#but on the other hand i want some goddamn actual fucking details to work with

[strlingsav]

Hiiii Sav 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Could I request a Ghost x reader trope that's like... love based off forced proximity/ circumstances? Can be in their line of duty, fake marriage, but please get creative🫶🏼 and smut ofc!! Thank you for reading 😸

Hellooo! 🫶🏻

You most definitely can, enjoy!

Closer

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A months-long assignment has landed you in isolation with Ghost.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your usual assignments were done alone. A few weeks, hunkered down in an abandoned site, surviving on MREs, cigarettes, and any alcohol you could find. They were the closest to a vacation you'd ever have, save for the uniform, guns and ammunition.

More often than not, you saved yourself from the warfare and stuck to surveillance. It was your specialty, a skill you'd turned into a career and notably so. John Price himself had requested you for the specially important recon mission, hearing talk from your past contracts about your detailed work.

In the past, you'd not opened yourself up to be recruited to a task force in hopes that you could keep some semblance of a normal life. Once you submerged yourself in your work, that went out the window. So you agreed, flew out to the location, and were dropped on a farm bordering a nearby city, of which Captain Price wanted more information. The rest was classified.

Not long after your arrival, you'd watched an armoured truck pull up the long gravel driveway. The soldier that jumped out, Ghost- as you'd learned to call him, was also assigned to your post. At first, you'd been irritated with Price for neglecting this detail, but once you'd learned that he was quiet and kept to himself, you didn't mind.

And he kept true to that fist impression. The introduction was short, hardly sweet, lacking emotion in his eyes and any effort in his voice. He towered above you, his body like that of a goddamn bear, and it made you nervous to share a house with him.

To say you didn't sleep with your pistol loaded would've been a lie- especially the first few nights alone with him. Of course, he insisted he'd keep to the first floor of the farmhouse, but you didn't trust the worn locks to keep a man his size out.

He took the night watch, often reminding you he had never been able to sleep, and was usually still awake during the day. Occasionally, he'd sneak off and rest for a few minutes, where you'd find him with his legs up on the aged sofa, hand across his face, soft snores on every exhale. It nearly made you smile the first time you saw it.

Your days were filled with quiet. Hours spent with your eyes peering through a pair of binoculars, jotting quick notes in the margins of already-full pages. Dates, times, movement, people, places. All of it, recorded, while Ghost played defence on the balcony, and lent an extra set of eyes.

You grew to enjoy the quiet. The deliberate looks while you passed each other, the knowing glances when you'd settle by the fireplace and eat your ready-made meals together. It was a silent routine that you'd perfected within the last few months. You eventually found yourself leaving the doors unlocked, putting away your pistol while you slept.

You began to nearly read each others' minds. Smooth, seamless interactions that made everyday pass with ease. Ghost was beginning to grow on you- the calming presence he offered, the endearing, mindless conversations that took place behind a bottle of bourbon. He even had a sense of humour- fucked as it was.

He was always willing to talk, to endure your mindless chatting every once-in-a-while. You'd not had an assignment with anyone else in a long time, and though your social skills were somewhat lacking, you could see Ghost becoming more comfortable. He enjoyed himself, actually.

"Price never told me, is this your first surveillance assignment?" You asked, setting the bourbon down on the table between you.

He shook his head, the skull staring back at you becoming a bit blurry under the influence. "Been other places before. Mostly infiltration, extraction, target searches, but not my first."

You sat back in your seat, your pyjama bottoms a laughable contrast to Ghost, who still sat in his uniform. You didn't think you'd seen him change, or whether he even owned civilian clothing.

You weren't usually so lax- didn't usually let your guard down after only a few months, but Ghost seemed to lure you in. You hoped it wouldn't prove to be a mistake.

"I do this a lot. Mostly alone," You replied, watching him intently as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a swig.

"Guess my bein' here throws you off, then." He swallowed.

"Not at all," You shook your head, your eyes watching him closely. "It's been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not as lonely as I usually am."

His gaze softened, acknowledging your compliment with a short nod. In truth, he'd grown fond of you too. Your little quirks, your sense of humour, even the way in which you organized yourself and your things day-to-day. Your appearance was just a perk. You hadn't caught him watching you, yet- he was sure you'd go back to locking your door if you had.

His watching wasn't entirely innocent, either. He'd catch glimpses of your thighs, your stomach; even your neck drove him mad. Shamefully, he'd finished to fabricated images of kneeling between those pyjama-clad thighs, watching your face contort with pleasure. Your gentle eyes and painfully inviting lips were always teasing him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, lived with a woman. Regardless of whether it was an assignment, he began to feel comfortable in the abandoned house- like it was home. And as long as you were around, he found himself entirely distracted by you- whether it be your conversation or your face. So, your allusion to finding his company pleasant made his stomach flip.

"Still lonely though?" He inquired, his thighs spreading as he made himself comfortable on the rickety chair.

"You know how it is, I'm sure," You shrugged.

He did know. Fuck, did he ever know. But he wanted to hear you say it- hear you admit how lonely you are, how badly you missed being touched, kissed, fucked. It would make his intentions much less complicated.

"Not sure I do," He shook his head.

Your lips split into a grin- he was baiting you. You decided to give in, to see where it could lead.

"There are certain parts of you that'll always be lonely. Especially in our line of work." Your eyebrows raised.

His eyes pored into yours, watching you from beneath the yellowed kitchen light. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, before he took another shot of bourbon. You rubbed your lips together- were you making more of his charcoal eyes staring you down, or was he imagining relieving some of the loneliness you so boldly talked about?

Your confidence had ultimately been increased with your drinking, and especially as his body language welcomed you in. Open arms, thighs spread, chest out.

"Doesn't always have to be that way," He said in return- optimism; unexpected but appreciated. His hips shifted again, sitting up straight as he subconsciously leaned in closer to you. "'M sure you've got options." Right there in front of you.

Was it an offer, or simply polite reassurance?

"Not as many as you'd think. And none as tempting as the one I shouldn't even be considering." You said, your eyes slowly lifting to his.

"What's stoppin' you?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your response.

"Rules," You smiled softly.

You wondered if he had any idea you were referring to himself- surely he wasn't that oblivious. He had moved himself closer to you, watched your lips and tongue as you spoke- he was intrigued.

"Fuck the rules," He shrugged.

A deep breath in allowed you the momentary rush to stand to your feet and step toward him. You were close enough to cautiously lower yourself onto his lap, moving slowly until you were sure he was interested. His large hands flew to your waist as you planted yourself firmly. His expression- the little of which you could see, at least- remained unchanged. He wasn't oblivious.

His hands slid down your sides, gently caressing your hips before rounding your body and landing on your ass. He sighed quietly, almost unnoticeably- but his chest expanded and his grip tightened. A rough squeeze of your ass made you smile.

"Fuck the rules, then," You sighed, watching him grin.

He lifted a hand to your neck, long fingers tangling themselves in your hair, pulling your face closer to his so he could press his lips to yours. His mouth was warm and pleasant- just enough moisture on his lips to be soft to the touch. Your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, slowly inching closer as your kiss began to deepen.

His tongue slid against yours, forcing his way between your teeth and finding the soft, welcoming muscle of your tongue. He groaned, air exhaled from his nose fanning your cheeks. You returned the exhale, desperately sucking in air as his paw-like hands grabbed at your ass.

You couldn't help but grind forward, flinching subtly when his hands would palm your ass, or he'd so easily mould you against his body. His fingers were splayed out across your skin, calloused palms scratching the exposed flesh of your backside and thighs; his breaths became quicker with every slide of your hips over his groin.

You took note of what he seemed to enjoy- he was a bit rough, handled you with hint of carelessness and desperation, but you didn't mind. He was caught up in how your breasts felt against his chest, and how the curves of your body were so easy to glide his hands over.

Your fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts. Ghost hardly blinked, his gaze falling to the supple flesh of your chest, nipples hardening with the impact of cool air.

"Christ," He mumbled to himself, especially hoarse and deep.

"Can I?" You asked softly, your hands reaching his shirt.

With a short nod, you lifted it over his head, revealing the physique of a hardened soldier- muscular, lean, bulky. Scars and burns acquired during his deployments flexed and rippled with his movements, his biceps popping up as he reached your hips with even greedier hands.

You'd stood to slide your shorts down your thighs, watching him lean forward to watch closely, to see every bit of you as best as possible. His eyes tracked from your breasts to your hips, eyeing the panties you wore, a single finger reaching out to hook beneath the fabric and tug it down.

In one fell swoop, his fingers slipped your panties off your hips. Before you could straddle him again, he stood to his feet, a hand wrapping around your waist and slowly turning you to his chest.

Goosebumps arose from your skin, his breath fanning the back of your neck, large hands holding you to his chest as his fingers crept toward your pussy.

"Been a long time?" He asked quietly, the rumble of his voice moving through his chest to your back. You shivered.

"Yeah," You nodded absently, arching your back, widening your stance when his finger reached between your folds. "A few years," You breathed, your head turning to find his eyes.

He leaned closer, his lips beside your ear as he simultaneously found your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make your knees weaken.

"Stuck to doin' it yourself, yeah?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat, nodding slowly again, against his chest.

"Yes," You gulped.

"It ain't the same, is it?" He asked rhetorically, watching your nostrils flare, your tongue wet your lips as you writhed against him. "Don't get as wet when it's your own fingers?"

You shook your head.

"You're fuckin' wet now, sweetheart," He said, gruff and satisfied. "And I ain't hardly done anythin' yet."

You accepted his deduction, knowing he was right; it had been a long time, and it wasn't the same with your own fingers. Regardless, his warm body pressing against yours, his arms pinning you to him, his hard cock against your ass- he'd already done more than he even knew.

You whimpered quietly, dropping a few inches as he applied more pressure to your clit, working in circles while his lips clung to your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him more access, and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You breathed out, collapsing against his hold, letting him have his way with your pussy. You tried to hold out, to keep yourself composed, but the long, thick fingers rubbing short circles over your clit were going to cut your willpower short. His hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, encouraging you to grind your ass over his cock.

You did- slow movements as you simultaneously ground your hips against his fingers. His breathing had picked up in your ear, harsh exhales as he held your body in his hands. You felt his breaths fan your neck, goosebumps appearing over your skin.

His consistent pace and gentle pressure made it easy to lose every other thought and focus solely on how his actions felt. Not longer after, he'd slid finger inside you, his breath hitching subtly at the feel of your insides. Warm, silky- enveloping him like a well-cushioned bed.

"Fuck, you feel good," He cursed. "You close?" He asked, feeling your thighs tremble.

You could only nod, focusing on the rough actions of his thumb, rubbing over your clit, and his fingers curling gently inside you. Your lips parted in an effort to suck in a breath, eyes shut, savouring the build-up and moments between where utter pleasure only began to spark. It didn't take much longer, your hands holding into his arms for stability as you came over his hand.

He slowly slid his fingers from you, satisfied with the trembling, weakened mess he'd made you into. His hands gently guided you against the table, pressing your chest against the cold wood.

You exhaled sharply, feeling his palm brush down your neck, then your back, before rounding your ass and leaving a gentle smack against your plush cheek.

You twitched, unsuspecting of Ghost kneeling behind you, parting your pussy to watch the liquid arousal seep out of you. You were still convulsing, when his tongue slid against you, his lips slurping against you.

A deep grumble of appreciation left his lips, vibrating through you. Your voice was hoarse, a moan squeezed out of your lungs that bounced off the table and rang loud in your ears.

"Y'alright?" He asked, accompanied by the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone.

You nodded, contorting your body to watch as his jeans dropped past his hips and his cock fell from his briefs. Your eyes widened when you felt him against you- he was bigger than anticipated, and you feared the consequences of being abstinent for so many years.

Surprisingly, as he slid in, your natural lubricant allowed him to enter you with ease. The stretch still stung, a quick sensation that made your body shudder. Your hands reached out before you, gripping the table as he filled you, his hips meeting your ass.

"Sorry, love," He muttered, "So goddamn tight."

"Keep going," You whispered, your body moving to watch him again as he thrusted the first few times.

His hands slid up your back, before settling on the curve of your waist. The leverage allowed him to get a better stance, and he bent down to meet your eye-line while his cock slowly penetrated you.

His other hand moved to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb on your jugular, eyes raking over your body but especially the view of his cock sliding in and out. It didn't last long, not when he reached beneath you to flick his fingers across your clit.

You sucked in a breath, letting out a short cry at the overstimulation.

"Was thinkin' about you, like this," He grunted. "Cunt spread open on my cock, that pretty face when you take it."

He was hoarse too, out of breath as his cock slipped in and out, his fingers still working at massaging your clit.

"Take it whenever you want," You pushed out, taking in a deep breath. "Just don't stop."

"Don't say that," He groaned. "Fuck- don't say that."

"I mean it-" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears, landing your cheek against the table. "'S yours," You whispered again. "All yours."

His hips stuttered, pulling his cock out of you before you felt warm liquid land on your back. You shivered again, feeling empty and exposed as he backed away.

He grabbed the nearest cloth, wiping it swiftly over your backside before you spun around to face him.

He arranged himself, doing his belt back up and adjusting the mask over the bridge of his nose.

"Get up," He said, gesturing for you to sit on the table, one hand around your waist.

"I meant it," Your eyes drifted up and down his body, your hand on his chest preventing him from lifting you. "Now that we have, we may as well take advantage."

Ghost stood quiet for a moment, as if thinking over your deal. He nodded, subtly at first, so subtle you hadn't even noticed, but then he agreed.

"Alright. Now- get on the table, 'n' spread those legs. Been wantin' t'taste you."

#cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #strlingsavwrites

[love-toxin]

If you have any more thoughts on this bully!Eddie and bully!Steve dynamic you'd like to share...Cause this had me fucking feral. Older or younger, their partnership has to be deadly.

Constantly in silent competition with each other to see who makes reader cry the hardest, the manipulation tactics, bro. I just want them both to be really mean and possessive over me, you know?

heh. heheheheheh.....HEH!!! i made this a little sweeter cuz im weak

let them eat cake

(cws: older!bully!steddie, f!waitress!angelface, age gap (20s-late 30s/40s), innocence/corruption kink, a singular knife, they're possessive in their own way, crying, sexual harrassment (not them), shitty diner etiquette, steve has sugar daddy tendencies, a little angst with a fluffy ending.)

The possessiveness is what really gets them. Steve and Eddie love seeing you cry, love making you wet while you work, love talking down to you when you can't talk back and you wouldn't anyways cause you're just so pretty and dumb and sweet, too shy and too nice to have an attitude and they can tell after a while that it's cause you like the attention. Or maybe you have a thing for degradation and you aren't even aware of it, who knows?

But there are times when your teary-eyed face isn't satisfying, when your trembling shoulders as you approach their table don't make Steve's leg bounce and Eddie's grin twitch up. When you hurriedly try to wipe your face dry before you come up to them, your voice crackly and soft as you whimper out a "wh-what can I get for you today?" with your pen poised over your notepad that won't stop shaking. Those are the times that they aren't the culprits for your misery, and they wanna know who the fuck has been pushing around their dumb little princess.

Yeah, your job at the diner is shitty, and the hag at the front counter likes to bark at you pretty often as the only other waitress--but that's not enough to make you this way. They survey the rest of the diner until their eyes land on another table a ways away, and see the group of happy-go-lucky college boys that are so loud and rowdy that their voices are already giving Steve a headache. And after you bring the older gentlemen their waters and sweet tea (that you make yourself and they always insist on having a taste of even though it's the same recipe every time) they watch you get more and more anxious as you pass those dickheads by, the group of them high off a game win or something because they wolf whistle in your direction every time you get close enough. It's rage-inducing for the two of them, watching those shitty fucking brats make comments and flirt with you and even mock groping you, causing you to flinch away and spill one of their drinks that they laugh about as they insist you clean it up. And the grins on their faces when they lean over to watch you bend down to pick up the cup, hoping to get a glimpse of your ass in the skirt you're wearing today--oh, they both just want to throttle them, but Steve especially so. He may be fucking crusty as he nears his forties, but he's a lot bigger and a lot stronger than those jerks half his age.

The two of them just sit there and marinate in their own fury for awhile, but just when Steve's moving to get up out of his seat because he cannot fucking take another second of this bullshit, and he's mumbling that he's gonna teach those dickheads some goddamn respect--you've got your hand on his arm and you're holding him, clutching at the sleeve of his sweater with panic in your eyes.

"P-Please, Mr. Harrington, don't get in trouble," You whimper, trying not to let the feeling of his thick, firm biceps under your palms distract you. "I can deal with it, I promise. I-I'll make them quiet down, so you don't get a headache."

Oh, you don't even realize. The unexpected sweetness of you remembering such an insignificant detail about him actually makes Steve's heart jump, feels like it's the first time in ages since it's done that. It's baffling to each of them that you're more concerned about them, though--and there's that crack of mercy that forms then, that's slowly gonna get wider and wider as the two of them realize they don't just wanna tease you, they want you.

When you walk away, for once, Steve just stares down at his glass as he sips from it. Wondering how much money you would take from him to quit this shitty job today. Meanwhile, Eddie's worked up a glare to cast at the college kids that they definitely notice this time, their obnoxious laughter turned to head shifting and whispering as they wonder why that freak is staring so hard. The more he does it, the more unnerved they get, so he doesn't look away even when they make eye contact to try and ward him off. It would be a contest, if Eddie didn't produce a little pocket knife from his jacket, and start flipping it around without breaking his stare and without slicing a single cut into his fingers. And that seems to be enough for them to get over themselves and turn away to snap their fingers at you for the check, before filing out of the diner as a group and keeping up that threatened hush over them until they get outside. Then they're boisterous again, laughing and making ill-intentioned jokes about that weirdo perv as they get into their cars, because Eddie knows they're fucking scared of him. They wouldn't be so loudly claiming they weren't if that was really the truth.

Finally, when peace falls over the diner again, they watch you clear the plates and then scurry over to collect the check, and grimace when your shoulders visibly fall, the measly few pennies left over for your tip barely weighing down your hand. Yet you still count them in your palm, picking out a few bits of pocket lint from the pile because it was obviously thrown in half-assedly. Fucking pricks. Only a seriously sadistic group of assholes wouldn't tip their goddamn waitress.

"Honey, come here." You perk up at Steve's voice--how cute--and hurry towards their table, slipping the chump change into your apron pocket on the way. You nearly trip trying to get there in short time, but you stand up straight and smooth out your skirt once you're there, perched nearly on the balls of your feet as you wait for their command. "Closer."

As if on autopilot, your body moves to shuffle towards Steve's side of the booth, and you lean over so your face is closer even though you look more than a little nervous. Worried he's gonna do something bad? Gonna take advantage of you when you're already beat down?

"This is for you." The thick thumbful of cash he had ready gets pushed into your hand--he was gonna stuff it down your top for a laugh, but for some reason it makes its way right into your palm. He closes your hands over it so you won't see how much it is, but you can feel how much paper is unfurling even as it's tucked tightly inside your fist. Your little doe eyes widen, and you shake your head, your first reaction to try and give it back. Whether you don't think you deserve it, or you were raised to be polite and humble, either way it's too fucking sweet for him to resist, and he forces your hand to squeeze it tighter. "Don't get an ego. But, I'm....I'm proud of you."

"Are....are you kidding, Mr. Harrington?"

Oh, for fuck's sakes. Eddie's expression shifts like lightning into shock and concern, seeing you tremble and tear up at those simple words, and hearing your disbelief so strong in your shaky voice that you think it's just a joke.

"Christ, I-"

"One sec!" You suddenly dart away, the cash still clutched in your hand as you skid around the other tables in your way and run into the kitchen, the two of them hearing one of the cooks in the back reprimand you for rushing around, you're gonna slip! Thankfully, they don't hear those telltale crashes of dishware breaking or cutlery clattering to the floor, but the two of them are left wondering and looking at each other until you patter right back out with two plates in hand. They don't even notice what it is because they're too wrapped up in how big your smile is, cheeks still wet cause you didn't have a second to dry them, until you set down both plates in front of each of them and produce two forks.

It's a thick slice of cake for both men, Steve'a a vanilla flavour with lots of fresh strawberries piled on and drizzled around it, while Eddie has a hefty chunk of double-chocolate cake with enough frosting to give him diabetes. Both have a few sprinkles scattered messily around the smudged frosting and whipped cream, and the cake is moist if a little crumbly, but it so screams you that they're left looking back at you in awe.

"Dessert's on the house. I, um...I made it. Both of them. Gladys let me do the new desserts."

You fidget with your fingers anxiously as they each take their first bites, overwhelmed with fruit and sugar and cholesterol. It's so fucking great. Steve at least has some decorum as he swipes up the whipped topping and hums at realizing it's homemade, but you almost seem more eager to hear Eddie's almost piggish grunting as he stuffs his mouth full of cake, his lower lip smeared with chocolate that he's quick to wipe off with his thumb and suck clean. Only once they're eating do you think to rub your face dry, swiftly using the back of your hands to smooth out the streaks before your smile grows brighter.

"...Good?"

"Incredible," Eddie moans, and you try to hide your giggling. Steve wishes you wouldn't, he hasn't realized he's been staring until you turn to look at him, and he shoves another bite past his lips to cover it up. "You need to come cook at my place. Forget Harrington, he's got girls lining up to feed him."

"Shut up." He finally meets your eyes, the scowl nowhere near reaching his eyes as they run over your sweet, smiling face. "He's an idiot. Come use my kitchen anytime you want." It's not really until those sober thoughts hit your ears that Steve really realizes that he said them so bluntly, and in a bid to brush it off, he demands you bring them both a coffee to go with their cake.

"Mhm!" You hum, his stern tone not even making you flinch as you practically skip off to the kitchen to make them their drinks, your skirt flouncing up just enough that they can get a peek underneath if they dip their heads. They're a little too involved in their desserts to catch it, though, and Steve has a faraway look in his eyes as he picks a lone sprinkle off and eats it that has Eddie smirking.

"....Steeeevie-"

"I said shut up."

He mutters back, his voice soft and barely there like the words are just flimsy things to form it. The smile that turns up his lips as he stares at his plate can't be mistaken, though, the tines of his fork dragging little lines in the icing as he thinks about how happy you looked just now.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #bully!eddie munson #bully!steve harrington #steddie x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

[brighttears]

Battery

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

No physical description

Summary: You met Tess in the Boston QZ because you have a battery for her car. She introduces you to her sidekick Joel, the handsome, hardass who looks like he wants to kill you. You’re leaving Boston with them in the morning. 

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: deals in Boston with unfriendly characters, drinking, Joel takes sleeping pills

A/n: Wrote this is one sitting with very minimal editing heehee. Obviously screaming for more parts but I just decided to put this out and see what happens with it

—

You sit on a rusty metal folding chair in the musty basement you’ve come to know well, sitting next from your new friends Tess—the person you’ve come here to sort of compromise with, someone who promises a car to give a home to the battery you’ve come here to score in the first place. You met her at work, rolling paint over Firefly logos. You don’t usually chit–chat with your ‘coworkers’, and Tess said the same thing to you when you started talking, but you did, and it was maybe the most pleasant experience you’ve had in your year in the Boston QZ. Somehow, you clicked, and now, you guess you could say you’re something like friends. You even laughed once. More importantly, you both decided you could put a little trust into each other. The paramount detail, however, is that she’s looking for a car battery, and you know someone who has one, and you were going to speak with him the next day anyway. Finally, you both might have a way out of this hellhole. 

She did tell you that her other friend, Joel, is “kind of a piece of work, a real hard head who will look like he wants to kill you”, but goddamn did she mean that. He’s currently glaring at you from across the table, trying to size you up, looking like he’s trying to make you explode with his mind despite the fact that you’re here to do him a huge fucking favor. Next to him is your dealer, a poorly built man who can handle a lot more than he looks like he can, and a man who has plenty of people to back him up for what he can’t. He’s the King Rat, dirty and only seen in basements, but a kingpin just the same. He has a couple of his men around the room with him now, standing by the door with their hands clasped like ex-marines, doing their job at creating an atmosphere of static danger, telling you that he is the person that decides when and if you leave this room. However, your fear is on the backburner. You have become somewhat of a regular in King Rat’s basement—his actual name, the one you address him as, being Wojciech—for deals, trades more like it, but all of it being a forerunner for this right meeting right now. 

“Now, you know I like you,” he says to you, lazily raising a finger with something like a smile, “but I do not know either of you.” He waves his finger at Joel and Tess.

“I like them,” you tell him, a white lie, “that’s why I brought them here. I thought you’d want to know the whole deal here.”

“And we would both like to be here to see that the goods are real.” Tess says, face stoney. 

The static in the air picks up, though no one moves. 

Wojciech grows a slow grin, looking her right in the eyes. You watch them, trying to determine if this is about to get nasty, trying to read what you might be able to do to calm it down. He is a person to learn. Tess, apparently, is someone who doesn’t really give a fuck. Some may think she’s stupid to be so curt, but you can tell that she can hold the fuck her own. Plus, Joel looks like he could rip someone's throat out with ease. Still, you tense. 

“Aah,” he drawls, “smart woman. I can understand that. Yes, very smart. Well,” he flicks his hand out to a man behind him who then produces the battery onto the table, “it is very real. And it can be all yours,” he looks at you now, still grinning, “at the agreed price.” You then unload from your bag onto the table a fat stack of ration cards, a metal box full of various kinds of bullets, and a large plastic bag full to the brim of fat white pills. 

Wojciech’s eyes widen and he licks his lips as if you’ve just placed a freshly cooked Thanksgiving style turkey on the table.

“Good girl,” he says, still drooling over the payment, “what a sight, what a sight. You are a good girl, you know,” he looks up at you, his hands absentmindedly flexing. You try to smile, although his words make you want to gag. He is a person to learn, and also a person to swallow your bile for. This is just how he talks, and he’s never actually tried to lay a hand on you, so you can put up with it. Besides, once this deal is done, you'll never have to see him again. Just as his mouth is probably salivating for what's on the table right now, so is yours. You force yourself to keep Wojciech’s gaze instead of staring at the car battery. 

Still, though, you can see Joel’s eyes on you, still looking at you like you don’t belong here, like he hates you. So far, you really don’t like him, but it’s not him you care about, it’s the car he has. 

“You know, I will miss you, you and your sneaky ways. I don’t know how you did this, but I will never ask, because I don’t care as long as you get it onto my table.” He laughs heartily, leaning back in his chair with his hands still flexing, the sounds ending in squeaks, as they always do, which has added to the sticking nickname of Rat King. 

You got this stuff by saving, scraping, working a lot, and, yes, some stealing, along with making ‘friends’ with some guards who will never get the chance to get in your pants, though flirting was your main method of essentially manipulating them. It was hard work, never honest, but worth it. And now, finally, it is about to pay off.

“Well, seems we’re done here now, right?” Tess says.

Wojciech’s eyes roll to hers, relaxing back in his chair, still with his somewhat disquieting half grin. 

“Down to business. I like that. I like you, too, miss missy. Too bad you’ll be taking this battery and then be far gone right?”

Tess says nothing, which is smart.

Rat King finally gives in, “Aah”ing as he slides the battery across the table while one of his men bags up the other items on the table. 

You take the battery in your hands, sliding it over to yourself, then standing to set your now empty bag on the table next to it. It barely fits, but it does. 

Everyone else raises to their feet as you do, concluding the meeting. Wojciech is grinning at you again, wide, thin, full of small teeth, his eyes squinting with it. 

“Once again, very nice doing business with you,” you say to him, reaching out your hand for him to shake and hoping the grimace doesn’t show in your smile. 

“Yes, yes, as always, I really will miss you, you know.” He tells you as he shakes your hand, sweaty and tight. 

You say nothing. You try to say as little as you can with him, just be polite as possible; get in, get out. 

He lets go of your hand and then nods, signaling permission for your departure. You lead Tess and Joel out, all filing up the narrow staircase back into the sunlight. The bag hurts your shoulders, but you need to hide the weight, make it look like nothing important as you walk down the streets. 

“Alright, golden girl,” Tess says to you, now in stride next to you with Joel on the other side of her, “smartest way to do this is you stay with us tonight, and then you leave with us in the morning. Sound good to you?”

You nod, “Sounds good to me.”

“You got any shit to pick up at your place or are you good?”

“I’ve got everything I own on me.”

“Really?” She screws her face up with her question.

“Yup. Clothes, two loaded guns, and two knives.”

“No food?”

“Nope. Sorry I have nothing to offer on that front, but, that’s part of how we got this big thing on my back.” You pull the strap of your bag more securely on your shoulder.

“So, what,” Joel grumbles, “we just s’spossed to supply that for you?” He asks, mostly rhetorically. Really, he’s saying fuck you, who do you think you are?

Before you can snap anything back, Tess says, giving him a warning look, “Well, I think it’s a pretty fair fucking trade, seeing as she is the reason that we’re finally getting the fuck out of here.”

Joel stares at her for a moment, glowering, then looks back down the road, grumbling under his breath. 

Tess switches her gaze to you, “We’ve got shit saved up, don’t worry about it.” You nod, grateful. 

The rest of the walk is silent, all the way up to their apartment. Once at the door, Tess tells you, “Stay out here for a second, we gotta talk.” You nod, and she closes the door. You stay still, listening in on their private conversation. 

“I don’t like this.” Comes Joel’s muffled voice, “I do not want to add another person into our lives.”

“Well, this is how it’s gonna go. She has a battery, we don’t. We need her. She’s solid.”

“And how do you know that? You just met ‘er.” Joel snaps back. 

“Because I know, Joel. Look, do you trust me? Good. So, trust me. I understand you’re worried, I know you think this will complicate things, but we need her, and I trust her, ok?”

“It’s stupid to trust someone you barely know. I don’t like ‘er, I don’t like that prick Wojciech, I don’t like any of this. We can find another battery, alone.”

“No, we can’t. Who knows how long that will take? We have one right in front of us. This is our chance, Joel. To get out of here. Go find Tommy.”

There’s a pause, a shuffle of feet, and then Tess’s voice again, barely audible, “There’s just something about this chic. Okay? I like her. I really think she’s worth keeping around.” 

Joel says nothing. 

“Alright?”

He says nothing again. 

“Good. Now, be nice.”

You smile. You’re starting to really like Tess; the unspoken command she has over his angry bear of a man, this authority she holds over seemingly the air itself, instantly knocks up your respect for her. Thank god you like at least one of the people you’re about to travel with, to wherever they’re going. 

She opens the door then with a slight, polite smile, “Come on in. Get that thing off your shoulders. I’m sure they’re bruised by now.” As you enter, she adds, kind of offhandedly, “We need to talk.”

You offer a matching smile back, walking in and finding the table to set down your heavy bag before joining her on the couch. Joel sits in a chair in the corner, still looking annoyingly murderous. You stare right back, blankly, challenging him. He scares you just as much as half of the people in Boston, so it doesn’t really hit like it used to. He’s not gonna hurt you, he just wants you to feel like he will. You almost sigh, tired of shit like this. 

He looks pissed as fuck, but, eventually, he looks to the ground, submitting to Tess’s request of ‘being nice’.

Joel is almost like a puppy, well, more like a dog, a guard dog, who sits in the corner, watching and glaring as much as a dog can, who eventually huffs, defeated, and plods over to lay at your feet. He reminds you of an old, tired, Saint Bernard. Tess is unquestionably his owner, known this dog for years, able to command him with one word or even just her eyes. 

“Look,” Tess interrupts your musing, her eyes demanding your attention, sitting next to you with her hands clasped over spread knees. “Him and I, we are not good people. We are here to get what we want, and go.”

Something about Tess makes you think that she may have been a mother at some point. You like it.

She continues, “I think we can help each other out. You wanna get outta here, too, right?”

You nod, “As soon as possible.”

She half chuckles, “Well, we’re on the same page, then. Joel here has a brother somewhere out in—”

“Tess,” Joel suddenly hisses, not even looking at you when he addresses you, “she does not need to know that.”

Tess barely gives him a look before she looks back to you, continuing on, “Somewhere out in Wyoming.”

“She did not need to know that.” Joel repeats, firmer. 

Tess turns to him then, pausing. “Look. We all have the same goal, now. Get the fuck out of Boston. And that’s where we’re headed, and she’s coming along, so, yes, she does need to know that. It’s as much her business as it is ours.”

“Who the fuck says she’s comin’ along? We’re gettin’ her out of Boston, an’ that’s it.”

Deciding you have a right to say something on the matter, you interject, “I want to get as far away from Boston as I can. I’ll go as far as you can take me. And for what it’s worth, I’m not gonna rob you, I’m not gonna kill you, I just want—”

“That’s worth nothin’.” Joel snaps, glaring at you again. 

You huff, glaring back. “I get it. I’m a stranger. So are you. But I’m coming with you, because it’s my fucking battery. I busted my ass getting that thing. And if we’re getting this car, we’re gonna be stuck in close quarters for a while, so you might as well get used to me, and I might as well get used to you. We’re helping each other out here, ok? I’m not just cargo. I am a fucking asset. That should be apparent enough now. That Wojciech guy is not easy to fucking work with, you’re lucky you got to be in the room to begin with. Because I got him to trust me. Cause I can get my hands on things others cannot. I know shit. I know how to talk to people. And I have shit out there. I know what to do, where to go. I’ve only been in Boston for a year. I was out there for years. I have shit stashed, and I know where it is. And I can show you. And we can share it. I’m not a child, I’m not useless, and I’m not stupid. So be nice, ok?”

Joel just stares back, glowering, grinding his teeth.

“What is this,” Tess speaks up, “a staring contest? Look, we don’t have time for this. We’re leaving in the morning, and she’s right, you need to get used to each other. I don’t have the patience to deal with this shit, ok?”

You’re not exactly sure who she’s addressing while you’re still steady with Joel’s gaze. If this is a staring contest, you are way too stubborn to lose, especially after how he’s been treating you. 

After a moment, Joel finally submits, casting his eyes to the floor before he gets up and goes to the kitchen where he digs a large, thick glass bottle out from the top shelf of a cabinet, a quarter of the way full with golden, what you assume to be, liquor. He doggedly retrieves two, then three, cups. He holds all three in one hand, a finger in each, with the bottle in his other hand. He comes to the table before the couch, moving slow, resistantly, like he’s trying to rub it in how much he does not want to be setting the glasses down to pour one for Tess, but then also one for you. He keeps his gaze down as he does and then pours his own glass, not even bothering to set the bottle down so that he can immediately pour himself another after downing the first. You watch as he pulls a bag out of his pocket and takes two big, fat, white pills—the same kind you just passed hundreds of over to Wojciech—to swallow down with his alcohol. He pauses, turns, and tosses the bag to you. You catch it, look at it in your palm, and then set it on the table. 

Joel glances over at it, “T’s not laced.” There’s taut irritation in his voice, “I jus’ took one.” You dumbass is easily heard, though he doesn’t say it, instead taking a sip and trying to hide the grimace it gives him. 

“I don’t want one.” You tell him, “I prefer less sleep. ‘Few hours keep me sharp.” You don’t take your eyes off of him, though he only keeps you in his peripheral. 

The alcohol is harsh on your tongue, a mixture of every type of alcohol to exist, probably, and not watered down like you’re used to. You polish the glass off in one gulp, unintentionally slamming the glass back down on the table with a wince. Tess chuckles and gulps hers down as well. 

She sets her glass down almost as hard as you had, then says to you, “Alright, you get the couch. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, she gets up and goes into the next room over. 

Joel stays standing, glass and bottle still in hand, not looking at you. He pours himself another one, then plods closer to pour you another as well. He abandons the bottle on the table then and sits in the chair in the corner in a way that ages him. The setting sun crosses orange over his chest and lights up his face; he’s rough, and handsome. More handsome than you want him to be. 

His flits his eyes around, considering, then submitting again with a sigh. 

“So, you said you got stuff stashed around?” He says, finally looking at you. 

You nod as you sip, trying to mute a grimace. 

“Where?”

“Few miles from here. Pretty much a straight shot from the gates. Then some more a few miles further.”

“You know how to get us there?”

“Yes.” You answer, annoyed. 

He sighs, then grimaces with his sip. He pauses again, looking absentmindedly at the seat next to you on the couch, then speaks again, “So you said you only been here a year?” You nod. “Why’d you come?” 

“For a break.” 

“A break,” he nearly chuckles.

“I know, not much of one. That’s why I’m ready to leave.”

“You got a destination in mind?”

“No.” 

“Good.”

There's a pause. You want to know more about him, the reasoning you assign to being for the safety of your own travels. 

“So, brother?” You inquire. 

Joel takes a slow sip, answering with a grimace probably both from the taste and the decision to answer, “Yes.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Joel considers the walls before he answers, “We had a disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Morals. You gonna finish that?”

You keep eye contact as you down the dregs of your drink. He keeps the gaze as well, examining you as he licks his teeth behind his lips. He sighs, then looks through the window. 

“You gonna watch me as I sleep?” You quip. He turns back to you, eyes looking you over again. 

“No.” With that, he gets up, walks to the table to set his glass down, and leaves into the next room over. 

When he’s gone, you sigh. What an introduction. Tess seems solid, but Joel is fucking exhausting. You hope to god he lets up on his go fuck yourself air about him soon enough, but you can’t tell if that’s a possibility. You have to admit, it’s a bit winsome, and definitely intriguing. He’s a nut you’d love to crack, and if things do work out, you should have plenty of time. 

You lay back on the couch and close your eyes. You feel almost like a kid on Christmas Eve, so much so that you consider the bag of sleeping pills on the table, but you’ve never touched them and you don’t plan on starting now. That would be stupid. Maybe by now, however long he’s been here, Joel is used to going to sleep in a bed and being sure he’ll be fine until he wakes up in the morning, but you are not. It is an idea that’s nice to have in your head, allowing you maybe a few hours more sleep than you used to get, but that all ends tomorrow. You’re not upset about that, though; sometimes, it feels like out there is your natural habitat. You have no qualms with leaving these walls. So, you try your best to welcome sleep, to get the next few hours over with so you can start the next chapter.

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us x f!reader #the last of us x female readrer #the last of us angst #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou series #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel milller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel miller angst #tess servopoulos

[prince-liest]

Your last 666 series installment is the best thing that happened to me. Its full of gore, somehow fluffy and wait-.. do I finally see some FRICKING COMUNICATION between the two idiots!?!?!

Ngl, Vox's 'Alastor not being able to love' statement hurt my soul. Your writing is brilliant and and let's just see what ending ya wro-..O MA LORD IS THAT VAL'S LOVE POTION!?!?!?!?

Now I need to know what's next!!!! And VOX I SWEAR IF U USE THIS SITUATION IN ANY WAY IM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE.

This series is a blast♡ love it!♡ makes me weirdly passionate and excited hah!

Some communication, and some communication failure, hahaha. They're going to be talking a lot more in the next one, actually, because I meant to write some NSFW and they had to go and attempt a healthy conversation instead. What can you do.

Thank you so much, I'm delighted that you're enjoying! :D

And: Way more anon asks about the latest 666 getting answered under the cut! <3 I combined a bunch from the last couple of days.

prince, I'm going insane over the latest fic. so we know from Alastor's inner monologue that he knows the roofie was an accident, but considering the super stressful situation, the fact that Vox was the one to ask for a kiss and the fact that Alastor accused him of wanting instead of loving him not a few minutes ago…. makes me wonder if Vox might not be at least a little worred that Alastor might think it was on purpose <3 gonna be rotating this in my head for the foreseeable future - ✨

I am so glad that these things are on y'all's minds, hahaha. Because you can bet they are on mine. >:D And THANK YOU, very pleased to be dragging everyone down into insanity with me.

“Should I stitch together the scars your teeth left in me in a mirror of my own signature on your body.” Fucking. POETRY. 🐈‍⬛

I am always so happy when I write shit like this and instead of everyone pointing at me and going, "Look, what an EDGELORD!" the response is you people being VERY nice and leaning into the feelsy fun! 💛

holy moly ??? i love the new 666 addition aaaah 😭🙏 the trials and tribulations of feeling scorned and ghosted by a loser who confessed his love to you and the next time you see him he’s holding your LITERAL heart in his hands by alastor ! OMFG this was too good esp the part where vox is like “bro why do YOU CARE ?? i thought you didn’t love me huh?” and alastor is like well. maybe i.do. 😐 LIKE CMONN this really played out like some soap drama and i loved the neat details on resuscitative thoroctomy (learned a new word too so double bonus) the fact vel was on the line w her and val’s apparent surgeon for val’a little ‘incidents ??? GOLDEN I SAYY hope we see more of ur oc … 🫣🫣 btw ofc vox would love to an end an argument with a kiss OF FUCKING COURSE HE WOULD 😭 thank u sm for this chapter princeliest my dear <3 hope life is treating u well too !! -🦌

Vox is ahead of Alastor in terms of effective in-the-moment conflict resolution, but goddamn if he isn't fucked up in his own fun little ways. They're so not done with most of these issues, but at least they're on they're way to maybe be able to have a real conversation about them!

You know. If they chose to do that kind thing. Instead of whatever they will probably do instead.

Anyway, THANK YOU!! I had a great deal of fun writing this chapter and digging into some of the issues that have been slowly collecting underneath the surface of kinky radiostatic, so I'm happy you guys are enjoying as well!! :D

AS FOR MY OC... I WILL POST ABOUT THEM SOON. I LOVE THEM A LOT AND IT EXCITES ME THAT PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW MORE OF THEM. Tysm for asking Q^Q

Just read the new addition to the 666 verse, and inside of me are two wolves: The first is saying: Immaculate, artistry of the highest form. We finally get Alastor’s own confrontation with his vulnerability and him trying to figure out what exactly the relationship with Vox means to him. Cannot wait for how this all is going to develop. The other part of me: THE BREADCRUMBS WORKED THE MUSE IS WRITING!!! Followed by this image (since tumblr won’t let me attach it while being anonymous) https://i.redd.it/hx2shk642vs71.jpg -🕊️

LMAO THAT PIC. Amazing, flawless, thank you. The breadcrumbs DEFINITELY worked, please keep feeding. Digging into Alastor's shit is bringing me life and I'm happy to share it, hahaha. We're swinging even harder on the introspection in the next one!

As a sucker for medical gore and aroace angst, I lack the words to express my love and appreciation for your most recent installment of 666, but your writing of radiostatic's dynamic was captivating and proved to be such a lovely read as always! I loved that you touched on Alastor's relationships with the women around him as that has always been such an interesting aspect of his character to me! I never really put much thought into how Vox's apparent avoidance of Alastor in the show could mirror Alastor's disappearance, and now it will Not leave my mind. My heart hurts for these two dorks, super looking forward to chapter 2!

"Medical gore and aroace angst" should be the title of my memoir. Honestly, this series has ended up a lot more edgy-bloody than I expected it to, since I usually tend to prefer to portray my whump/angst/violence/etc in a much more roundabout way, but it's actually kinda tipped over into, like... part of the point is how banal it is, how beside the point. The upsetting heavy-hitting bits aren't the blood, they're everything else that goes on around it. Anyway, thank you so much! <3 I think your heart will find some relief in chapter two, haha, I hope you enjoy!!

Meanwhile alastor, completely convinced that there’s no situation where vox actually loves him and is happy with the way things are—either vox wants more and is going to start asking for more, or he doesn’t actually love him and just wants to have sex with him and thus either way he is a Liar. They’re so fucking bad at this. No one is capable of being the adult here. I think they need an auspitice.

It's really funny that you said that, because that is kind of exactly the role that [spoiler] ends up playing, though in a more roundabout way, hahaha. They certainly need someone to, like, get them to be having the same conversation with each other instead of two parallel ones. I think the fun thing about writing Alastor reacting to his own feelings is just how much his reaction can change based on how things are framed for him, and it leaves a lot of wiggle room for how differently I've ended up writing him reacting to the season 1 finale in 666 vs in Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy.

But, god, you really nailed the description of what Alastor is feeling. <3

Vox in the latest 666, my ENTIRE HEART. Literally nothing about how he read the situation was a bad take or a leap to conclusions, but alastor constantly says the opposite of what he means and refuses to admit vulnerability or friendship and what the hell else was vox meant to do with that, of course he backed off, they need to have this talk so badly

YES, PRECISELY! Like, I hope it came through that really neither of them was completely crazy to react the way they did! It's a result of how much of their communication has been nonverbal, implied, and talking around things - they'd been doing so well up until this point, but there's only so far that can take you before you start thinking that you're on the same page when really you're reading two completely different books! Thank you sm! <3

‘But I am capable,” Alastor says gently. “I love you very much.” Vox gapes up at him. “...I. Fuck you.” His voice is tight, strained. “I don’t fucking believe you.” Alastor feels his smile thin. “Well. That’s just dandy, then, isn’t it?”’ I AM NOT OK GOING FUCKING FERAL

Probably one of my favorite lines to write, ehehehe. THANK YOU ANONNNN <3 It's kinda interesting to see how differently some people read this. Some folks thought Alastor was saying it to hurt Vox (which is how Vox read it). Some folks thought it was true (how Alastor intended it). Some folks thought Alastor was trying to fit into the mold that he thought Vox wanted from him (how I intended it). All of them make sense as readings! >:)

#ask #personal #Anonymous #black cat anon #sparkle anon #deer anon #dove anon #t #long post #tumblr if you break the cut on this one I'm gonna fuckin cry #answering 9 asks in one post here

[super-hero-confessions]

The stupid questions revolving around Homelander's rape of Becca are really starting to grate me.

Why, just why do people want or feel they need to see a violent rape happen onscreen to confirm that Homelander is a rapist??

He explicitly states he doesn't force himself on 'his own kind' to Maeve, but the logical answer is that none of his other victims fucking survived. Whether the encounter or to tell the tale. We already know Homelander has a problem with his strength when he's turned on and what he's capable of, it's a miracle Becca and Madelyn did survive at all. He has probably killed normal people who did actually consent too.

And maybe the only reason Becca didn't die? Was because she went fucking MISSING.

And even if that weren't the case and there were more victims that kept their mouths shut for very fucking obvious reasons if not just being paid off and forced to sign an NDA by Vought. I don't understand why anyone would question why Becca had a kid and not the others.

Are you people fucking kidding me??? Seriously?

You're asking why a guy who was tried, tested, and confirmed STERILE. Had only one goddamn kid out of a one in a million chance. With a woman he spent three goddamn hours torturing.

Do y'all just think babies are a poof magical thing that happens all the time with complete ease, 100% implantation rate, no miscarriages or complications ever? Do y'all not understand what sterility fucking is or how chance works for a guy who is deemed medically sterile?

Yeah. That's a stupid question.

Fandom? Please. Just fucking stop it. This is seriously getting out of hand. And I cannot if you genuinely don't have a clue on these things especially if you have a fucking uterus. Please, for your safety, do some research on reproductive health right now.

And I'm sorry if these questions come from a place of genuine ignorance and you mean no harm, I really am. But can you just... Use your brain for a few seconds before you ask questions this stupid? Or maybe just watch the show again to get some better detail?

Show Homelander is a rapist in canon. Period. End of story. Bye bye.

See you later.

#confession #the boys #tw:rape

[cyanidas]

BIG News: I'm trying to make some really huge changes, and I'll need your help.

Before I grant any details, I gotta preface everything with the reality of our situation; Jay, the sole breadwinner, has been a victim of yet another "new hire surprise fire". He was booted without warning, written or verbal, about two weeks ago.

Evidently this is very common in the production wood/metalworking industry, otherwise this wouldn't have happened so many fucking times, because he's a great person with amazing work ethic and that's not just my bias talking - most of his coworkers have felt the exact same way as me across every company he's worked for.

Of course, THAT DAY we wasted no time in reaching out to contacts and applying for mountains of positions on Indeed, on company websites, and the state hiring portal. Nobody has contacted him back. ONE hiring agency gave him a "maybe". Even I have applied to several places for myself, with not so much as a rejection.

Seeing the trauma this caused him first hand was my final fucking straw.

I'm sick to death of suffering this tragedy. I'm sick to death of hearing the love of my life, my Fiancé, cry because of how he was fired. And I'm sick to death of coming here or crawling to my friends and family for money they don't have because we're legitimately hopeless for it.

I don't have the heart to continually beg for cash. It was never something I've been good at or proud of doing, and it kills me inside to DM people for commissions I don't even have the time nor energy to do. I'm sick of this. All of this. I need it all to stop.

So of course, I want to nip this in the goddamn bud.

I met a very sweet vendor in Iowa who gave me a load of resources on how to get started selling my art on actual things I get to see and hold for myself and hand to people in person, namely conventions. It's a hell of a risk but I need this to work. I'm so exhausted from asking for money so please help me make this be the last time I ever need to come here for help.

More details will come, because I'm also tired of making plans and leaping forward without having anything to show for it. When I actually have these products designed, that's when I'm going to show you guys everything I've made, with as much detail on my thinking and planning as I can get out there (because lord knows the internet has taken advantage of people's generosity before).

When that time comes, please *please* give me your support. It would legitimately be world-changing for us.

I just wanted to get this out here asap so people would know what I'm going through and, hopefully plan along with me. I don't just want this to happen, I *need* this to *succeed*. I don't have any other option. Right now, I'm busting my ass on product designs (literally because this chair hurts!!), and Jay can attest to that.

I plan on having *something* to show for all my hard work by next week, and soon after, a Kickstarter to make it a reality. Keep an eye out!!

#let me know what you guys like to see sold in artists alleys #and what you like to see in online shops by digital artists #i just can't keep doing commissions and i can't just rely on friends #it's not a living #it's a hobby #i need this to change #this HAS to change #intercom #signal boost

[divinegrey]

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ / ꜰᴀᴅᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

good morning everyone! here's prompt number one for today. hope that you're having a good day/night, whenever you're reading this :3

prompt: Sleepy mornings with Fade! Where Reader need to get up but Fade won't let her so it's a back and forth quarrel until Reader admits defeat

words: 1400

warnings: cursing, fake fighting, fade acting like a goddamn nuisance (affectionate)

A quiet groan comes out of your mouth when you stretch out your arms and your legs, the morning stretch that only serves to make you even sleepier. 

Alas, you have things to do. 

Your eyes slide open, and it takes a few long blinks for you to clear the blurriness that comes after a pure, dreamless sleep. In this room, you always sleep well. The reason why is currently in a lump next to you, snoring softly with her arms wrapped around your waist and her face smashed into the back of your neck. If she was woken up by your stretching, she hasn’t shown it yet. 

Fade has a habit of absorbing any dreams you might potentially have. A consequence of communing with the Nightmare, she’d say. You never bother to ask for the details, because not dreaming is actually kind of nice, between all the hectic things you have to do on Base as Brim’s unofficial fourth in command. You’re basically Sage’s jockey, not that the healer would ever admit it. 

“Baby,” you mutter, your voice rough with sleep. You rub your eyes. “I need to get up.”

“No.” 

Oh, so she is awake. 

“Hazal, I’m serious. I have things I need to do.” 

Fade refuses to budge, even when you murmur her name as sweetly as you do. She grumbles into your neck, her arms winding tighter around you until you’re stuck against her like a fly to a glue trap. Even when you try moving, Fade just yanks you back down. 

Okay. This is a problem. 

You turn your head, just enough to see a portion of her face behind you. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, some strands loose from tossing and turning. She’s never usually this cuddly— only in the mornings. You say firmly, “Hazal.”  

Her eyes crack open (her eyeliner is smudged. You told her to remove it before bed, but she didn’t, it seems). “Y/N.” 

“I love you so much, but I need to get up and shower. I stink, and I have a debrief meeting I need to get to,” you say, sliding your hands over Fade’s arms. The faint hair dusting her arms bristles at the contact; she holds tighter. 

“They can deal without you for one morning, güzelim,” Fade says, the pet name rolling off her tongue like honey, combined with her deep morning voice that she swears is real. You’re hardpressed to leave the bed and the silence of her dorm room, but you take your job as fourth in command very seriously. It’s your way to help the higher up agents manage their stress. 

“I’ll come right back as soon as it’s over, I promise. I’ll even bring those eggo waffles you’re so obsessed with,” you try, but it’s difficult to reason with Fade when she seems so goddamn hellbent on keeping you in her bed. Literally any other time you would be more than happy to oblige her, but this morning isn’t one of those days where you can play hooky so easily. 

“Mm,” Fade hums. Wait, is she actually going to— “No. You’re staying.” 

“Fuck! Fade, c’mon!” 

She giggles— you love that giggle to death— into your neck, pressing a kiss there when she’s done. 

Okay, fine. She wants to play this way? Then it’s time to pull out the big guns. 

Pretending like you’ve given up, you sink back into the bed, grumbling something about how Brim is going to be so pissed at you for missing the meeting. Fade traces circles on your stomach through the fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Good enough. You’re going to be late if you wait any longer. 

You twist violently, hurling your body momentum to the side of the bed. 

Your plan works for all for exactly a second and a half— realizing that your intent was to leave her all alone, Fade’s nightmarish tendrils snake out, clasping around your ankles while she grabs the back of your shirt. A yelp leaves your mouth as you’re forced back onto the bed. When you try to sit up, Fade slams you back down with a hand on your chest, your head bouncing on the pillow. 

The tendrils at your feet loosen and you kick them free, fucking up the blankets in the process. 

And in a decision to prevent you from leaving any further, Fade throws herself over your lap, straddling your waist. Shadows wrap around your wrists, yanking them up toward the head of the bed. Eyes wide, you stare up at your girlfriend, feeling the weight of her hands pressing against your shoulders. 

She says only one word. “No.” 

“Okay!” You reply, half-smiling and half-just-a-little-turned-on from her display of power. “Okay, I relent! I’m staying, but you get to be the one to tell Brim why I’m not going to be at the meeting.” 

Fade cocks her head to the side, then leans over, grabbing your comms device from the bedside table. You always have it close by— you never know when an emergency is going to spring up and someone needs help. 

“Brimstone,” Fade says into the device, her voice thick with her accent. Her gaze is fixed on you, and she has yet to let up on the shadows tethering you to her bed. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s done that, nor is it going to be the last. 

You hear the response, as quiet as it is. “Fade? Care to explain why you’re using Y/N’s device instead of your own?” 

“Yes. Y/N is staying in with me this morning.” 

Well, that’s one way to do it. 

A sigh from the otherside, and Brimstone sounds so very tired. “Fade, Y/N is needed for the meeting this morning concerning yesterday's mission—” 

“They came home at one in the morning bleeding from several places. Isn’t it a policy that agents heavily injured from a mission get at least twelve hours to recuperate?” Fade cuts Brimstone off, and if you weren’t already used to this brand of insanity from Fade, you’d be gasping from shock. 

The line is quiet. 

Then—

“I’ll have Sage send Y/N the details once the meeting is done. Enjoy your morning. Please don’t use Y/N’s comms device again.” 

And the line is dead. 

A smirk on her face, Fade puts the device back onto the nightstand the same time she releases the shadows from your wrists. 

“Now, since you so rudely decided to interrupt my morning, you’re going to make up for it, aren’t you, güzelim?” Fade’s voice drops an octave, the telltale sign that you’re either going to get your shit rocked, or you’re going to get your shit rocked. 

(Yes, there is a difference between the two. You hope it's the latter.)

“Whatever you want, baby,” you say, and Fade grins. You reach up, cupping her face, and bring it down to yours. Fade relaxes against your body, holding you close to her as you pour your apology into her mouth. You tug the elastic in her hair free. The white and black strands fall across her shoulders and you spend ample time carding your fingers through the unruly strands, dragging your fingers in the spots that make her exhale into your lips. 

Her body goes pliant on top of yours, and you make the choice to roll her back over onto the mattress, putting yourself onto your side and running your hand down the side of her body, to the hem of her shirt. You push your hand underneath the fabric, fingers pressing into the dimples on her lower back before moving up her spine. 

“Is this apology enough?” You murmur into her mouth, holding her gaze. She scratches the nape of your neck with her nails, a shiver running down your back. Damn your body for betraying you. 

“Hm, keep trying, I don’t think you’ve covered everything yet,” Fade whispers. She wraps her arms around your neck, bringing you back in, and who are you to say no to your girlfriend?

~~~~~ A/N: pst!!! my prompts are still open. check it out here!

#fade x reader #valorant fade x reader #valorant x reader #valorant #valorant fanfiction #fade imagines #valorant imagines

[fbfh]

husband!kit walker x reader hcs

wc: 900

genre: fluff, domestic bliss

warnings: kit being adorable, optional mention of reader having a bad family, kit standing up for you, kit is a good husband and head over heels for you

song rec: be my baby - the ronettes

a/n: I LOVE THIS MAN!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!!!!! AWOOGA!!!!!! also I actually rested and it only took two days and I feel literally reborn???? I should do that more often lol

@yesv01

Honestly I can’t even start with dating headcanons

Kit Walker is such pure raw husband material that if you get within six feet of him a diamond ring appears on your finger

He’s a simple man really

He just wants to do a good job at some honest work to provide for you

Come home to your cozy house you share

Kiss you on the lips and dance around your kitchen while dinner cooks

Maybe a couple of rugrats running around 

You know that tiktok audio of “you can pick anyone fictional to be your husband but divorce is never an option” “I COULD GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. AND I WILL.”

It’s Kit

That’s literally Kit

If you need a fake husband 

Or a temporary husband 

Don’t choose Kit

Bc he will treat you so fucking well

You’ll get way way way too attached

To get this out of the way

I hate to see Kit in distress or pain

But dear god does he look hot when he is

Anyway back to happy Kit

Which is all the time bc he is so so happy around you

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, this man’s full name is Kit “that’s my wife!” (proceeds to knock someone out swiftly with one punch) Walker

He starts every morning by waking up smiling

Because he gets to wake up next to you

He looks at you, all sun soaked in the morning light, and he can’t believe he gets to live another day with a living dream come true like you

Then he wakes you up with kisses

So so so many kisses

Sometimes other things but that’s another story (and not for the sfw hcs)

This man knows everything about you

He knows how you like your coffee or tea or whatever, your favorite food, your favorite songs for kitchen dancing

He knows everything you love and hate

Yk the “excuse me! he asked for no pickles >:(“ meme

That’s Kit

Kit will (very politely bc he’s kind and understands how hard it is to work jobs that involve the general public bc of all the assholes that come through the garage) fix your order if someone gets it wrong

When someone asks if he’s your boyfriend he’ll happily and proudly correct them that he’s actually your husband

He doesn’t do the thing where he holds up his hand and points to his ring but he will pull you close and wrap his arms around you 

And most likely kiss you in front of the person

God I haven’t brought up The Look in a while

But Kit Walker CONSTANTLY looks at you with The Look 

Like all the goddamn time 

He’s not racist, probably an ally, and definitely a feminist

And he loves you so so much

God he’s such a catch

Once your friends spend a few minutes around him they start to realize that too

Or anyone really

You’re usually met with “wow where did you dig him up?? Where did you find him?? How do I get one??” 

Feel free to say you met at the mental hospital bc no one can tell if you’re joking or not

And he is literally perfect to bring as your date to holiday parties and family events

I mean he’s your husband so why wouldn’t he be your date

But no matter how hectic or crazy family stuff gets, he can totally handle it

He’s the perfect buffer

He’s so naturally smooth and likable and charming 

Everyone in your life that meets him totally approves

I mean all they have to do is see the way he looks at you

No one can deny that

If your family is really bad

Or generally not someone you want to be around

Kit will defend the HELL out of you

He’s not scared of confrontation, especially if it’s on your behalf 

And he is not scared to counter any underhanded comments with “Now, what did you mean by that?”

Will not let it go

He’s not going to let anyone talk shit about his spouse, his love, his sweetheart 

Especially the people that should have your back

It’s so interesting to watch because even when he’s confronting someone and defending you and telling people off for thinking they can treat you like that

It still doesn’t make him feel scary or less gentle than you know he is

And he is so so gentle with you

He says I love you all the time

With every touch

Every kiss

Every look and act of service

He’s saying it

He tells you how much he loves you all the time

Because how can he not??

You’re the most knockout dynamite dreamboat he could ever hope to be around 

He doesn’t know how he got you to fall for him back 

How he got you to love him

(he absolutely swept you off your feet)

But he’s just so glad that you do

He knows you inside and out

He knows everything about you

And he loves all of it

And you know everything about him

And you love him right back

Because you guys really are a match made in heaven

#kit walker #kit walker x reader #husband!kit walker #ahs #ahs x reader

[awakeandnotcryingyet]

literally the most satisfying thing I've done recently is start earnestly amassing an offline music collection like it's the 00's. downloading albums, fixing up covers and track info, embedding lyrics (learned that mp3 files support this literally this week), tidying up all the little details until I'm left with a library completely disconnected from any walled garden streaming service, yet the browsing and listening experience is completely identical.

and I don't even bother with flacs or anything, full bitrate mp3s are more than good enough for me and literally anything will play it; I could load this entire album onto any music player made in the last 30 years and it'll just work. say I'm going on a trip and don't wanna risk my fancy smartphone getting lost or damaged, I could buy a lil nokia dumbphone for 25 bucks and load it with an sd card with my entire library on there.

If any part of the library is not to my liking, I can just change it myself. I can update low res album art or even replace it with other editions or straight up anything, I can properly add featured artists and other fun metadata, I can remove stupid suffixes like "(20th anniversary edition)" from every goddamn track title on an album seriously what the fuck is the point of that. I actually find streaming services really inconvenient; they're so restrictive!

No ads, no recurring payments, no songs getting removed because the platform doesn't have the streaming rights, no albums getting swapped for alternate versions for reasons, no music is lost just because the streaming service gets shelved for any reason. I can pay 10 bucks for a new album every month *if I want to* and still save money compared to a streaming subscription, but honestly I'm happy to spend a bit more sometimes for the convenience of having full ownership of my music collection.

I was gonna hand it to streaming services for at least being good discovery tools, but that's not even true. I get more and better recommendations from communities of actual people than what the streaming algorithms can muster up (which is often just the same 10 albums over and over and over again). even youtube does a better job and I don't even have to pay for that.

take back some control from the streaming services that are currently enshittifying the music industry, go get some mp3s.

[krikeymate]

Okay but the real question is: in your larger age gap au, is Sam born 5 years earlier, or is Tara born 5 years later?

Both options would change different things, like whether Tara has the same friends as in canon or not. If Tara is born 5 years later, then she probably wouldn't be friends with Amber, so Amber and Richie's plot would have to be carried out differently.

On the other hand, if Sam is born 5 years earlier, then she would be much closer in age to the teens from Scream 4, which could also be really interesting.

You've exposed one of my fatal flaws, which is that when I'm thinking about Sam and Tara, I forget other characters exist.

This has given me some really interesting things to think about! And think I did as I made my dinner.

So the intention is that Tara is born 5 years later, in 2007 instead of 2002. I hadn't considered Sam being the one born earlier, and I think unless you really fuck with the Scream timeline in major ways, it wouldn't work. I actually thought out a detailed way of how that could work with Billy having escaped and actually still being alive and then I realised I was actually having Sam be born 5 years later not earlier, whoops, but great opportunity if you wanted to make Tara Billy's daughter too lmao. You could have Billy and Christina both be older and out of school, it would have the added bonus of making his relationship with Sidney extra creepy, but otherwise, I like to stick mostly to canon as much as possible.

So, here's what I'm thinking. Hicks and Sam have an entirely different relationship in this AU. Sam does get into some trouble with the law, she does have some trouble with drinking and drugs, but she doesn't go entirely off the rails. Hicks sets her straight, reminds her that between her and her mother, Tara is likely to get taken away. Hicks is the reason she wins a custody fight against her mother.

Sam still babysits Wes and his friends at Judy's (she lets her bring Tara), and even though they're older, they're so gentle with her baby sister. By the time the babysitting group are becoming teens (around 12/13 or so), they're too old to need a babysitter really, but Judy and Martha still pay her to do so (to keep them out of trouble). They start to invite their new friend Amber over. Sam doesn't really get why they're friends, her relationship is mostly borderline nasty snide comments and arguing with Mindy, but kids will be kids. Amber doesn't seem to like her friends, she definitely doesn't care for Sam (and feels the need to comment on them still needing a babysitter), but for whatever goddamn reason, this girl seems to adore Tara. Amber doesn't even like children! She's got a little sister of her own, and they've all seen the way she recoils from kids in the park. Now to be fair, Tara is very adorable. Who wouldn't love Tara? But still. It's weird. But Sam isn't going to deny Tara someone else who will be affectionate with her.

Years pass. Sam feels a bit weird that her friends are all high school kids and their moms, but these people buy her little sister birthday presents and invite them over for Christmas... they're like a family to her. Chad teaches Tara soccer, and Mindy introduces Tara to scary movies (Sam nearly murders her for this), and Wes, well he just does whatever Tara asks him to, the softy. Amber's her second confidant, she tells her things she's not ready to tell her sister. Sam doesn't like how close they are, but as Tara becomes a teenager, she knows there's no point fighting it. It isn't a hill she's willing to die on.

Sam never runs away, she stays in Woodboro, she gains custody over her sister. She rents a small two-bedroom home from a compassionate elderly woman who lives with her son now and is sweet on her sister. She's had some problems with... seeing things, her therapist still hasn't settled on a diagnosis yet, but the antipsychotics she's given her work, and that's all that matters her therapist says. All that matters is figuring out whether it's genetic and whether her sister is going to have problems too, is what she retorts.

She works at the bowling ally, she's thinking about Judy's offer to have her work at the station. A few months ago a new guy rolled into town, looking for a fresh start away from a toxic family, and they've been having fun. Richie keeps asking when she'll introduce him to her sister, and she laughs him off, he's so not at that point.

She's a couple of blocks away from home - the boss let her go early and told Richie he'll be making up for his constant slacking by staying late to clean - when a piercing alarm sounds from her phone. It's her security system, alerting her the police have been called.

Sam sprints the rest of the way home.

#/mp #ask box #autism-swagger #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #AU: five years late #the idea of Sam being the sameish age as the 2011 kids tho is super interesting

[venusofvolterra]

The Picture — A Demetri Volturi Ficlet

“What are you reading, my love?,” Demetri crooned, shifting his attention over from the candle he had just finished lighting, to his mate.

They looked beautiful, laying back in the chase lounge in the rec room. Demetri had been in there toying over something for the kings — what exactly? His mate had no clue, nonetheless, they new that when Demetri was working, he liked it when they sat quietly in the room with him. He always said it helped him focus.

He’d gotten up to give his mind a moments rest before returning to his work. It had gotten dark, so he disguised this with the task of lightning the candles in the room. Which he took his time in doing.

“Picture of Dorian Gray,” they shrugged, “after the 10th reread it gets to be oddly seasonal, ya know, with the holidays and such.”

“Yes, I think I know,” he said, approaching the chase, “though it took me until about the 50th read to see its wintery appeal,” he added, teasingly. He kneeled in front of them, placing his hands on their knees.

“You know, you’re the only person I’ve met who brags about being so goddamn old,” they snarked back at him.

He clicked his tongue and took their hands in his, “Secretly, I think you get off on it,” he punctuated with a wink, earning him an eye roll from his mate.

“Though,” he continued, “I have a story for you that honestly,” he quirked an eyebrow, “I’m surprised I haven’t really told you before.” His mate looked at him with curiosity, they always loved his stories.

“It’s about The Picture,” he began, he furrowed his brow like he was trying to remember the details “I inspired it actually,” he looked up into his mate’s eyes.

They grinned, like they were trying and failing to contain their laughter.

Demetri looked at them quizzically, “What’s so funny?” He inquired.

“D, saying the picture was inspired by you is egoic— even for you.”

“It’s true! At least let me finish my story before you determine it’s validity,” he pleaded sweetly back at them.

“The first time I met him, it was in Ireland — typical case of a nomad bumming around and not being very clean about it.” He punctuated with a sigh, “nonetheless a few murders had made the papers with details of obvious bite wounds on the neck and the victims had been drained of blood so I was sent to go take care of it.

“It was a simple job really. I killed the nomad and was on my way back when I ran into a boy of maybe 14 years in the woods. We locked eyes. I honestly considered making a snack of the boy and decided against it because I didn’t want to risk his disappearance being linked to the other murders in the area.

“He stared at me a bit, I stared back at him —eventually he asked me why my eyes were red, I was annoyed so I told the boy I had a rare and contagious illness that he’d be smart not to catch.

“He continued to stare at me. I got bored of the exchange so I sighed, exasperated, and hissed at him and he darted in the opposite direction. I though that was the end of it.

“7 years later, I was London, tracking a former member of the reserve guard. The vampire was in some hidden bar. Hunting probably. So I turned on the charm and talked my way in.

“I noted a familiar scent in the room when I went in but didn’t pay too much mind to it. That is, until I sensed a man approach me from behind. I turned around to look at him. “Don’t I know you?” He questioned, the smell of liquor was thick on his breath. “I don’t believe we have,” I said, presenting my hand for him to shake, though I did in fact recognized him, he was the little boy from the woods in Ireland. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, actually — not an unwelcome gesture I suppose.

“I asked him for his name, he said it was Oscar and then —”

“No fucking way!” His mate interrupted, “you got hit on my Oscar Wilde and you kept your composure?!”

“Darling,” Demetri pursed his lips, “do you think my job description includes fawning over then-little-known authors?” He said smartly, earning himself yet another eye roll from his mate.

“Anyway, once again, I found myself in London, about 9 years after that. I visited a theatre. A vampire I was looking for was an actress. I decided to get tickets and enjoy the show that night as it had already begun. I decided to wait until after it was done to approach the vampire so as to not cause a ruckus.

“I noticed that familiar scent once more occupying the same box I was. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me but,” Demetri made a gesture as if to say, ‘you know, things never go as we hope.’

“He got up and approached me. “Must be some great deal you’ve made with the devil, you still look the same after all these years” he said, leaning over the balcony next to me, he was really looking closely at me “if the devil is from Egypt, sure,” I said, I really wasn’t in the mood — frankly Oscar was quite vexing. He clearly didn’t understand what I’d meant — which is good for him I suppose because otherwise I’d have to kill him.

“I was focusing on the stage now as the vampire I was looking for had finally made her way onto it, he seemed to notice the sudden narrowing of my focus, “she’s beautiful,” he commented, though it was clear his praise was empty and I sensed an undertone of what might have been disappointment. “She is,” I agreed, hoping it would get him to leave. “You’re not sick,” he accused. “No, I’m not,” I growled, looking him directly in the eye. He almost fell over.

“It’s worth saying that the actress I was looking for wasn’t to be seen again and the one who had replaced her was notably terrible.” He finished.

Still holding his mates hands he looked up at them once again, “believe me yet?”

“I suppose your story seems plausible now,” they admitted, with an air of dramatization — performing like a detective who had finished grilling a suspect.

He pecked them on their cheek before standing up, “I have work to return to,” he said.

“And I have a date with the morally corrupt yet deeply charming Dorian Gray,” his mate replied.

“Yes you do, whenever you want, my dear,” he winked.

Dear readers, I know for a fact that I am not the first person on this sight to suggest that Demetri Volturi is Dorian Gray so if you do know who it is — PLEASE let me know so that I may tag them.

Furthermore, this is my longest, non-research based piece (not that this wasnt researched but it wasn’t so heavy on exact historical facts like my other writing)on this blog so any comments, replies, reblogs, likes, or engagement otherwise are encouraged and deeply appreciated!

#I refuse to proof read this again rn #twilight #the volturi #demetri volturi #volturi #the twilight saga #historical twilight

[here4kpopfics]

Kelly! Congrats on the milestone! I wanted to put in a drabble request with this prompt [ 89. “YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!”. ] Could we do this with LTDO!jk and oc? 😂🫢 You can choose if they'll get smutty or not 😘

you, my love, get a short one. only bc the ltdo couple already has two full fledged things in the works. 😉 we'll just match this to THIS character ask...for reasons. completely unedited bc i'm lazy.

Masterlist | AskBox | Coffee?

ltdo!jjk x reader | mentions of smut | 747 words | 18+ | it's the LTDO couple, you know they're just filthy little shits.

You’re gonna kill Jungkook. 

Namjoon brought you, Jeongyeon, and Jimin to some big business expo or something. He barely gave any details. And you somehow got roped into a meeting about the pros and cons of selling thrifted goods. At least, that’s what you think it was about. You can’t remember. 

Why?

Because your boyfriend is a needy brat. And just spammed you with eight, yes EIGHT, varying photos of himself in extremely nsfw situations. From him in your goddamn lingerie to him with his painfully hard cock in his hand as his fingers smear his pre-cum, to him completely naked on your shared bed, his legs spread to show the sparkling butt plug you gave him for Christmas. 

You nearly sputtered the water you had just taken a large sip of all over some pretty important business people. You quickly excuse yourself, storming out of the little room and finding an empty conference hall, thumb slamming down on your boyfriend’s name. 

“Sparkles!” 

“What the actual fuck was that, Jungkook?” You hiss into your phone.

“What? You said you were bored. I thought I’d help out…”

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A MEETING!” You whisper yell. 

“Baby, why are you in a meeting? You don’t do meetings.”

“I have no fucking clue, Kookie. Namjoon just threw me to the wolves and suddenly I’m arguing the pros of thrifting and— nuh-uh. We are not getting off topic here, you brat.”

“Oh, call me a brat again.” He chuckles and you hear a faint whimper on the other end. 

“Are you touching yourself right now, Kookie?” 

“Mhmm…” you can tell he’s put you on speaker, laying the phone on his abs close enough to hear him fucking his hand. 

“You better fucking stop touching yourself right now.”

“Can’t. Feels too good, Sparkles.”

“You stop yourself right now, Kookie. Or I swear to god, I won’t fuck you into oblivion when I get home. You’ll just have that damn plug in and you’re only choice will be to fuck your hand and nothing else.” 

The whine he lets out makes you want to leave and rush home to have your way with him. 

“Baby, please.”

“No. Either edge yourself or stop touching yourself completely and I’ll reward you. Don’t do either and you get an added week of abstinence from me.” 

“Fuck. Okay. Okay. I’ll stop. Please hurry home, Sparkles. I need you.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”  You promise, listening to him edge himself until he cried over the phone. You hung up with him, promising to be home within a few hours. 

You lied. You didn’t get home until almost midnight. Jeongyeon and Jimin wanted to go out and drink while Namjoon left to spend time with his husband who was running the shop. 

When you enter your room, your boyfriend is curled up on the bed, back in baggy lounge pants and a giant shirt. His hair’s a mess across his face and you can’t help but smile at how soft he looks. 

You crawl on the bed, body hovering over him as you lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Kooooooookie. Wake up, baby.” You whisper in his ear, suppressing the urge to laugh when he whines, subconsciously moving onto his back to accommodate you straddling him. When he opens his eyes, his hands find their way to your hips. 

“You said you’d rush home…liar.” He mumbles half asleep. 

“I know, baby. But you deserved to be punished for sending me photos while I was with fancy important people.” 

“I’m sure they would’ve liked them and completely understood and let you leave early to come tend to your needy boyfriend.” You snicker as his hands move to your ass, massaging the soft flesh. 

“If by letting me leave early, you mean banished me from the exhibit and banned from every convention ever, then yes, I should’ve.” You grin, lips meeting his. 

“Whatever it takes to get you back to me.” He mumbles against your lips, his hands bringing your hips down to roll against him and swallowing the moan he knew you’d let out.

“Still, baby?” He mewls when you press your hips down on his again. “You look so sleepy, though.” 

“No,” he shakes his head, hips pushing up to meet yours, “not sleepy. Please, Sparkles. Please.” 

The second you say okay, you're flipped over onto your back, fully accepting it’s going to be a long night.  

#kelly posts #kelly writes #fic: leave the door open #ltdo!jjk #fic: ltdo drabble #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jjk drabble #drabble requests

[leojurand]

i see people on booktwt praising the radiant emperor duology very often and every time, instead of remembering that i actually had fun reading those books, i think about how flawed they are, and i wish i could understand the endless praise they get. but i sadly do not.

and then i remembered a tweet by shelley parker-chan about dunnett and her novels that actually explains, in a way, why their writing doesn't work for me. the tweet was a reply to someone and it was:

but Dunnett in general never feeds me the (emotional) food and I get frustrated. like bitch these power plays are so good but why don’t you make it JUICY. don’t make me have to use my imagination

it's actually very funny how this explains exactly the problems i have with their duology. clearly, dunnett is a big fan of subtlety. also very clear, SPC is not, and doesn't utilize it much (at all) in their novels.

and the complete lack of subtlety is something that really bothered me in the radiant emperor duology. that, hand in hand with the endless repetition, makes sure you don't have to use your imagination when it comes to the characters. ever. you will be told how they feel about each other and about what's happening and about what they've done and will do. constantly

but that, for me at least, doesn't make you connect with those characters more, and it doesn't make them more complex (in fact, sometimes they feel like two emotions in a trenchcoat lol). of course too little emotional food can leave you hungry, but too much can cause indigestion

the thing is, i don't need dunnett to tell me that, for example, nicholas was battling with the pain of gelis's betrayal and the profound grief of the loss of his closest friend post-SoG. i know he's dealing with those feelings, i'm seeing it, because he fucked off to be a menace in scotland and he's wearing all black and he's kidnapping people to torment them for a while (lol). and that's so much more interesting than writing paragraph after paragraph of his emotional breakdown. because, yes, i can use my imagination. i like doing that!

would the lymond chronicles be better if we got descriptions of how lymond is drowning in pain and self-hatred during basically every chapter in RC or CM? it's obvious that that's what's happening to him. i think it would actually make the books and the character worse, because doing that doesn't fit who lymond is, just like it wouldn't fit nicholas.

the constant repetition of how zhu, ouyang, and baoxiang feel are not "juicy" to me. they're fine characters and i like them. i would even say they're pretty interesting! but you could pretty much define each of them with a couple of words and you would get like. 90% of who they are. no subtlety. no imagination.

you can't define lymond with two or three or ten words. same with nicholas. even dunnett's characters who seem more simple and straightforward, like richard or julius, are more complex than that

another thing is that focusing so much on the emotional journey of the characters means that other parts of the book are completely neglected. the radiant emperor duology is a low fantasy historical fiction. but the historical part of it is given almost no attention at all. if i pick a histfic book, i want to feel immersed in the time period it's portraying. that didn't happen at all while reading these two books. you may like dunnett's minute historical details more or less (hell, i'm a huge fan and even i want to skip most of the historical mumbo jumbo in some of her novels (the ringed castle)), but goddamn she makes you feel immersed in the 15th and 16th centuries

anyway, the conclusion here is that SPC doesn't love dunnett's style, and i don't love their style. i will probably still read their following books when they get published, but i really, really hope they learn just one thing: sometimes (most of the time) books that are subtle, are better

#it may seem like i've made two back to back posts complaining about dunnett criticism but actually! #this is radiant emperor criticism using dunnett to explain myself. completely different things actually #but also i am a complainer and i always Need to complain about criticism of my faves #especially when i don't feel it's fair #anyone who followed me during the peak of my age of madness brainrot knows this too well lol #also not tagging this post at all like it just seems so petty

[catierambles]

Null Ch.20 (final)

Pairing: Spoilers

WC 2486

Warnings: Talks of sex and sexuality, attempts at emotional manipulation Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @fvckinghenrycavill , @raccoon-eyed-rebel , @eldarwen333

August let her go, didn’t follow her, and he went back into the study seeing Charles still sitting in the chair where Anna had parked him. Napoleon and Walter had shown up at some point and the mood was tense. Dragging over her computer chair, August sat down in it heavily, looking at Charles who wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Her succubus is starting to come out and she’s hungry.” August said simply, “Attunement is probably almost complete.”

“I should--” Charles said, starting to stand.

“Sit. Down.” August said evenly and he sank back down in the chair.

“Someone want to tell us what’s going on?” Walter asked, “Charles won’t say.” August told him, Sy and Mike filling in details he didn’t know and Napoleon sighed when he was done, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You fucking idiot.” He said, “Do you realize how goddamned lucky you were to find someone like her? And you threw it all away. For what?”

“She’ll forgive me.” Charles said, “I know exactly what to say and it’ll be like it never happened.”

“If you think we’re letting you go anywhere near her,” August started, “You’re delusional.”

“She needs me.” Charles said, “She loves me.”

“No, I don’t.” They looked over, seeing Anna leaning in the doorway of the study. “Maybe one day I would have, but you killed any chance of that happening. Leave, Charles, I never want to see you again.”

“Anna, dearest, please just listen to me.” He said, standing from the chair. “That woman, she meant absolutely nothing. You’re the one I want most of all. I told you, however long forever turns out to be, I’m yours.” She just blinked at him slowly. “I love you.”

“The only person you love is yourself.” She said, “You’re not capable of loving anyone else. I’m done. Done listening to you. Done being manipulated by you. All you ever did from the moment we met is lie and manipulate me. You did whatever I wanted, whatever I asked, whatever you thought you needed to to gain my trust and I have to hand it to you, it worked. I fell for it. I think we all fell for it, or we just didn’t want to see the truth. Your brothers wanted you to be a better person, thought you finally were, but Napoleon is right. No one changes that drastically and that quickly. So you’re going to go, you’re going to leave, and you’re never going to come back.”

“Where am I to go?” He asked.

“I don’t know and honestly,” She shrugged, “I don’t care. Maybe hit up Ann again, you two deserve each other.” He looked like he was going to say something, but her steely gaze killed anything he might have said. Charles vanished with a sigh and the hard set to her shoulders relaxed, tears rolling down her face again and August got up from the chair, going to her and pulling her into his arms, letting her cry against his chest.

Anna called out of work the next day and they all gathered in the living room, eating the sweet german pancakes she made. Even Walter was there, so space was a little limited. They hadn't left last night, not wanting to leave her alone in the house, taking turns checking up on her throughout the night.

"Doll." Sy started, swallowing his bite of pancake, "August told us last night that your succubus is coming out."

"I had a sandwich that settled it." She said.

"That's a bandaid and you know it." Sy said, "Eventually you're gonna need to actually feed."

"Trying not to think about that, thank you." Anna said. "Don't know how I'm going to swing it, personally, given the fact that I'm still…ya know, a magical space ace."

"There's passive energy." Napoleon suggested, taking a sip of his coffee, but she pulled a face.

"Strip clubs make me uncomfortable." She said, "Male or female orientated."

"There's always--" August started but she shook her head.

"Nope." She said, "I'm not using you guys like that. I like the dynamic we have, let's not fuck it up by, you know, fucking."

"Anna."

"August." She said, "I'm not doing it. So please, do not, do not, do not suggest it."

"You can't not feed, sweetcheeks." Mike said and she sighed.

"I'm gonna bank on the fact that because I'm not fully succubus, I'm not going to have to as often and I can just slap a bandaid on it when it rears its ugly head." She said and Mike stood from his seat on an ottoman, setting his plate aside. She watched him carefully as he went to her, taking her plate from her hands and setting it aside as well before pulling her to standing. "Mike…"

"Just testing a theory, try not to knee me in the balls too hard." He said and reached up, holding the side of her face and leaning into her. She leaned back a little but not far enough and he kissed her, his lips moving slowly over hers. Anna sighed through her nose, her eyes closing as she pressed back against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her hands against his back. Mike's hand slid back into her hair as he deepened the kiss and a shudder ran through the room as they felt her hunger build. Normally they wouldn't have been able to, but it was probably due to the fact that the attunement began from her exposure to their energy. "Shit." Mike sighed as he pulled away. "Theory confirmed."

"I'm gonna make myself some more pancakes. You guys want anything? No? Okay." She said, her voice strained and she pulled away from him, heading into the kitchen. She was leaning with her hands against the sink when she heard a noise behind her and looked over her shoulder, seeing Sy in the doorway. "Please don't tell me you're going to kiss me too."

"Tempted." He admitted with a shrug, "But no."

"Mike doing it was…weird." Anna admitted, "I always kinda saw him as a little brother, you know, but now…" She shuddered with a sound. "I can't use you guys like that. You told me that the reason why you care, the reason why you stick around, is because I don't see you guys sexually. If I start getting naked with you, that'll no longer be the case and you'd all be well within your rights to…"

"We're not going to leave, doll." Sy said, "And there's nothing wrong with friends with benefits."

"I know there isn't but I don't do that. I don't do casual sex. That's why this is so fucked up. The ace that's turned into a damn succubus. I still don't feel it, I don't feel that urge, I look at you guys and it goes no further than "wow, handsome"." She said and he went up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to press a kiss to the back of her head. "But this other side of me that's so completely alien pops up and I…it doesn't feel like me. It feels like something else in my skin and I hate it."

"I'm sorry, baby girl." Sy said with a sigh, "We did this to you. Charles may have kicked it off, but us being around finished it. I'd say we could go and leave you alone, but that wouldn't do anything, it wouldn't reverse the attunement and we'd be liars because we'd be abandoning you."

"Sy, the attunement. Seeing as I'm part demon now, does that mean I'll live as long as you guys?"

"Yeah, doll, it does." He said.

"Fuck." She said, "I can't even just wait it out for another fifty, sixty years."

"Anna, please, please don't do anything irrational. Please don't do anything to hurt yourself." Sy said, his voice cracking somewhat. "We couldn't bear to lose you like that."

"I'm not…" She turned, looking up at him, "I'm not going to do that. Don't worry." He nodded, not looking at her but his eyes were red and she pulled him in, hugging his chest, his arms coming around her tight.

"Do you trust us, babe?" He asked and she nodded against him, "Then let us help you. It doesn't have to be all the time, I'm not saying you should jump into bed with us on the regular, just when bandaids aren't working anymore. We understand that that's not how you are. We're not going to be like Charles where we expect sex from you all the time just because we did it once, and go elsewhere when reality sets in. We know that's not how you are."

"But what about you guys? I can't expect you to only feed from me." She said, "That wouldn't be at all fair."

"Well, that's the thing, doll, feeding from another demon always lasts us longer than if we feed from a human. So we won't have to feed as often."

"Well shit, why bother with humans at all then?"

"Personal preference. There are those who only feed from other demons, but the majority of us like being with humans."

"So, what, we turn into some kind of polycule? You guys only feed from me and I only feed from you?"

"If that'll work for you, yeah."

"I can't--"

"Ask that of us, I know. The fact that you're still thinking about us and our needs and our feelings just makes us want to help you more. Us helping you won't change how we see you, well it may a bit, but with you being you I know you still won't see us like that. We'll still be people to you. Did you see Charles differently after you guys went to bed?"

"No. Slightly more fluffy, but I still didn't feel the urge to jump him. Not to say I wouldn't want to, it just…wasn't high up on my To Do list, pardon the term."

"Sex isn't a priority to you. It's not on the forefront of your mind and it's not the first thing you think about when you see someone nice lookin'." Sy said and she nodded, "But this, with being what you are now, it may not be a priority to you but it's a necessity to it. You said that strip clubs make you uncomfortable, but what would make you more uncomfortable? Going to one of those? Or being with someone who cares about you? Who you trust? And who wants to help you?"

"That's a very good question." Anna said, "I honestly don't know. I'm not… sex-repulsed. Sex itself doesn't make me uncomfortable, it's just a biological act that's made more enjoyable based on how I feel about the person, and something I only want to do with people who meet certain criteria."

"Do we meet those criteria?" Sy asked and there was a pause before she nodded. "You wouldn't be usin' us, doll, or taking advantage of us. You'd be gettin' somethin' from us, and we'd be gettin' somethin' from you."

"That makes it sound very…transactional."

"A bit, but it wouldn't be somethin' unfeelin' like going to a sex worker. We care about you, you're not just a way to scratch an itch and I know you don't see us like that either."

"Not at all."

"Do you want to be with any of us?" He asked and she thought for a long moment.

"It'd be nice, yeah. You're all good lookin' dudes and I trust you."

"Then let us help you." Sy said, "The dynamic may shift a bit, but it won't change because, unlike Chuck, we know and understand how you operate. We just don't pretend we do in order to get what we want. Also, think of it this way, you'd save money on batteries."

"Oh my god, Sy." She said with a snort, dropping her head to his chest.

"Yeah, you'll be sayin’ that soon enough." He said and smiled when she laughed. "Final verdict?"

"If y'all start getting jealous or possessive like Charles did, you're done, understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am. You're your own woman. We may be yours, but we don't own you."

"And if any of you want out, please let me know, and don't go behind my back. I won't take it personally if you just talk to me. I thought Charles and I were in a relationship, he made me believe we were, and we all know how that turned out." She said, "If he had just been open with me from the start, I would have been cool with it. We wouldn't have been together because I don't do open relationships, but I would have understood."

"Of course, we ain't shitheads." Sy said and he could see the gears in her head turning.

"Fine, but if it gets weird and I'm not comfortable with it, it stops. Capiche? No arguments."

"Yep." Sy said.

"Fuck this is so weird." She said and he rubbed her back.

"I know." He said, "C'mon, let's go tell the others and lay down the ground rules."

What they had may not be conventional by any means, but they all cared about each other, and that was good enough for them. Anna only fed from one of the guys when she needed to. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was like nothing had changed, it's just that one percent of the time, she went to bed with one of them. Sex still wasn't a priority, she still didn't feel sexual attraction, and they understood this. They didn't put pressure on her to do anything she didn't want to if she wasn't hungry or in the mood, and she told them flat out that if they wanted to go elsewhere, they could. They just didn't want to. Walter even eventually joined the dynamic, being the last one to be introduced to the group.

It was a few years before Charles showed up again, and Anna found she wasn't angry at him anymore. She didn't feel anything for him anymore. He had tried to throw a tantrum when he learned of their dynamic, but she shut him down with a look. He even tried to make moves on her, probably thinking he was back in her good graces as she wasn't angry anymore, but she shut that shit down too. He ended up leaving, sullen and unsatisfied.

Anna didn't play favorites, she didn't feed from one of them more than the others, but Sy and Mike held a special place in her heart because of all the things they helped her through. She loved them just a little more than the others.

What they had wasn't conventional by any means, but she had a relationship based on trust and understanding and not sex. It just happened to be with five amazing incubi.

#henry cavill #charles brandon #my writing #null