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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again.

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes.

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now.

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over.

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat.

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place.

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response.

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads.

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response.

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”

“Kk! C u soon <3”

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup.

Lots and lots of fucking syrup.

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning.

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty.

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning.

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee.

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words.

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more.

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues.

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear.

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup.

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?”

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes.

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.”

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment.

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun.

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode.

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree.

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy?

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand.

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought.

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why.

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds.

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close.

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap.

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now.

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name.

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious.

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day.

So there were four remedies to your situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel.

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl.

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk.

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees?

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day.

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?”

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good."

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes.

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core.

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware.

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery.

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond.

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.”

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–”

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?”

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.”

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort.

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel.

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night.

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths.

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him.

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney.

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay.

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks.

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it.

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it.

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you.

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?"

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh.

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles.

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might.

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending.

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire.

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether.

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him.

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty.

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly.

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet.

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact.

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically.

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory.

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss.

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago.

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you.

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still.

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him.

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg.

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone.

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging.

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you.

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.”

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine.

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up.

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry.

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands.

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care.

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below.

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says.

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table.

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.”

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you.

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him.

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth.

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin.

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth.

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.”

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release.

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck.

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him.

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride.

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says. He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.”

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked.

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners.

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him.

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup.

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

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great-axepectations · 1 year

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Imagine you watch these family friendly minecraft youtubers. Not necessarily for children, but it's wholesome entertainment for all ages. Then they say "hey, we're going to start a quick little hardcore series! Three lives and you're out!" And you think "ok yeah this sounds fun, I'll watch it."

And it is silly goofy funtimes! The first death is hilarious, and it's still the good clean fun you're used to. As it goes on, the dynamics between characters are getting interesting and more people are losing lives but it's still lighthearted fun.

AND THEN SUDDENLY IT'S GAME OF THRONES

Loyalty is sworn through blood oaths. Armies are assembled. There are epic large-scale battles. People are dying off for real and it's actually really impactful. One of them is roleplaying his grief so convincingly that his friends think something is wrong irl. There are deep, heart-wrenching betrayals that players are actually devastated by. None of this is scripted, by the way. All of the character arcs, narrative foils, and foreshadowing was completely organic and by accident.

AND THEN THE ENDING

So you know at the end of the first Hunger Games book where the two who have been together from the beginning have won, and the megalomaniacal evil game runners expect them to kill each other, but they find a way out of it? Instead of the game runners demanding they kill each other, it's the ghosts of all of their dead friends and enemies screaming for their blood. And instead of finding a way out of it, the last two go back to the burned-out remains of their home and reluctantly punch each other to death. And the whole time they're laughing and crying and apologizing to each other, and the winner is immediately so overcome with grief that he throws himself off a cliff to his death.

AND THEN THEY ALL GO BACK TO MAKING THEIR WHOLESOME FAMILY-FRIENDLY MINECRAFT CONTENT

LIKE SORRY I'M SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL AFTER THAT???

#I wrote this because I heard some people didn't watch 3rd life live so I wanted to sum up the experience #or to explain it to a complete outsider #3rd life smp #3rd life #trafficblr

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calypso707 · 5 months

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hey i adore your writing!

i was wondering how astarion would take care of his s/o who suffers from migraines and severe photosensitivity. my friends always call me a vampire because of it so i thought it’d be a funny dynamic 😆

this one is actually funny because i suffer from migraines as well, so here we are! I don't know if I'm proud of what I've written, but it was fun to do! enjoy! ❤

OS - Astarion x gn drow reader : Simple things.

Living on the surface had proved more complicated than the Underdark. Being born, growing up and spending a significant part of your life in the darkness had certainly had its advantages, but now that you were living on the surface, you realised just how different things were. Whether it was people's lifestyles or all those bright colours. So yes, there were bright colours in the Underdark, but they were often signs of danger, such as explosive mushrooms or plants releasing deadly spores.

You may have been used to the dark and could see in the night better than your companions, but constant exposure to the sun had its drawbacks. So, sure, it was nice to feel the light warming your skin, you could now appreciate things like the colour of the sky, listen to birdsong or even hear the sound of the wind, but your eyes still couldn't handle so much brightness. And on top of that, you had a tadpole in your skull that was not only making its own little nest but was also giving you migraines on a regular basis.

But you still tried to stay positive, because thanks to all the adventures you'd been through, however farfetched, you'd met your current companions, who had turned out to be loyal allies and faithful friends.

And above all, you had met Astarion.

A magnificient two-century-old vampire.

It was almost poetic, two beings of darkness who found themselves having to survive under the sun. So what was it between you two? It was a tricky question, but you cared about him as much as he cared about you, and knowing that was more than enough. Though, Astarion was handling the conditions and opportunities this adventure offered him better than you were. He had always loved sunbathing as soon as the first lights appeared. You enjoyed them too, but in small doses.

While you were enjoying a moment's respite from this chaotic and probably deadly mission, you had given yourselves a break and were strolling through the alleys of Baldur's Gate. Astarion was describing the things his former master, Cazador Szarr, had made him do, a certain bitterness in his voice. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sun was at its zenith, there were no clouds in the sky to dim its brightness and you felt as if your eyes were burning and your skull was splitting in two.

"Are you even listening when I am talking to you?", grumbled Astarion.

"Sorry… Can we take a short break?" you asked, using your hand to shade your eyes as you looked at him.

"My dear, are you sure that you are not a vampire?" said Astarion with a smirk.

"Hilarious" you sighed.

You took a few steps into the shadow under a stall on the main street leading to the Wyrm's Rock fortress. Astarion was looking at you with a slightly concerned expression; he seemed to be thinking.

"Hm.. I think I have an idea. Stay put." It was almost an order.

Before you could reply, he was heading off into "Carm's Garm" shop. You wondered what had gone through his mind. You decided to wait for him and you leaned against the stone wall behind you, watching the passers-by go about their business, carefree. You listened the trout seller shouting about how fresh his fish were and the wholesaler who was delighted with his harvest.

Long minutes passed, during which you examined everyone who passed in the street. You didn't hear Astarion come back, and you were startled when he cleared his throat once he was beside you. You looked at him and noticed that he was holding several hats under his arms. You tried to hide your smile but it was complicated.

"Let's see…" He put the pile of accessories at his feet and picked up a first hat and placed it on your head. It was a sort of pointy wizard's hat with hideous embroidery that went all the way around, and before you could even give your opinion, Astarion took it off, shaking his head and frowning. "Awful"

He then picked up a sort of adjustable steel helmet, and didn't even take the time to let you try it on before he tossed it aside, doing the same with a brightly coloured top hat. Finally, he took a simple brown hat with silver wings embroidered on the stiff leather and placed it on your head as gently as possible. The brim of the hat was wide enough to keep your face in the shade.

He stood back and examined you for a few seconds, his index finger resting on his chin: "Hm.. I think this one will do, darling. Of course, I still am the fashion icon of our group, but I can assure you you are not far from it now."

You readjusted your hat slightly and took a long look at him, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile. You were pleasantly surprised by his gesture and his words made you chuckle. Astarion moved closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders, pressing them lightly as you put yours against his chest.

"I am impressed, so you are able to do sweet things." you said.

"Sweet? What an idea" He grinned before tilting his head to the side, a thin smile on his lips. "It just should not be so unbearable to enjoy the simple things of life."

And he was right.

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

thanks for reading this OS, i hope you liked it!

don't hesitate to read my other writings on Astarion! ❤

Astarion x gn druid tav : On your skin.

Astarion x gn tav : No place for love.

Astarion x gn tav : A thousand thanks.

Fiction - Astation x fem!tav bard : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

#romance #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion vampire #baldur's gate iii #astarion x gn reader #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion my beloved #astarion ancunin #astarion x gn!tav

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wasawattpadkid · 1 year

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Housewife

Part - 19

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

Dewey looked at the boy with pity. Billy's right hand was wrapped in a white cast. He had spent an hour in the hospital setting his broken hand back in place. It was way worse than getting stabbed according to him. The officers on duty all thought the boy was hilarious. The makeup paired with the outfit he was a walking joke. Dewey only made matters worse. His coworkers almost died laughing watching the deputy sign his name on Billy's cast.

"I hear Batman is getting released," Todd said leaning on Dewey's desk. "Yes, Billy is being released I already called someone to pick him up." The deputy left his seat on his way to talk to the inmate.

"Stu said he's on his way," Dewey said taking a seat outside of the holding cell. Billy hadn't spoken much. The few times he did it was to give his statement on what happened or ask if you were okay. He didn't care about anything else. Billy was too busy planning on killing the fucker that laid his hands on you. "Did he say how Y/n was doing?" The boy's gaze stayed glued to the moldy ceiling. "No, just that he'd be on his way to pick you up. I told him about your hand." Billy looked at the deputy with a scoff. "That's great."

"What did you think he's going to miss that when he shows up to get you?" Billy had begged the doctor just to set his hand and leave it be. Turns out they can't do that. Now he was stuck with a heavy cast with Dewey's name on it. He didn't even agree to that the deputy just grabbed a marker and did it.

"I know seeing that mask set you off. That and what happened to Y/n. Look, you're not in any trouble. If Daniel decides to press charges the county won't prosecute you. It'd be a waste of time. You were protecting her and after all that's happened you don't need to worry about this." Dewey's change of heart confused Billy. Every time he's run into the officer he's been met with nothing but disdain and hostility. Now Dewey wants to act like his friend. "What happened to you? You hated me just days ago." Billy sat up on the bench making eye contact with the man.

Dewey realized what you said that day in the office was true. The three of you needed to look out for each other. At the end of the day, he felt bad for all of you. The ghost of the massacre would follow the survivors for as long as they lived. They were just kids. No one deserved what happened to them that night. Dewey hated himself for living through it and he was sure the three of you felt similarly. Survivor's guilt they call it. He read a book about it.

He pulled off his hat sitting it neatly on his lap. "It's been 26 days since I lost Tatum... Even less since the funeral. I can still hear her sometimes." His eyes focused on his shoes as he talked. "I couldn't save her. For a while I blamed Stu. How could her boyfriend who loves her let that happen? I know that Neil was the one who took her but I guess I needed someone else to blame." Dewey leaned forward looking up at Billy through the bars.

"I care about Y/n like I know you do. I treated you and Stu poorly because I saw what happened to the people you loved. That was messed up, I get that now and I'm sorry. I don't want her to go through what my sister did. You did a damn good job of taking care of her tonight."

Billy sat in silence. He didn't feel bad about what he did to Tatum. Neither did he feel bad about what he did to Sydney. It was necessary to move on with his life to start over. He felt It was fair considering what the Prescott family took from him. Maureen's choices shouldn't have fucked up his whole life but they did. Billy just leveled the playing field.

Listening to Dewey's sob story almost made the boy sick to his stomach. He didn't feel bad about what he did rather he felt horrible that he didn't care. Dewey wasn't his friend or his brother, he shouldn't care about his feelings. Yet here he was feeling sorry for the officer. "I can't lose her," Billy spoke in something akin to a whisper. His voice was broken almost as much as his hand.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders. You won't. After the stunt you pulled tonight I'd say she's in good hands." Dewey did think it was odd that Billy was able to move on so quickly from Sydney. He guessed that the boy was trying to fill the hole that abruptly appeared. Dewey couldn't blame him. He was doing the same thing. Where did that leave you though? After all of this, he didn't want you to get more hurt than you already had been. "You think so?" Billy asked loving the idea of protecting you. What he did at the party felt good. Feeling that fuckers bones crack beneath his hand was exhilarating. Of course, he wished he didn't have to do it. He hated the fact he let it happen. The details of your attack were lost on Billy. All he saw was the masked boy pining you to the wall as his hands pulled at your dress.

"I do. Just maybe take it easy for a while?" Dewey smiled lighting up the conversation. "I'll try." Billy nodded. "Deputy, Can I speak to you for a moment?" Another officer called Dewey away leaving Billy alone in the cell.

Billy looked down at his cast trying not to pick at it. He didn't like having it on. It was a nuisance to put it lightly. The doctor told him he'd have to wear it for at least six weeks. Frankly, he didn't think he could make it that long mainly because of the name written in black ink on the cast. "Billy?" Dewey spoke walking into the room. His keys jangled as he opened up the cell door. "Stu's here to pick you up."

Once all the paperwork was done and signed Billy was finally allowed to leave the county jail. "Oh, she's going to kill you," Billy said looking at your car in the parking lot. Stu was upset. Billy hadn't said one word to him. Not a "thank you," "glad to see ya," "go fuck yourself," nothing. "Me? What about you?" Stu spat getting into the driver's seat.

"What about me? I saved her from that creep." Billy thought he was your knight in shining armor. You kept him fed and he kept you safe. After all, that's what you wanted right?

"You told the whole town you two were dating. Billy, you knew she wanted to wait." Stu drove while Billy rolled his eyes. "They were going to find out eventually. Everyone already thinks you two were fucking behind Tatum's back." Stu kept his eyes on the road. "Don't talk about her." After his talk with Dewey, Stu felt differently about a few things. "Jesus, what crawled up your ass tonight?" Stu hit the brakes making Billy's head hit the dash. "What the fuck!" The boy yelled holding his now bleeding head. "It's four in the morning. I just had to drive across town to pick you up from jail and you haven't said thank you. I begged Dewey not to call your dad to save you from the fight that was bound to happen and still, no thank you. Do you give a shit about me at all? Cause lately I feel like the only one you pay attention to is little Miss Betty Crocker. If I have to put on an apron for you to give a fuck I will. Is that what it's going to take?"

Billy's head pounded and Stu's yelling didn't help. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? My fucking hand is broken and you're upset that I didn't say thank you? You didn't even give me the chance. Where were you when she was getting attacked?" Stu's demeanor changed as he seemed to shrink. "You told me to get water-"

"That's right you were getting her water because you just had to give her alcohol. If you would've just gotten me and you a beer none of this would've happened. Don't jump my ass because all of this is your fault." Stu's face was red as tears weld up in his eyes. He gassed up the car driving in silence. The streetlights were smeared by his tears making it harder to see. This was his fault. That was what he told himself over and over. He was the one being selfish. He hadn't even noticed the bright white cast covering his partner's hand.

While Stu beat himself up over something he had no control over Billy cursed himself for yelling. "I'm sorry for shouting." Billy broke the silence. Stu sniffled trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry for jumping your ass." He responded quietly.

Billy turned towards the driver sighing at the sight. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's Daniel's." Stu rounded the corner sending a glance to Billy. He didn't know his partner knew your assailant. "Daniel?" Stu asked. "Daniel Lawson. I heard Dewey say his name when talking to some other asshole." Stu looked over at his friend seeing that gleam in his eyes he hadn't seen for a while. "What are you thinking?" Billy smirked already having a plan. "I'm thinking we're about to have one less student attending Woodsboro high school."

By the time Stu pulled into the garage both men had smiles on their faces. Stu was happy to have his partner in crime back. It was probably unhealthy that the time he felt closest to Billy was when they were planning a murder. This was something only the two of them shared. Billy didn't want to include you because he saw you as too innocent to partake in such a depraved act. Even after what you did that night at Stu's place. To put it simply it was men's work.

Stu didn't want to include you because he had Billy to himself. It was their little secret this time. Stu would make sure you wouldn't find out about it. It was a win for everyone involved. Your attacker would disappear and Stu got to spend quality time with his boyfriend. It was a win win scenario.

"I'm going to take a shower and get something to eat before I head to bed." Billy pulled his boots off sitting them by the door. Stu stood behind his lover starting to kiss his neck softly. All the planning had stirred something inside of the short-haired boy. "Stu..." Billy warned not really in the mood. That didn't stop him however as his hand slowly slid down the front of Billy's outfit. "I'm tired." He spoke trying not to hurt Stu's feelings. His hand slipped underneath Billy's pants making him pull away. "Enough, alright? I'm tired and I'm hungry. I'm not in the mood right now."

Billy's hand was still killing him and his stomach was fighting for attention. Not to mention the throbbing headache he now had thanks to Stu. The last thing on his mind was sex unfortunately for his partner. Billy didn't mean anything by it. It wasn't personal but Stu took it as such.

"Whatever I'm going to sleep. You'll probably have more room on the couch than the bed." Stu walked upstairs leaving Billy with a headache. He was used to Stu's mood swings they happened ever so often. That along with an occasional manic episode. If he was lucky Stu would wake up in a better mood. Billy rubbed his face stopping halfway realizing too late he had makeup on. "Fuck..." He cursed.

Billy walked into the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich. He decided he would eat first and then take a shower. It was a funny sight. The man covered in makeup and blood stains was sitting at the kitchen table trying his best to eat a sandwich with his left hand. Once it was gone he put his plate in the sink, he'd wash it later. Billy decided to use the downstairs bathroom not about to suffer Stu's wrath once again.

Showering was more difficult than anticipated. The more he struggled to get his shirt off the more aggravated he got. "God damnit!" He cursed a little too loud. "Stupid..." He whispered to himself. With a couple of deep breaths, he went into the kitchen grabbing a pair of scissors. It wasn't an easy task to cut the shirt from his body. The doctor at the hospital cut the duct tape and the sleeve of his shirt off leaving room to put on the cast. Funny enough he left Billy to suffer with the rest of the fabric. His hand fumbled with the scissors struggling to get them to cut anything.

His yelling had woken you up. You could still feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins. Thankfully it was less aggressive than before. Stu was laying sideways in the bed drooling onto your pillows. "Guess everyone had a rough night." You grumbled pulling yourself up from the bed.

You threw on your robe before heading down the stairs. Billy was home. His cursing and mumbling gave him away. "What are you doing?" Your eyes were squinted, offended by the white light in the bathroom. "Babe thank fuck. Cut this." He held the scissors towards you while you just stood confused. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust.

"What happened to your face?" You moved forward to run a finger over the dried blood. "Police brutality." He raised his eyebrows at the joke which didn't make you laugh. "Your arm..." You noticed the cast branded with Dewey's name. Gently you reached out inspecting the cast. "Don't ask." Billy shook his head at the signature. "How bad did you break it?" Just like that the whole scene replayed in your head. For a minute or two you watched your boyfriend turn into something you couldn't describe.

It was scary. You remembered how he looked when he was chasing you in the mall a few days after you moved. It was that same terrifying look just directed at someone else.

"They said I broke four knuckles, nothing too horrible." It was horrible. Some of the worst pain that boy ever felt but he wouldn't tell you that. You huffed a laugh. "How are you feeling?" He asked running his left hand over your head. Billy's eyes looked you up and down. You knew what he was wondering. "I'm okay. He didn't get that far if that's what you're asking." Billy shook his head. "It doesn't matter how far he got Y/n he shouldn't have touched you at all."

You grabbed the scissors slowly cutting the fabric off his body. "Are you upset that he touched me or are you upset that he hurt me?" The question was asked calmly. Billy didn't understand the difference between the two questions. To you however the difference was great. You seriously doubted Billy would've acted that same way if it was some other girl.

Billy chose his words carefully seeing you had scissors and all. "I'm not upset, I'm furious." His fingers grabbed your jaw lifting your chin. Your hands stopped, waiting for him to say something. Billy's eyes wandered your face his heart squeezed at the thought of anything happening to you. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you tonight. I didn't know what he was doing. I heard you say my name and I saw his hand under your dress. I blacked out for a second." It was a bullshit excuse. He remembered every thought that flew through his brain. Billy could recite the boy's pained pleas if you asked him to. Now was the time to play up the boyfriend act. As days went on it got easier for him to do.

His eyes softened as he spoke. It was funny how things came full circle. You met Billy because of some bully trying to see down your shirt. That was the first person he ever hit. Now look at the two of you. Both of you were broken but somehow you were looking out for each other.

"You think you embarrassed me?" You pulled away from his touch. Everyone would be talking about it. You knew that, but Billy almost killed a man with his bare hands and he's worried about the scene he caused.

"You're not embarrassed?" Billy cocked his head to one side. You started to peel off the cut up shirt as you spoke. "No. I'm scared, I-I'm worried but I'm not embarrassed. Do you think I'm embarrassed of you?" That was one of Billy's concerns. That after tonight you wouldn't want anything to do with him. He knew if the roles were reversed he'd probably never leave his house again. Fearful of what people might say. You looked the man up and down. He looked broken literally and figuratively. "The guy wanted to see my scar. I think he had more to drink than I did." You laughed trying to make a joke out of the serious conversation. "It was scary, I thought... something bad was going to happen and it might have. I don't know. You stopped him before anything seriously fucked up happened so thank you."

You tossed the ripped pieces of the shirt in the trash almost falling over from spinning too fast. "Baby," Billy said as he grabbed your arm stabilizing you. "Still feeling it huh?" He smiled. "I'll never do this again." You promised but Billy doubted that. Billy knew by the way you and Stu danced that you two would have partying in common.

"I bet." He said turning on the shower so the water could warm up. "Make sure you scrub your face good. You don't want to break out." Billy nodded at your advice. "Are you going back to bed?" You yawned at the mention of sleep. "I'm exhausted. I'll save you a spot in bed okay?" Billy watched you walk into the hallway. "Okay, I won't be long." You shut the bathroom door behind you going back up to your room.

You tried to be normal about it all. Part of you swooned over what he did. In some sick twisted way, you enjoyed seeing him defend you the way he did. It made you feel invincible which was a dangerous feeling. The other part of you however feared the man you began to love. He could keep you safe from everyone but himself. Stu's behavior at the party was unsettling as well. The violence was more important to him than you. He rushed to your side but his shouting didn't stop. The fight was thrilling for Stu.

With a heavy heart and head, you threw your robe over the chair crawling into bed next to Stu. "Scoot." You shoved the boy forcing him to move to the side of the bed. Stu rolled over his back facing you. Deep in sleep, he grabbed your hand pulling your arm over his waist. With a small smile, you pulled him in effectively snuggling up to the man.

You didn't know how things would go. The headache you had could've been the alcohol or your overthinking. You were scared of the future. For too long you had lived on a day-to-day basis. It was nice for a while but eventually, you'd have to face the music. Something had to give.

Billy pulled on a pair of boxers along with a t-shirt before heading to bed. Stu had you wrapped in his arms leaving plenty of room for Billy. Carefully he climbed into bed not wanting to wake up either of you. He wasn't happy with the way things played out. Daniel should be dead not just concussed with a broken nose. Billy didn't give a shit about the details of your attack. That son of a bitch laid a finger on you, the one thing Billy promised to prevent. Daniel didn't know it yet but he was a dead man walking.

Taglist (closed): @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @zeysartzone @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum @geekygremlin @madneedshelp

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adyophene · 1 month

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Husk an Adam is so crazy of a ship but I legitimately start indulging with it more when a GOLDEN comic was made with Adam using all cats are girls and dogs boys logic while flirting with husk.

Husk was so caught off guard by the stupidity he froze while Adam was like “hell yeah look how smart I am. Love your tits out approach btw”

And that’s the only dynamic I see the relationship as.

One VERY jock meatheaded dumbass x one who is constantly left speechless at the sheer ignorance and stupidity of them

Adam/Husk, I do agree, is a completely wild idea of a ship and I do find it hilarious that I have made anyone even consider shipping it! I'm sorry or you're welcome, which ever is applicable for you!

I know for a ship name, I did like the idea of ' Rockroulette '!

#not art #poor husk would lose braincells second he'd interact with adam

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weepingpalaceathletelight-blog · 3 months

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There's a difference between shipping two characters and acknowledging the intense (usually gay) bond between characters. You guys get what I mean, right? Like I'm not just going insane?

Like a BSD example:

-I casually ship Louisa X Lucy because I feel like their dynamic could work in a romantic context and because I love it when girls are in love and they both deserve to be happy 🩷

-HOWEVER Chuuya and Dazai have an intense bond, they are one soul in two bodies, written and designed to compliment the other, Chuuya trusts Dazai with his life and vice versa, Dazai believed in Chuuya's humanity from the very beginning, their old and sorted dynamic, Chuuya being like the only one who understands Dazai's motives, and so, knowing all of this, I simply have no choice but to acknowledge their homosexuality because if I don't then I'm just being willfully ignorant

Or a MHA example:

-I somewhat ship Dabi x Hawks because it's hilarious whilst also having beautiful potential for angst

-BUT Bakugou and Midoriya quite simply just are gay as shit for each other and I have no choice but to accept it. Rivals constantly pushing the other, their complicated history and how they've both grown because of it, their understanding of the other, Bakugou basically trusting Midoriya with his fears and insecurities, Bakugou being the first to know about One for All, Kaachan Bakugou.

Or a MTP example:

-I guess you could say I ship Microsoft X Albert because I think it's sorta very funny and extremely plausible.

-MEANWHILE William and Sherlock are like the only person who understands each other and can keep up with them and Sherlock is diving off of buildings and cradling William's head as they fall (in love).

Or a JJK example:

-I kinda ship Maki X Nobara because I can and I want to and they could work

-ALTERNATIVELY Gojo and Geto where each others one and only best friend, best friend they ever had, knows his smell, his heart and soul know otherwise. They're just disgustingly in love and I hate it but there's nothing I can do about it except cry

Or a Haikyuu example:

-I do ship Hanamaki X Matsukawa because lord is it hilarious and the fanon presentation of a romantic relationship between them is always the funniest thing ever and the fics are so good

-YET Hinata and Kageyama are exactly what the other needed, Kageyama found his better half, their constant pushing of the other to do better, promises fulfilled and matches won, casual moments and casual touch. I did not choose to see them in a romantic light, they forced me to. I am a victim

Or a Merlin example:

-I dabble in shipping Percival X Gwaine purely because I can and no one is gonna stop me

-ALTHOUGH Merlin and Arthur are so gross and icky and care about each other so much and repeatedly risk their lives for the other and Arthur asked Merlin to hold him whilst he dies and Merlin spends forever waiting for Arthur's return. I just can't view them platonically or something after everything I've seen them do and I don't believe anyone who says that they truly don't seem them as romantic or at least something other than platonic or brotherly because how could you not??

Or a Doctor Who example:

-I could ship the Doctor X Jack because that's actually class

-UNFORTUNATELY that would be asking me to ignore the Doctor and Rose. He burned up a sun to say goodbye. He loved her. She loved him, was willing to never see her mother again if it meant she stayed with him. I'm sorry but cmonnnn

Nah but you get what I mean, right? Like I don't 'ship' these people, they're just IN LOVE and I hate them for it.

#shipping #thoughts #bkdk #bsd #skk #mha #mtp sherlock #sherliam #jjk #satosugu #haikyuu #kagehina #shobio #merlin #merthur #doctor who #rose tyler

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thefangirltreehouse · 1 year

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sebastian sallow | general thoughts / headcanons with gryffindor!mc

this is just overall thoughts on the sebastian arc and his general characterisation (yes, i am continuing to update this on my second playthrough)

spoilers below

the amount of times i’ve caught sebastian looking at mc through the start of my now second play-through is hilariously adorable, like don’t get me wrong the herbology one is absolutely the best, but i noticed that throughout charms sebastian is just staring at mc (like he’s straight up starts ignoring ominis speaking to him when they walk in the room) also the slight glances in defence against the dark arts before the duel is so cute.

he does it again whilst sirona and rookwood are arguing, like he just turns to them and similes

you can’t convince me otherwise that mc didn’t grab at least his arm to pull him away from ranrok, like it genuinely looks like that and if you squint hard enough it looks like he does the same thing when heading into the three broomsticks

listen i’m specifically playing as fem! & gryffindor! and the missions with ominis feel so reminiscent of the golden trio (i’m calling it now, they’re the electrum trio - a metal mixed with gold and sliver) especially the crucio side-mission

saw someone in a comment sum their dynamic up perfectly from my perspective

“i used to have beef with ominis before this (crucio) quest happened and now it’s me, a gryffindor dragging two slytherins by their shirt collars”

slight tangent but ominis is so sweet if you start as a slytherin! i saw my friend start his game and meet him in the common room and i was like “i’m sorry, is this the same tory bastard that yelled at me for nicking his pal?”

if anything sebastian comes off worse in that section.

almost every streamer i’ve came across assumes he’s flirting, like this was absolutely intentional

when either of the boys, particularly sebastian is speaking to imelda and the conversation of mc comes up she absolutely refers to mc as “that gryffindor of yours”

i mean, it’s the age old rivalry that just gives everything that extra oomph! despite the fact nobody seems to be questioning that a gryffindor has closely befriended not one, but two slytherins because that certainly isn't suspicious (i'm surprised one of the gryffindors didn't bring it up - particularly leander)

speaking of leander, why are the more prominent gryffindors (and ravenclaws) so antagonistic or hellbent on getting us in trouble?

sebastian’s jealously towards both his friends is dripping in the crucio quest like, in the line below i know he means because mc and ominis have special abilities but...

"between the two of you, i'm starting to feel left out"

the constant proud "that's my girl" look on his face

"never know who's watching - although that hasn't stopped us before." "strictly speaking, it has. we were caught."

also at the start of the library mission, anyone notice the way he's casually waiting on mc against the banister smiling up at her? or whilst he's waiting on her and ominis to figure out the location of the scriptorium? like, this boy knows he's the shit.

listen, there are certain things that sebastian said and did during his storyline that even at that age, i would’ve noped out of but i went in with a “yes, corrupt the little goody-two-shoes gryffindor madly infatuated with you” attitude and honestly it was so much fun. cause objectively yeah, sebastian should be expelled at the very least but my mc was not gonna let them do that (they're very much giving jd and veronica)

that said, mc isn't about to let him walk all over her, she's a gryffindor for a reason, she's just had some misguided judgement

don’t love how there isn’t much of a reaction from either boy after crucio is cast on mc, especially from sebastian (again, massive red flag) but also, think the devs missed the mark on that one like sebastian is still mc’s friend, yeah he really wants to see anne healed but a little sympathy shown would’ve been nice and a proper acknowledgement of what'd he'd done.

even if sebastian shrugged it off quickly he should've helped them walk or at least offered a hand to stand up

i love the wee house jibes, i wish we got more of them!

"you're not a bad chap, for a slytherin" "you gryffindors don't have a monopoly on bravery y'know"

an awful lot of english folk in the scottish highlands

sebastian and poppy are talking whilst leaving a class and my brain was like “omg her bf + gf are talking!”

i want triwizard and yule so badly!

the red and the green / gold and silver looks, look so good!

mc makes a comment about how amazed sebastian will be when she tells him that she took down the ashwinders by herself

"it'd be wise to keep an eye on you"

_____

general headcanons (oc-ish)

he'd absolutely mutter continuous little digs and comments throughout their classes simply to get under her skin and make her smile whilst she's trying to listen to their professors (he used to do this to ominis but he's able to ignore sebastian now after years of the torment)

whilst having dinner in the great hall they won't be sitting together but they'll lightly tap or nudge one another on the back if they're passing behind each-other's designated tables

sebastian refers to the fat lady painting as the "golden gate keeper of mediocrity" after walking mc back to gryffindor tower, which earns him a mildly deserved elbow jab

he gives mc piggy-backs during their trips to hogsmead and the quidditch pitch

whilst she's walking to and from classes with cressida or natsai, sebastian is regularly seen inserting himself between them, putting an arm over mc and / or pinching her away over to ominis and nerida

"who would've thought, all it took was a snake to tame the lion" cressida noted to a disinterested leander, peering over at the scarlet robes peaking beneath the sea of green

mc likes to softly poke at his blushing cheeks, joking that if sebastian "gets any redder, he won't be allowed back into slytherin" or that "he might have to come back to gryffindor with her"

mc has on occasion accidently fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder during history of magic

most of the gryffindors (nellie, leander and garreth in particular) will tease sebastian as he waits for her outside the common room, claiming "she was ours first" and attempt to distract her for as long as possible beyond the painting just to 'knock 'im down a few pegs'

they're well aware she's highly capable of holding her own, but not only is he a slytherin, he's also sebastian sallow so they're protective

he much prefers bumping into natty, who'll make a light "lost puppy" joke, share laugh and proceed to actually go get mc or he would actively seek out lucan because he knows the kid sucks-up to him but eventually the older gryffindors caught-on and would bribe lucan with chocolate frogs to stop him in his tracks

mc enjoys exposing sebastian to muggle trinkets and snacks, she grew up in a travelling circus with her parents, a ringmaster and fortune teller who never attended hogwarts in their youth (i'm gonna do a separate oc bio)

the trio all share a love of pumpkin pasties and lavender tea so whoever has a free period (or when sebastian has detention) will pop down to the kitchen to collect some

forehead kisses, hugs and interlocked arms whilst exploring the castle are everything to these two (their subtle little height difference is adorable, especially when you remember fem!mc is wearing wee wedged shoes at the start of the game)

highwing isn't his biggest fan (prefers ominis) and mc relishes in that

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #harry potter #my gif looks like ass #i forgot how to make them look good and im not used to getting clips from my ps5 #i'm gonna make a gif set with my second playthrough cause i missed screen recording a lot of their best scenes first time around

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elmhat · 4 months

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Dreblr Survey Results Pt.3 - Confessions.

So. The time has come. There was a section at the end of the survey where it simply said to "say something unhinged," and you really did! Here are some of the most entertaining ones.

Again, I'm pasting these directly from the form. If anyone thinks I wrote this stuff myself I think I'll go and sit under the sea for several hours.

⚠️ A lot of these are NSFW. I'm serious, please be responsible :)

People being really really funny

something unhinged

Something unhinged

Ur mom is unhinged

penis

Calls for violence against everyone who has ever wronged Dream

I want to blend (with a blender) c!q and c!sam and throw the substance to the wolves

Quackity should have died

I think Tommy should have stayed dead

Dream should have actually tortured tommy

Exile was hilarious. :)

Calls for… forgiveness?

they should've made up with c q in the finale streams

I forgive Q. We don't know what really happened behind the scenes.

Sam, both c! and cc!

Sam is Daddy and I know for a fact he reads AO3 fics that man is NOT normal

cc!sam closeted c!awesamdream shipper

I don't think anything I say can top Sam having a scrapbook of sexy criminals

you know how sam has a bunch of clones of himself to inhabit. alright now imagine him doing that with dream. this is how the awesamdream baby can still win.

c!Sam and c!Dream are fundamentally very different characters with very different wordviews but one of the few things they have in common is praise kink.

I don't think this counts as shipping but that's what I'm calling it

c!dnf gay sex post prison arc happy ending (REAL) (I SAW IT ON THE SCRIPT DOCUMENTS IN DREAM'S COMPUTER)

um um c!dnf in gay love idk they are the only ones for each other sorry

DNF kiss real

CDNF IS OVERHYPEDDDDDDDDDDDDDD I SAID IT AND I MEANT IT

If c!dreamnotnap had slept together i think dream would have stayed sane

i think s apnap fucks d ream with his small dick and they both love it and love each amen 🙏

i want to get c!sapnap pregnant

The most superior ship is Dream/Technoblade/Punz/DreamXD/Foolish/Kristin/Philza Because in this household we love big polycules

i think dream should've done more crime and fucked awesamdude

Dream and Sam fucked in that prison

C!DREAM IS A TRANS WOMAN AND AWESAMDREAM FUCKED NASTY IN THAT PRISON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dreblr's overwhelming preoccupation with c!Awesamdream is getting kinda worrying ngl

dream and quackity are what I seek in a relationship

c dreamity is my otp i love those unhinged bastards kissing eachother

Dreambur needs more love and I’m tired of it being pushed aside

is it even unhinged to assume that Dream fucked Fundy, Fundy's dad (Wilbur) and Fundy's Grandpa (Phil) I feel like that's just a regular sentimet on dreblr by now

dreamza prevails

Dnb best ship

Doomsday trio deserves to fuck nasty imho

He fucked that old man

c!Dream needs to get dicked down I think that would solve a lot of problems post nut clarity if you will

NSFW so don't feel like you need to put this in any compilation i completely understand BUT whenever the c!sam cuck chair crosses my dash, in my head it's traditional dynamic omegaverse c!dnb. c!sam's an alpha who wanted to show off to omega c!dream before claiming and mating with him for their mutual first time. he decides to do this by challenging alpha c!techno to a fight, but to his shock, lost. badly. he has to watch alpha c!techno mate with and claim c!dream right in front of him, because watching such a clearly superior alpha demonstrate his abilities causes c!dream to go into heat and c!techno is happy to help him with that. he's been looking for a mate anyway and c!dream just so happens to be his type. meanwhile, c!dream wants to give c!techno as many litters as his body can handle and barely remembers who that other guy in the room even is, even after his heat calms down.

Dream harems? I guess?

c!Dream has/should have a harem

Dream is a pretty boy and should have taken off his mask to start a harem to prevent war.

Things that I really don't think are that unhinged around here, given their competition

i was such a crazy c!dream apologist in 2021 i actually had a dream about it

I have a spreadsheet with every tag, character and relationship tag for every dsmp fanfciton I read and liked/found interesting.

I know people will say it is/was kinda cringy but I will never think that or regret being part of the fandom (that's not really unhinged I couldn't think of anything sorry lol)

I know its delulu beyond belief and i will never say this not anonymously but sometimes i fantasize about if i was able to be friends with dream team

Wilbur wasn't a hero or "good guy" at any point in his storyline.

Doomsday was 100% justified. (...is that unhinged enough or do I need to pick something else?)

People being too polite for this question

Sorry I am not THAT unhinged

no, but i thank you for the opportunity! I am sadly to hinged, normal even

And more!

George is the main character and we got robbed by not having him meet c!Dream again!! but in meta it is because they are together in real life and who needs their depression character anymore in that senario.

c!DTeam reconciliation arc was always intended

c!drunz are necrophiliacs.

Okay. Okay here me out here OK. So. Imagine Norman (bald guy) is c!schlatt and Pat (white haired dude) is c!Phil OK yw ENJOYYYYYYY : https://youtu.be/b7Bj1dBMYBE?si=Cz79CEISAg6EcMYS

Techno's age of 3 is actually canon and New L'Manberg comitted infanticed

C!Tubbo is the best faction leader. The bar isn't high but I think Technically he did well

c!foolish rights unlimited forever. he deserved blood sacrifices

Cc Sam and Dram were the most normal about the prison

I think quackity should have gotten to do more on screen cannibalism

If c!Quackity had taken hormones to balance his insane lust (Wilbur, Technoblade, Schlatt, etc) he would never have gone crazy send post

I think a Daedalus arc with Quackity instead would've been such a downhill for Dream's sanity. Send tweet.

in a server where we have a c!dream made of oreo cream au . quackity eats him in prison . there is fanart .

Please sir please sir please no more

✨️truama ✨️

all of dreblr contains more competency in media literacy than the rest of tumblr combined

i love how these characters hate each other, keep hurting each other, but tied to each other in a way they just can't shake off.

the only way for c!Dream to be properly Redeemed is to live out the worst thing he subjected another person to: *cue his tropical island paradise getaway arc, sunbathing on the beach with no one to bother him except for friends occasionally visiting* #trust

c!Dream was building an underwater stone temple to satan in order to pray for the apocalypse change my mind

C!Dream is very anthy himemiya coded

c!dream is a cow hybrid and has 4 beautiful tits

I feel like the only cc!dream enjoyer who's also a c!tommy enjoyer

C!dream eggs Monday is the flag of dreblr 🥚

Reminder that C!Dream is a stripper

Dream spoonfeeding post

i think dream should've been worse. as a treat. let him murder more minors please.

Prison feels like cc!Dream’s little whump arc. Also, prisontrio favorite grouping. The best angst and whump in town.

Whenever I write whump fanfics it feels like I’m sticking my blorbos in an empty pickle jar and shaking it like a kid holding a snowglobe for the first time

Todo es un invento del gobierno

Today's culinary special is teeth cake

i think we should all collectively gaslight people/edit the wiki to try and convince people omegaverse was canon to the DSMP. or make a fake second wiki.

*grabs you by the shoulders* ok so after wilbur died and fundy was alone and grieving he kept getting picked on for being an orphan by the rest of the server, for example puffy built an obsidian box around his house in new lmanburg and labelled it an orphanage. fundy was already dealing with the loss of his dad + the appearance of a ghost that was supposed to be his dad but didn't remember half of his life, and now he had to deal with this too. so he starts to mine it meanwhile jack manifold is trying to cheer him up, not helped by the fact that ghostbur keeps hanging around despite fundy not wanting him there. Jack tries to get fundy to look on the bright side, he says that the obsidian box around his house could function as protection from tnt, and so, to prove that's bullshit, fundy places a tnt beside the house he spent so long building and blows up a portion of it. Destroys his own work, a part of his home just to prove a point. It's a self destructive act of defiance. Ghostbur and jack both agree that was unnecessary and jack maintains it could protect the house from outside attacks. fundy continues to take the wall down. Ghostbur fixes the hole in fundy's house, but leaves evidence of the explosion. He puts a sight down saying "-CAUTION- Fallen debris". Now, I need you to know how insane I am over the fact that after doomsday, after the entirety of new Lmanburg was decimated, that sign was the only part of fundy's home that remained unbroken. A sign, surrounded by the rubble of a fallen nation, destruction as far as the eye can see, warning of fallen debris. A sign for a self destructive act of defiance. I am going to eat drywall about this

Okay, one more. People I'm hugging

i miss technoblade

I really want to be a part of dreblr but I feel like they're all cool kids and I'm the quiet weirdo kid hiding in the corner. It feels like if you weren't there for the Founding of the Great Dreblr, there's no way in now. Kinda like you can't get hired as a restaurant janitor as your first job if you haven't already owned the place for 5 years prior

I am in your walls

Thanks everyone for forcing my eyeballs to see this! Reading your responses was certainly an experience I'll be stuck with!

#long post #dreblr #random elm thoughts #elm polls

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