bringing it up.

With her, not Dusa.

"Uh, is her voice different? I hadn't-"

"Don't play dumb, clown. I'm trying to be nice here." She said, not sounding at all nice. "I know you know her deal, I know you did this, somehow."

"…Swapped the new chip in while she was sleeping."

Scáthach grunted, whether approvingly or disapprovingly she couldn't really tell.

"It's close enough to her voice. And she can sing, she was singing along with the radio on our way back from the last mission. She couldn't do that before."

"Y-Yeah, I guess the old chip wouldn't-"

"No, before before. Tone deaf, sounded like dogshit. Now? Perfect. It's different. Better, but different."

"Oh." Jester said. What was she supposed to say to that?

Another ambiguous grunt.

"Yeah. She's happy. You did good."

"Tha-"

"But. If you fuck this up, if you get her out of her shell and she gets hurt because of it-"

Jester nodded solemnly. "You'll kill me with laser beams."

"I will strap you to the heatsink of my rifle and let you fry as I kill other people with laser beams."

"Christ."

Amused grunt.

"Good talk, kid. Don't fuck up."