#christ what the fuck happened with this one

[gglitch1dd]

Anger and Misunderstandings

DILF Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Context: An anon had asked me what if we had Angry Dilf Izuku but one of his kids disrespected reader, like what happened with angry Dilf Katsuki. Sorry for losing your question Anon.

This was a very interesting one to write considering the fact that Izuku grew up with basically a single mother and we've never seen him seriously punish the boys..

Note: Disrespect, shouting, arguments, angst

You sighed as you looked at the dishes that were still not done. You moved a hand to the bridge of your nose. Asahi hadn't done his chores- again.

Ever since Toshinori had gone to UA, you started losing a grip on Asahi. He was normally a very good kid, overwhelmingly brilliant especially at mathematics. He was the smartest kid you knew and it could be frustrating whenever he was doing college level mathematics at the age of fourteen and you couldn't help him, but he was overall patient and rather stoic.

However, you weren't sure whether it was puberty getting to him, or maybe it was something you weren't aware of but, Asahi seemed to find whatever you said as not necessary. Almost as if he didn't respect anything you said nowadays. He always had his headphones on and refused to talk to you. When he entered the car when you picked him up or whether it was moving around the house it was almost as if you just trying to talk to him was an inconvenience in his life.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you moved to go upstairs to his room. You knocked on his door. "Asahi!" You called. But your son didn't answer. You knocked again. "Asahi!" He didn't answer.

With a sigh, you opened the door without confirmation and you saw your son sitting at his desk with his headphones on. Sensing that something had changed, he took off his headset and turned to you. He sat up with furrowed eyebrows, shocked that you would enter without his permission. "Mom!" He slipped off his headphones to rest on his neck.

"Asah, why haven't you done the dishes?" You asked as you folded your arms confused, ignoring his offended look.

He ignored your question as he paused the game he was busy playing. "Mom, what the hell! You can't just enter my room like that!"

You tilted your head to the side as you looked at him. "I can and I will. Now can you please get off of your PC and go do the dishes."

He rolled his eyes. "Please, mom, you can do the dishes." You stated as he turned back to look at his monitor.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's your chore, young man. It isn't mine." You reminded him, however Asahi ignored you as he slipped on his headset.

"Sorry guys, my mom's just being annoying." He stated deadpan with you still in the room.

You paused. You weren't sure whatever the hell was wrong with him but you wouldn't just stand there and take it. You walked over to the power switch, and flipped it to switch everything off. Immediate his screen went black, his green eyes widened in surprise before his head whipped to look at you. You stood with a serious expression as you stood back up straight.

He opened his arms out in shock and offense. "Mom what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Don't you swear at me!" You shouted back at him, deciding that maybe raising your voice wouldn't be a bad idea. "I am talking to you and you're not listening to me! I told you to go and was the dishes. Recently, you haven't been listening to me and I'm sick and tired of it." You told him.

"Mom, get out of my room."

"What?"

"I said," He stood up as he pointed a finger to the open door. "Get out of my fucking room! Jesus Christ, just let me breathe!" He shouted at you. You barely got to understand what was going on when you were being shoved out of his room. You felt his hands push you out. Next thing you know you just barely caught yourself out of his room before the door was slammed right after you. You heard the door lock, keeping you out.

You kept a hand to the wall as you tried to process what just happened.

"Mom?" Hero stood in the hallway with a concerned look on his face. He held a rugby ball in his hands as he looked between the door and you. He put down the ball and walked over to you. He took you by your arm as he helped you to stand straight and away from the wall. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You weren't sure how to answer him but you gave him a forced smile. "It's okay, honey. Thank you for helping me" You told him with a kiss to his forehead, pushing back his green curls. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows worried. "I just need to call your father for something. Do you mind doing the dishes for me?"

He shook his head with a smile. "Nope." He turned to head back downstairs. With a flick of his fingers, the rugby ball he was previously holding, floated back up to him and into his hands. He went back down the stairs.

You didn't move for a second but then you turned and you went into your room, closing the door behind you. You took out your phone and called Izuku.

"Hey, my love! You know, I don't know what new recipe you used for this muffin but it tastes spectacular!" He told you from the otherside of the line, you could hear him munching on the otherside which made you smile. "What's up?"

You opened your mouth to speak but suddenly you didn't have the words. You felt your throat close up and suddenly you couldn't speak. You felt tears burn at your eyes as you leaned against the wall closing your eyes. "Izuku..." It was all you could let out.

"What's wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?" The change in tone was instantaneous and serious.

You shook your head but you knew he couldn't see you. "Izuku, I can't do this anymore." You whispered softly. "I don't know what I did wrong or why he suddenly hates me." You let the tears fall as you put a hand to your head.

"Who?"

"Asahi." You revealed to him.

You tried calming yourself down, taking deep breaths as to regulate your breathing. "Honey, just breathe for me. I want you to breathe and tell me what happened? Is he giving you a rough time again?"

You let out a shaky breath but then you told him everything he needed to know. You told him how Asahi had been behaving towards you and what he said to you today as well. You tried telling him without bursting into tears, but it was difficult, but Izuku listened. he listened until you were done with your story. He stayed silent the entire time.

You let out a small hiccup as you moved a hand to your face. "Hero is doing the dishes but... Izuku I don't know what to do."

Your husband didn't respond immediately, the line being silent. "Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I'm coming home. Stay there."

Without any other word for debate, Izuku put down the phone.

You had washed your face and effectively calmed down by the time that Izuku had come back. Koda was now in your room, having wanted to take a nap with you in your room, which had him and you snuggled up in bed together, his head on your lap as you were on the cusp of tired sleep.

The door to your bedroom, opened which revealed your husband who walked through the door with his workbag on his shoulder. He dropped his bag on the floor and walked over to you.

"Izuku." You let out softly. "You didn't have to cut your day short."

He walked over to your side of the bed, moving to put his hand to your face, his large hand was gentle as he cupped your cheek. "I did." He told you honestly. He looked over your face. "Are you hurt? Are you alright?"

You put your hand over his own with a gentle smile. "I'm fine." You informed him.

"Good." With that, you saw your husband's face harden as he moved back out of the room.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you carefully put Koda's head off of your lap and moved him into your arms. You carried him out of your room, figuring that you and Izuku might need to talk later, so you moved him to nap in his room, before following after Izuku. You closed the door so that he wouldn't be disturbed. Izuku moved to open Asahi's door but noticed it was locked. He frowned.

There had been a rule in your house on no locked doors that wasn't the master bedroom or the front door. Clearly that rule had been broken.

Izuku gripped the door handle again and it didn't take much effort with just a slight shock of power of One for All, that he broke the lock and opened the door, pushing in like it was nothing.

Asahi took off his headphones, but his eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of his father. Knowing that today was a long day and one that Izuku would typically be back in the evening. But then he noticed that his father was actually in his room and the lock wasn't still on. "Dad? What are you-"

"What did you say to your mother?"

"What?"

"Do not say 'what' to me. You heard me." You stayed out of the conversation between the both of them but you stayed by the door not wanting to come in. Izuku stood with his hands resting on his hips. Asahi was silent as he stared up at his dad. Izuku tilted his head. "Hm? You can disrespect your mother and shout at her but you can't talk to me? Talk to me like you talked to your mother." He motioned back to you. Asahi remained silent. Izuku frowned, green eyes dark and nothing but disapproval on his face. "Did you, or did you not talk back to my wife when she told you to do the dishes? I want an answer."

"I..." Asahi felt a ball in his throat as he looked down away from Izuku. "I did."

"Who are you talking to?"

He hesitated. "You, dad."

"And how do you address me?" He asked with a borderline scowl. Asahi kept his head down, not looking up at him. Izuku wasn't even shouting and yet you could feel the tension in the room.

"Sorry, sir."

Izuku let out a huff, satisfied with that answer. "Did you raise your voice at my wife?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you curse at my wife?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you slam the door on my wife? Did you lay a hand on my wife?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Izuku let out an amused cynical chuckle. "Are you?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Because you didn't seem sorry when you did it. Let me remind you, of something, Asahi..." Izuku bent down to look at his son dead in the eye. He pointed back to you. "Before she is your mother, she is my wife. This is our house and you are going to respect that and you are going to respect her. If she tells you to do something, you do it. I don't want excuses or back chat, or anything coming out of you. She brought you into this world and she deserves your respect. Do you understand me?"

Asahi nodded his head as he looked away from his father, with a frown. "Yes, sir."

Izuku stood back up straight as he moved his hands to his hips. "Now where on earth did you get such an attitude from, because you sure as hell did not get it from me, nor did you get it from this family either. So where did you get it from?"

Asahi shrugged but kept quiet. He swallowed down not saying a word.

Izuku didn't like that. "You really don't know?" He didn't receive a response back. Izuku sighed as he nodded his head. "Okay."

Your husband moved from his spot as he reached over to unplug his computer from the wall. Asahi's eyes went wide as he stood up from his chair. "What are you doing?"

"You're being punished." Izuku said simply. Lifting up the PC, like it weighed nothing, picking it up off the table.

"Dad! That's not-" Asahi stopped talking as his father gave him a look that quickly shut him up.

Izuku paused as he looked at his son. "Not fair? Shouting at your mother in her own house is not fair." He turned and put the PC outside of Asahi's room before dusting his hands and looking back to your fourteen year old son.

"But my friends talk like that all the time." He reasoned.

Bingo.

Izuku tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Well you need new friends, Asahi because that isn't the way we talk to adults, nevertheless the ones that are the reason for your existence. What does it matter what your friends think?"

Asahi frowned, clearly angry with what his father had said. "Dad, you don't know what it's like to be in school! I'm the youngest one in my class and I'm quirkless!" He put his hand to his chest. "I'm not like Toshinori that can just be like you and have an amazing quirk and have friends! You don't know what it's like to be quirkless!"

"I do know what it's like!" Your husband expressed, with urgency. Seeing a piece of his young middle school self in his son. "I know what it's like to be bullied and rejected for being different, but I never disrespected my parents because of it."

"How would you know? You don't know how it feels to have you as a dad! You don't know how it feels like to have a dad at all!" The moment the words flew out of his mouth, he instantly regretted it.

Your face fell in shock, as you quickly put a hand over your mouth in shock. Izuku didn't move, but his face fell of all emotion. Not a hint of sympathy, empathy or even anger. He was emotionless.

You quickly entered the room and you put a hand to Izuku's arm. You took his hand in your own as you tugged him backwards, towards the door. "He didn't mean it." You told him softly. However, your husband didn't look at you, as he looked at Asahi.

Asahi hesitated. "Dad-"

Izuku raised a finger, indicating that he didn't want to hear it. A shaky breath left your husband and you moved to hold onto his arm. Izuku closed his eyes but moved to pull you into his side, moving to have you pushed into his side as he took a moment.

Izuku took a few seconds, before finally giving a response. "Pack your bags." He spoke void of emotions. Asahi's face fell in fear. "You're going to stay with your grandma this weekend. I... I am not angry with you, I am just deeply disappointed in you. I think we all need time to think and re-evaluate this conversation and to be away. Just for the weekend." Leaving nothing more to the conversation, your husband turned and went out of the room.

Nothing was said for a moment as you both watched Izuku leave. You turned back to look at your son, not entirely sure what to say yourself.

Asahi looked to you. "Mom... Mom you've got to-" Asahi stepped towards you but froze. He watched you step a step back in caution, almost as if you were afraid he was going to push you again. You didn't think to do it. It was an automatic response. However, Asahi saw it. You had never stepped away from him before. Tears brimmed at his eyes. "Mom..."

You let out a breath, not sure how to tackle this. You swallowed down hard and turned to leave the room. "Just please, pack your bags for the weekend. I'm sure your grandma would be glad to have you. Just..." You hesitated. "Just be nice to her. You know how gentle she is. I'll be back to help you pack." You moved to follow after Izuku.

Your husband was back in your shared bedroom. You closed the door behind you as you turned to look at him, his hands covered his face as he sat there, motionless. Your own eyebrows furrowed but you walked towards him. You moved to thread your hands through his hair, standing between his legs.

At the feeling of your embrace. He moved to wrap his arms around you, burying is face by your stomach. You heard stuttering breaths. He held onto you tightly, almost as if you would disappear. You were both silent as you existed together for a moment. You carefully crawled into his lap, allowing him to move so that he could bury his face in your neck as he held you in his arms.

You placed a kiss to his neck as you pulled a hand through his hair. "You made a good decision." You told him softly.

Izuku was silent for a second. "I hate what he said."

"I know."

"I was so fucking angry. Y/N, I could have-"

"I know." You nodded your head with a soft whisper. You rubbed his back. "But you didn't. That's what makes you a good man, and a good father too." You reminded him.

He nodded his head with a stuttered breath but you held him. Suddenly you felt soft gentle kisses to your neck.

You paused. "Izuku..."

"Please." He whispered softly. "I don't want to think right now." He confessed. You felt one hand snake underneath your shirt as he crawled up your back. "Please..." He asked.

You couldn't deny that it was tempting and you couldn't deny it yourself. You sighed and nodded. "Okay." You allowed it, moving his face up to look at you, eyes red with tears. He kissed you and you kissed him back.

-Glitch1d

[Midoriya Izuku Masterlist]

#izuku midoriya x reader #mha x y/n #izuku x reader #dilf mha #dilf izuku midoriya #dilf deku #dilf midoriya #dilf izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha #mha #Midoriya Family Shenanigans

[lovesphases]

Could you write something where reader is best friends with Sarah and has had a crush on rafe for a long time. There’s some situation like going on vacation with the Cameron family and John b joins so the reader has to share a bed with rafe. He wakes up at night bc reader is having a wet dream, cuddled up next to/on him, grinding against his thigh. He gets really turned on and starts touching her & she wakes up. Maybe he teases her a bit like asking if she had a good dream, pointing out how wet she got his thigh and then they have sex. Reader is a bit embarrassed and shy about it. - 🧚🏻‍♂️

i love the way your brain works. also sorry i got a bit carried away. pt 2!

MDNI 18+

going on a yearly vacation with the cameron’s is not something new to you. you’d always share a room with sarah, staying up late the room filled with your giggles and hushed whispers. this time would be different though. sarah’s new boyfriend, john b would be tagging along. the new addition causing sleeping arrangements to be changed.

“what do you mean i have to share a room with rafe?” you stare at sarah, eyes nearly popping out of your head.

“it’ll be fine. rafe can just sleep on the floor!”

“no fucking way! i’m not sleeping in the same room as him!”

“pleaseeee? for me?” she clasps her hands together, giving you that look that makes you crumble everytime.

“jesus christ. fine. just this once. you owe me though.” you huff out. she lets out a loud squeal

“ohmygosh thank you so much! i definitely owe you big time!” you roll your eyes.

“yeah whatever. you’re lucky i love you.”

"i am not sleeping on the fucking floor" rafe snaps at you. irritated with the situation and ready to go to bed.

"fine i'll go find somewhere else to sleep then." you huff out crossing your arms. you begin to head towards the door when rafe calls out.

"jesus kid. this bed is big enough for the both of us to sleep and keep a good distance away from each other. what do you think m' gonna do?"

"i dunno. maybe suffocate me in my sleep or something." he lets out a laugh, he can't help but find your dramatics funny.

"just get in the fucking bed"

"fine. but keep your hands to yourself. i swear to god" you poke at him

"got it." he raises his hands in defense.

its 3 am when rafe wakes up to you practically laying on top of him, grinding on his thigh. he rubs his eyes, making sure he's awake and that this is really happening. you let out a quiet whimper as your brows furrow together. he stares down at you, a smirk forming on his face.

he allows his fingers to find your core, softly grazing over your cunt. he can feel the fabric that does little to cover you slowly becoming soaked. this pushes him over the edge as he moves ur panties to the side, slowly dragging his fingers through your folds catching on your clit. you let out a moan as your eyes begin to flutter open.

"rafe? what are you doing?"

"what am i doing? you were the one who woke me up, humping my leg like a bitch in heat. you're a cock hungry whore even when you're asleep.” you let out another moan, his fingers still rubbing at your clit.

"if you don't want this then tell me to stop." your hips begin to buck up involuntary. heat rises to your cheeks, thanking god that its dark and he can't see just how embarrassed you are. but with the pressure he's applying to your needy clit all rational thoughts leave your brain. your senses completely filled with rafe.

"rafe. please just fuck me. need it so bad." you let out a desperate whine, his teasing increasing your arousal, though still not enough.

"yeah that's what i thought." he shoves two thick fingers inside of you without any warning. causing you to take a sharp breath in. his fingers massage that spongy part that makes your head fuzzy and your eyes roll back. the band in your tummy tightening with each stroke of his fingers.

"you gonna cum?" you nod your head vigorously as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

"yeah? what happened to you wanting me to keep my hands to myself? over here makin' a mess all over my fingers."

"please rafe im so close. can i please cum? i need it" tears gather at your waterline. the burning in your stomach almost too much to handle.

"fuck. go ahead. cum for me baby. make a fucking mess." his words cause the band to snap, your orgasm washing over you soaking his hand and the sheets.

"good girl. that's it. let me have it." he helps you ride out your high before pulling his fingers out of your cunt. he brings his fingers to your mouth.

"gotta clean up the mess you made. yeah?"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron prompt #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #⋆.˚ asks ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part seven

“you flower, you feast”

A/N: okay, okay so this chapter took WAY longer than planned, but between my birthday traveling and work just being poop, I didn’t have any motivation. Well, the inspo hit, and it hit HARD 🤭 I’m so unbelievably happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you all enjoy it! 💘

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: what happens when Joel and Tommy Miller eat chicken wings in front of you, baby love? You start picturing yourself as that chicken wing, being split open, meat sucked clean from the bone—

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader x pornstar!tommy

Warnings: smut, consent, fluff, relationship security, established relationship, fingering, oral (f! And m! receiving) face riding, bush love! , f!masturbation, sexual tension, cock dumb, pussy drunk vibes, teasing, filth, praise kink, daddy kink go brrrrp, threesome (Joel and Tommy do NOT touch. Please don’t be weird 😭) pussy pronouns, sharing is caring, Joel’s dom side comes out to play, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader, Joel and Tommy are pornstars, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical desertions such as skin tone, height etc. NSFW, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Joel & baby love by @kenobiwanx

“Baby love, Tommy and I are gonna go run out and grab the food, okay? Probably gonna be 30 minutes tops.” Joel said from the kitchen where he was grabbing the keys to his truck.

“Sounds good!” You chirped from the living room, deep in an erotica novel that one of your followers had recommended to you. The main character was just about to get fucked into a new dimension by her boyfriend and his hot brother— “Artemis!” You giggled, scolding her softly when she jumped right onto the page you were reading and swatted playfully at the paper.

You heard Joel’s approaching footsteps alongside the couch when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips and then one to the top of Artemis’s head as you looked up at him, “think we’re gonna stop and get a case of beer as well. I’ll text ya when we’re on the way back, ‘Kay?”

You reached your hand up, curling it around his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Christ. Y’all really need to get a room.” Tommy snickered from the entryway, broad arms crossed over his chest.

Joel grinned against your lips, kissing you one last time before he reluctantly pulled away. “Shut your trap, Tommy.” He said playfully and gave Artemis a quick pet behind her ears.

“Fuck off, you twathead.” Tommy quipped back.

Joel gave him the finger and tossed the keys in his direction, “jus’ for that, your ass is driving!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He caught the keys, twirling the ring between his fingers, “be back in a jiffy, baby love!” Tommy singsonged.

You swore you heard Joel mutter under his breath, “hey, only I can call her baby love.”

You listened to the front door swing shut, and Joel and Tommy’s usual banter before Joel’s truck peeled down the driveway. You set the book down on the coffee table with the page you left off on dog eared and carefully picked up Artemis and placed her on the spot you were just sitting on with the blanket. Now that you had a bit of time to kill…what better way to spend it than getting yourself off.

Before Tommy had come over, you and Joel discussed the prospect of the three of you filming a threeway scene. Joel left everything up to you and how you wanted it to play out. You ultimately decided that you didn’t want to plan for it, and would rather have the moment be completely based on spontaneity. So, while you used one of your favorite vibrators, gifted by Joel of course, you picked one of your favorite MMF videos on the Miller-Co website to get off to. It was one of Joel and Tommy’s first videos that they filmed after leaving Brazzers. You immediately recognized the familiar couch in Joel’s garage while you settled back against the pillows of your shared bed, thighs spread, arousal and slick already pooling between your folds.

When 30 minutes came and went, Joel texted you saying that the food was taking longer than expected and that the restaurant was super busy. Usually you would respond almost immediately, but 10 minutes had gone by and you hadn’t responded to his message.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips as he typed out, you there, baby love?

No response.

“I bet she’s playin’ with her pussy right now an’ that’s why she ain’t responding. Naughty girl.” Tommy tsked under his breath as he peeked over at Joel’s phone from the drivers seat.

“Mmm…that’s exactly what she’s doin’ right now. She was reading’ some erotica book right before we left. Didn’t get a look at the page, but m’sure it was juicy.” Joel responded, sinking further against the passenger seat.

“Fuck. We gonna play with her a bit when we get back?” Tommy tapped his knuckles along the steering wheel, glancing down at time on the dashboard.

“Oh, we will be. S’what my baby love wants. She’s thirstin’ for both of us, Tommy.”

“Goddamn. Is she really? This food better hurry the fuck up then. Gonna start gettin’ impatient jus’ thinkin’ about—hey!” He let out a surprised grunt when Joel had whacked him on the side of the head.

“Patience, you horndog.” Joel scolded him.

“Call her. See if she picks up. Wanna know if my theory was right.”

“What?”

“Y’heard me. Call ‘er up. See if she answers.” Tommy reiteratedeagerly.

“Fine, fine, but she ain’t gonna answer.” Joel knew you better than that and if you were on the brink of an orgasm, you sure as fuck weren’t going to answer your phone. He dialed your number anyway, and it rang three times before going to voicemail. “Told ya. She’s too busy playin’ with herself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy scoffed.

You were on the edge of having a mind numbing, toe curling orgasm when you heard the familiar roll of Joel’s truck tires in the driveway and as soon as your mindset switched, your orgasm was delayed and frustration began to settle deep into your bones as you cursed under your breath, clicking the button on the vibrator off and tossed it to the side of the bed with a huff.

“I was this fucking close.” You grumbled to yourself, taking a moment to catch your breath when you heard the front door open.

“Baby love, food’s here!” Joel’s voice traveled from downstairs and straight up to your pulsing core. “Where ya at, pretty girl?”

Did he know what you were just doing? He couldn’t have—right?

“Coming!” You responded back, your voice wavering when you thought about the possibility of him coming upstairs and catching you like this.

Joel and Tommy exchanged a knowing look as they set the bag of food down on the kitchen table. “Take your time, sweetheart! Ain’t no reason to rush!” Tommy said with a smirk tugging on his lips.

You threw on your flimsy tank top over your head and pulled your cotton shorts over your trembling thighs with your lower lip caught between your teeth. You checked your appearance in the mirror, looking a little disheveled with a noticeable sheen of sweat coating your neck and chest. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, as you grabbed your phone from the bedside.

Joel was waiting for you at the foot of the stairs and once you were at arm's length, his strong biceps wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his warm embrace. He kissed you sweetly, one hand dropping down to grab a handful of your ass in his palm. You nearly moaned into his mouth, managing to hold it back. When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flickered southwards, zoning in on the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin and the edges of his lips curved upwards. “Sorry for the delay, baby love. The wait was longer than we anticipated.” He rasped softly.

Between his calloused palm groping your ass, and his lingering stare, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your pussy was chanting: Yes, Joel! Right here. Take us right here. Right now. Against the staircase! C’mon, big boy.

“Baby, why are you looking at me like…you wanna eat me right now?” You whispered softly to him, letting your hand curve around his bicep.

“Like I wanna eat you right now?” He mused, “Baby love, I always wanna eat you up.” He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Lemme watch f’you guys are gonna fuck against the staircase.” Tommy snickered from the kitchen table where he had already plated out his food and cracked open a beer, taking a swig from the bottle, his eyebrows raising in a mischievous manner.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from Tommy’s crude comment as images of Joel bending you over the railing and fucking you from behind while Tommy watched flooded your mind.

“Cat got your tongue, baby love?” Joel murmured, smirk still playing on his lips.

“No.” You shook your head, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m just starving.”

You were a fool to think that your temptations would dissipate as you and Joel sat down at the kitchen table across from Tommy. If anything, they were heightened when you were forced to watch both brothers demolish their chicken wings, sucking the meat right off the bone effortlessly.

They’re doing this on purpose. They have to be, right?

The longer you watched the two brothers ravenously eating their chicken wings, the damper the fabric of your cotton shorts grew. The blooming wet patch was evident, and your mouth was parched when you watched Joel suck the meat from the chicken wing bone clean off again. He twisted and split the delicate wing bones right down the middle, hollowing his cheeks slightly as he sucked the meat clean from the bone, making an obscene slurping noise in the process. He paid no mind to the figurative daggers you were sending him when he used his thumb to wipe a stray dribble of sauce from the corner of his lips and sucked it right into his mouth. The way he devoured those wings immediately made you think of the way he would mold and press you open at his leisure, mouth and tongue sloppy on your cunt, eating you like you were quite literally his last meal on earth.

“Can you guys…stop eating like that?”

“Pardon?” Tommy looked directly across the table at you, plucking the meat clean from the bone, brow raised in amusement.

“Like…that.” You reiterated and subtly squeezed your thighs together beneath the table.

“Sorry, baby love. You’re gonna have to explain what you mean by that.” Joel chimed in alongside you, taking a swig of his beer.

Your nostrils flared and your knuckles clenched tightly around either side of your chair. They absolutely were toying with you on purpose, and you were just waiting for the chord to be pulled so tight, that it would inevitably snap from the pressure.

“You feelin’ alright over there, sweetheart? Can see the sweat drippin’ off ya from here.” Tommy commented with a sly grin. “Somethin’ wrong with the way Joel and I are eating our wings?”

Yeah, well, there’s more than just sweat dripping off of me,Tommy- is what you really wanted to say.

“Feeling just peachy, Tommy. Nothing wrong with the way you guys are eating your wings.” You lied through your teeth.

“Hmmm.” Joel hummed alongside you and his freehand creeped towards your thigh, fingers flexing and you could feel his phantom touch before he even made contact with your hot skin. “Sure you ain’t…feelin’ a little frustrated, baby love?”

Oh fuck. He knows. He knows

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ for emphasis, but neither Joel or Tommy were convinced at your attempted bluff.

“You sure about that, baby love? S’okay if you are.” He leaned in, hot breath fanning your face when you felt his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs, coaxing them open. “Were you touching yourself while we were gone, baby love? Hmm?”

Busted.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, and your thighs clench from his words. You didn’t want this little game to end so soon, you were determined to build up the anticipation even further. “No, baby.” You shook your head, “I wasn’t touching myself while you and Tommy were gone.”

Tommy’s interest in the conversation was immediately piqued when you were quick to deny Joel’s accusations, and he reminded you of a predator stalking its prey in the tall grass from the way he was looking at you.

“No?” Joel pouts, tsking under his breath as he continues his ministrations. “How wet do you think she is right now, Tommy? On a scale from 1-10.” He briefly looks across the table before you feel his eyes searing into the side of your head once more.

“10, easy. She’s practically squirmin’ in her seat right now, and you haven’t even started to touch her yet.” Tommy rasped with a chuckle, leaning back against the seat of the chair. “Bet she’s so wet that there’s a damp spot right through the fabric.” He mused.

“How do you feel about his answer, baby love? Think you’re that wet right now? Think I should…have a look for myself? What do ya think I’m gonna find beneath these ‘lil cotton shorts of yours, naughty girl?”

Fuuck.

Your eyes lingered on Joel’s face, and then over to Tommy as you harshly took your lower lip between your teeth, spreading your thighs further so he had easier access to feel the heat of your core through the thin, strained fabric. “I—I think that’s accurate, baby.” You let out a huff of air through your nose, heat steadily rising up your cheeks. “You know exactly what you’re gonna find under my shorts, Joel. How about we just…skip the theatrics, and you take them off so Tommy can get a good view of my wet little pussy?”

He chuckled, leaning over the short distance between your chair and his, nudging his nose against your jaw, nipping at your skin, a growl edging up his throat, “Yeah? That’s what you want me to do, sweet girl? You wanna show my brother jus’ how fuckin’ wet you are right now? He’d love that, baby love…” he trailed off, thinking of what he was going to say next, “can’t do that m’fraid.” His lips curved downwards in a plush pout.

“Why the hell not?” You whined, feeling your frustrations begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Gotta clean my hands first, baby love.” He snickered, fully planning on grabbing the nearest napkin to wipe the wings sauce from his fingers. Instead, you took matters into your own hands, er—mouth, and grabbed his hand, swiftly yanking it towards your mouth. He watched with hooded eyes when you wasted no time to suck his thick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around each one, licking them clean, eyes locked in an intense stare with him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Tommy let out a groan from where he was sitting, unable to tear his eyes away from your pretty lips working around Joel’s fingers. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ survive this night.” He said out loud, fully intending to keep that thought to himself.

“Jus’ wait till you feel her mouth around your cock, brother. You’ll never be able to look at head the same way again after she—fuck.” He hissed between his teeth when he felt your teeth lightly drag across the underside of his fingers.

“Oh, I believe it, but m’gonna combust o’here if I don’t get a taste of her sweet fuckin’ pussy, I swear to god—”

“Yeah, and I’m going to kill both of you if someone doesn’t fucking start touching me in the next five seconds.” You mumbled around Joel’s fingers, slowly slipping them from your mouth and guided them between your thighs. “Please.” You added sweetly.

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me that you didn’t fuckin’ eat her out in your truck? Goddammit, Tommy. Who the hell raised ya, huh?” Joel tsked under his breath and with his fingers now freshly soaked in your saliva, he pressed them firmly against your covered clit. “Her pussy is the neediest lil’ thing, and you missed the fuck out.”

You pressed your hips directly against Joel’s fingers, desperate for more stimulation than he was already providing you, and even when his fingers began to slowly circle your clit in a figure eight motion, that still wasn’t enough.

“Well, I got the perfect opportunity to make it up to her, don’t I? Ain’t no time like the present!” Tommy chuckled, wiping his hands off on a napkin before he slowly sank to his knees under the table, crawling on all fours till he found himself right between your thighs, peering up at you through onyx black, thick curls that were momentarily obstructing his view. “Cus’ the way that I see it? There’s never not an ideal time to eat pussy.” He mused, shooting you a playful and suggestive wink while his big hands creeped up the expanse of your thighs and grasped the hem of your shorts.

Joel looked over at you expectantly, admiring your side profile and the way that your tongue darted out to lick your lips, pupils dilating, flickering down to Tommy’s smirking expression between your spread thighs.

“How’s that sound to you, baby love? Hmm? You want Tommy to eat your pretty little pussy out under the table? I think he wants it really, really, bad, baby.” He chuckled warmly against the shell of your ear, pausing the ministrations of his fingers just as a low whine escaped your throat at the loss of contact.

Instead of taking the route of verbally responding, you let your desire and frustration take the wheel front and center. You reached for the back of Tommy’s head, carding your fingers through his lustrous curls and yanked his face directly against your covered, pulsing cunt. Joel’s fingers moved in tandem, sliding up the curve of your body, his big veiny hand came to rest along the base of your throat, thick fingers splayed out around your neck like a necklace.

“Oh,” he cooed, “my baby wants it really, really, bad, huh?”

“Course I fucking do. The two of you have riled me up since the second you got back with the food.” You stated the obvious tension growing between the three of you.

Your eyes met his sultry gaze, narrowing into slits when he leaned in for a chaste kiss, lips brushing, fingers flexing against the thin, delicate skin of your throat. He licks into your mouth, stealing the very breath from your lungs just as Tommy greedily sucked on the damp patch of fabric, drawing the flat side of his tongue through it, groaning, hands pressing you open further, broad nose bumping against your covered clit.

“Yeah, she fuckin’ wants it. Been drippin’ this whole fuckin’ time.” Tommy mumbled between your thighs, his saliva and hot breath causing the wet patch through the fabric to bloom more. “Can I fuckin’ take these off of ya baby, please? Need to get a full look at her. Bet she’s so fuckin’ puffy n’sensitve right now.” He rasped, sucking inwards, nipping playfully at the fabric that obstructed him from seeing all of you.

Between Joel’s head spinning kisses, and his underlying possessive nature of what was his, you broke from the kiss momentarily. “Please fucking take them off, Tommy.” Words breathless, diving back into his eager awaiting mouth. You never got tired of the way that Joel Miller kissed you. It was like that of an art form, an erotic dance that would send even the most stoic faces feeling flustered just from the sight of the two of you.

His eyes peeled open briefly to steal a glance of your now bare pussy, to see your little hole pulse, drooling a trail of pearlescent slick along the wooden chair that sent both men’s cocks twitching, awakening like two feral street mutts that were just given a plated, rare steak on a silver platter; you being the steak.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” The Miller brothers murmured in unison as if they were in a trance from that pulsing spot between your thighs. You never felt more turned on in your life than in this moment under their adoration filled gazes.

Joel stole your attention once more kissing you with more ferocity when your freehand reached across the chair, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his loose shorts. His hips shifted against your palm, rolling in a languid movement in comparison to his lips on yours. He groaned freely into your mouth, wet hot breath gliding across your tastebuds, the girth of his cock growing heavier, and heavier.

Tommy spread you open further with his pointer and middle finger. He marveled at how wet you truly were, getting an up close look at just how puffy the soft lips of your pussy were getting. He wolf whistled, inhaling the scent of your arousal before he spat a thick glob of saliva right over your clit, rubbing it in with your growing slick. “Fuckin’ Christ. Wettest lil’ pussy i’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

A strained moan escaped past your interlocked lips when Tommy began to lap between your folds, jaw slack, eyes shut in pure bliss at the tangy, yet sweet taste of you on his tongue. He groaned deeply against your mound, licking from the entrance of your weeping hole all the way up to your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue in a figure eight motion, nose buried against the soft patch of curls that Joel would often lightly pet and play with. Joel loved the fact that you made the personal choice to not shave your pubic hair. (He’d love you just the same if you did, of course)

Joel’s breaths came out as soft pants against your locked lips, his kisses became more desperate when the head of his cock drooled a bead of precum through the slit, staining a wet patch through the front of his shorts. He was fully hard beneath your touch, tenting against the fabric.

“Move your chair closer to me, baby.” You mumbled against his lips, teeth lightly nipping at his lower lip eliciting a low rasp from deep within his throat to emerge, sending a warm tingle straight down to your pulsing core.

And while Tommy was off in his own little pussy drunk world, switching from focusing the movements of his tongue against your clit, to dragging it southwards, curling it inside of your weeping little hole, lapping up your sweet nectar as if he was a bee on a freshly bloomed flower. Joel wordlessly scooted his chair closer to yours, lips breaking from the kiss momentarily and when he moved his head to kiss you once more, you leaned over the side of your chair completely, eagerly dropping your face down to his spread thighs. A layer of his natural musk seeped in through your nose as you dragged your nose against the outline of his cock, listening to the sound of his breath hitching in his throat when you pressed open mouthed, hungry, wet kisses against the strained fabric.

You moaned wantonly when two of Tommy’s thick fingers slowly pressed into your tight opening, gradually sinking deeper till your walls had sucked his fingers all the way down to his knuckles.

“Oh, fuck me.” You heard Tommy mutter with a mouthful of pussy, “So fuckin’ tight, it’s unbelievable.” He shallowly began to pump his fingers, curling them against that soft spongy spot deep inside of you that had your eyes rolling back into your skull. Your hips rolled into his face, feeling the scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. Your lips moved in a frantic motion, sucking, kissing Joel’s cock through the fabric. All it took was for your eyes to flicker upwards towards his face, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering for him to give in.

“Jesus, baby.” Joel breathed out, nostrils flaring, the veins in his broad neck protruding through the skin, “ok, ok, I’ll take it out for you, my eager girl.” He hummed appreciatively, lips curving upwards into a boyish grin as he reached his hand down beneath the band of his shorts, grasping the base of his cock in his fist and finally freed himself from the confines. His cock sprang up against his stomach, and you wasted no time to drag your tongue from the base all the way up the soft, velvety skin of his girth till you reached the crown of his cock and enveloped the engorged, mushroom head around your lips, swirling your tongue across his slit to collect the bead of precum, swallowing down the taste of him greedily.

He let out a soft grunt, head tilting back slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth as he relaxed further into the chair. He kept one hand firmly grasped around the base of his cock, holding himself steady just for you. While his other hand rested against the crown of your head, gently petting your hair while a tumble of praises slipped past his lips, “Fuuck, baby love. That feels s’good.” He rasped.

You preened at your man’s praise, focusing all of your attention on the head of his cock, placing your hand on top of his, slowly guiding his fist to pump and twist around the girth of him. And when you felt that coil deep within your tummy being pulled tight, and glowing red hot due to Tommy’s ministrations, you eased your mouth off of Joel, little mewls and pants slipping past your lips as you briefly looked over to see Tommy slowly begin to press a third finger alongside the two that were deliciously working inside of you. “Fuck,” you moaned, focusing your attention back on Joel, and lovingly slapped your tongue with the head of his cock, and then your cheek, gazing up at him with those big eyes of yours, entrancing him further.

Joel loved when you gave him the sloppiest head imaginable, when your drool would run down your chin and neck, mouth and throat stuffed with his cock, pretty tears springing along your waterline because he was so fucking thick. But the sight before him now could have easily sent him to an early grave. He watched you lovingly slap your cheek with the head of his cock, blissed out, smiling from ear to ear, and he wished he had his phone right now just so he could take a picture and show you how pretty you looked like this.

“You gonna come all over his fuckin’ fingers, baby love? Get ‘em all nice and creamy? Your pussy sounds so so pretty. Gettin’ her nice and ready for our cocks, hmm?” He cooed, voice dropping down an octave as his eyes flitted downwards between your thighs, listening to the delicious squelch of Tommy’s fingers fucking you open.

“Fuck yeah she is.” Tommy chimed in, pulling his face back, his chin and beard coated in your slick. He watched the way your pussy continued to hug and drag his fingers in further with each shallow thrust. “Pretty lil’ slutty pussy fuckin’ loves havin’ three fingers shoved inside of her. Ain’t that right, babygirl? God, you should see how fuckin’ pretty n’ puffy she is right now.” He rasped, pussy drunk, cock heavy between his thighs and harder than a slab of concrete. “Let’s see how soaked you can get my fingers sugar, and then you’re gonna watch, mouth stuffed with my brothers cock while I fuckin’ suck them clean.”

“Shit.” You whimpered, rubbing Joel’s heavy cock all over your face, leaving sloppy kisses here and there, “yeah, I fucking love it so much, daddy. Feels so good! I’m so close—I’m gonna come all over your fingers, daddy.”

“Yeah you are, babygirl. You’re gonna cream all over them like the good, slutty lil’ girl that daddy knows you are.” Tommy preened, pumping his fingers faster, the muscles in his forearm flexing from the movement, lips sloppily attaching to your stimulated clit, sucking on the little bud harshly.

Joel himself wasn’t usually turned on by the prospect of being called daddy, but hearing you freely moan and come undone around his brother's fingers, and call him daddy? Well, it did something to your man and he let you know immediately how he was feeling by firmly tapping the wet head of his cock against your cheek to refocus your attention on him. “Eyes up here, pretty girl. Eyes on me. Your daddy.” He sternly rasped, lips curved in a grin, brows furrowed intently.

All time seemed to cease when Joel fucking Miller referred to himself as your daddy. Your pretty, slicked covered, glistening lips parted in shock, pupils blown wide, pussy clenching down like a vice around Tommy’s fingers. You met Joel’s stern gaze, watching the way his brow slowly arched, head mockingly tilted to the side, “Yes, daddy.” You whimpered, “I—I won’t forget.”

“Thas’ right, baby love. Keep lookin’ at your daddy with those pretty eyes. Keep ‘em on me, not him. Me.” There was an underlying possessive tone to his words and the weight they held on you. But god, you had never felt more proud of him testing out these new uncharted waters with you, playing into your kinks. You mouthed, “I love you, daddy.” Before slipping his cock right back down your throat, taking as much of him as you could till you were gagging around him, tears welling from the thick girth of his cock stretching your throat open, and your orgasm crashing through you like a freight train.

“That’s it, babygirl!” Tommy preened excitedly when your sweet pussy squeezed around his fingers, coating them in your pearlescent release. “Good fuckin’ girl. You got anymore f’me? C’mon, gimme a lil’ more of your sugar, babygirl.” His mouth made an obscene slurping sound through your folds, shaking his head back and forth while you leaked out along his fingers and down his palm. He slipped his fingers out slowly, your fucked out little hole pushing out what was left of your orgasm to which he greedily lapped it up, moaning at the taste of you.

Joel softly praised you, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, murmuring how much he loved you, gazing at you lovingly and in tandem his brain was screaming: ring, ring, ring. I need a fucking ring!

“Makin’ your daddy so proud, baby love. Did so good f’him.” He cooed, and his big palm rested around your face, slowly easing his cock from your throat and guiding you up towards his face. He kissed you sweetly, licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, cradling your face so delicately, so tenderly, you couldn’t help but moan through the kiss.

Tommy sat back along his haunches, fingers stuffed down his mouth, licking them clean not wanting any of your sweet cream to be wasted. His own cock was leaking through his shorts, desperate for any kind of touch or stimulation.

Your words fell breathlessly against Joel’s lips, fingers tangling and tugging through his soft curls, “I think your brother might have you beat, daddy.” You said half jokingly, half serious.

Joel and Tommy Miller were competitive men by nature, and whether you had meant to or not, you had just unleashed the feral, competitive beasts within them without even realizing it.

Well, as they all say,

good luck, baby love. You and your pussy are gonna need it!

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#fic: the rite of movement #chapter 7: you flower you feast #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #pornstar!joel #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller au #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel and tommy #joel miller fic #dom!joel miller #daddy!joel miller

[iluvmattsbeard]

crawlin' back to you (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: heavy smut/strong language/drinking and smoking/ rough! matt/ a little degrading/arguing.

preview: you finally found a solution to get him out of your head. after a year of what felt like a decade of screaming and fighting, you felt the weight lifted from your shoulders until you open your front door, having everything come back to bite you in the ass.

a/n: ignore if it's bad. I wrote this past midnight. - L🤍

it was a gloomy night in your apartment. you just had gotten out of the shower shivering as your feet touch the cold tile with a towel wrapped around your body. hot showers is what you needed after what happened last month.

last month is when you finally ended your one year relationship with your now ex, Matt. you loved Matt. so much it hurt leaving him more than the words that would come out of his mouth. but, the weight lifted off your shoulders knowing you can now live without the screaming and fighting.

you headed to your kitchen, where the lights were dim, and popped open a bottle of wine. that's all you could do recently. drown your thoughts out by drinking the red bitter liquid. you sat down by your window looking at the dark sky. the moon peeking through slightly. as you drank, you felt nothing.

moments later you were interrupted by a sound. you thought not much of it because you knew what type of apartment complex you were in. you didn't have a well paying job so you had to settle for less. an apartment complex with neighbors who didn't give a shit who was around.

suddenly, you heard a loud knock at your door. you turned your head towards the door wondering who could be knocking this late at night?

you got up walking towards the door as you hear another loud knock. you opened the door to a tall and lengthy man, covered in tattoos, with a cigarette in his mouth. Matt. you stayed silent as he stood there with heavy eye bags, exhaling the smoke out the side of his mouth.

"you missed me?" he says throwing the cigarette on the floor while crushing it. nothing came out of your mouth. what the fuck was he doing here? when you locked eyes, all you could think about was all the times you were screaming at each other over little things. Matt did not communicate well. his anger issues didn't help him either. you replay the night it all ended.

-FLASHBACK-

"why the fuck do you keep doing this!" Matt shouts angrily. "doing what?! saying the truth to your face?" you yelled following behind him. you guys were arguing at his place because you kept bringing up the fact he doesn't try as hard in this relationship. "you can give all your effort to everyone else but me? the fucking bare minimum?!" you shout waving your arms around showing frustration. "Jesus christ y/n. maybe because all you give me is a headache. you think about that?" he shoots back with his back still towards you. "if I give you such a headache, all the time, then why the fuck am I still here?" he lets out a laugh, "no one asked you to stay." you felt your stomach in a knot when he responded. you didn't even respond. you grabbed your stuff and stormed out of there. Matt groaned getting up chasing after you. "you're fucking ridiculous y/n. you know you'll come back." he yells out frustrated, "so don't even waste your time doing this shit." you ignored him as you got into your car. Matt then starts banging on your window. "come on!" he shouts. but you drove away. leaving him with rage.

-FLASHBACK ENDS-

even after that, he never texted or called. so why all of the sudden he shows up? who's the ridiculous one here? every night with him had both of you saying things that couldn't be said the next morning. every night, shit went down. but every morning? it was always normal. it was exhausting with him.

you snap back in the moment when you hear him speak, "let me in. it's cold out here." Matt says with a stern voice pushing past you. you turned around to look at him "I didn't say you can come in." you said. he leans back on the counter with his arms crossed looking at you up and down, "you didn't say anything at all so i took the opportunity to let myself in." he says. you scoff responding, "maybe because I have nothing to say to you Matt. you made us end up like this. you don't just show up unannounced." he chuckles speaking, "oh I made us like this? last I recall you walked out and drove away without a word." you stayed silent because you knew what he said was the truth.

he looks around as his eyes land at the wine bottle you left out, "drinking won't help get me off your mind."Matt says looking back at you. you felt a small shiver down your spine as you locked eyes. even though he had bright blue eyes, in this light, they were dark and cold. "what do you want?"you say looking away. he grins, "nothing really. just wanted to stop by." you scoffed, "to stop by? well don't waste your time. I don't want you here." he lets out a chuckle as he walks closer to you. you take a step back, backing into the front door. "you don't?" he says now standing directly in front of you. you took another gulp as you tried avoiding eye contact. he then grabs you by the chin making you look into his eyes. "because I was sort of hoping you'd let me stay." Matt continues in a low raspy voice, "use your words."

"I don't know what you want me to say." you said, not breaking eye contact. "I was hoping you would change your mind." he says while moving his other hand to your hip, slightly touching your skin. his hands were cold like always. you couldn't help but remember all of the times he's touched you. Matt gets closer to your face whispering "I know I can change your mind." "don't expect me to be crawlin' back to you after what you put me through." you say looking away.

he lets out a little laugh as he picks you up. "we'll see." he says. you wrap your arms and legs around him taken a back. as much as you meant the words that came out of your mouth, it was difficult keeping them.

as you guys get to your bedroom, he puts you down locking the door. "I won't do anything you don't want me doing." he says getting closer. your cheeks turn red as he pulls you in by your waist. "I want to know what's on your mind." he says slowly going to your neck leaving kisses. you close your eyes at the sudden movement, your mouth agape. "you." he laughs at your response. he then pushes you onto the bed. pinning your hands above your head, smashing his lips onto yours. you kiss back trying to move your hands but his grip was too strong.

Matt pulls away his lips not wasting any time reattaching them to your neck leaving marks. he then pulls up your shirt leaving you laying there with your tits out. he attaches his mouth to your left tit while playing with the other one with his free hand. you moan softly at the sudden action. you couldn’t believe it. just a moment ago you were wanting him gone. but he was irresistible. his tongue swirling around made you arch your back slightly.

he pulls away now sitting up unbuckling his belt, "give me your hands." he demands. you obey putting your hands out as he ties them together. Matt then pulls down his pants along with his boxers. a quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you see his length. you gulp at the sight. you forgot how big he was. especially because all the times you had sex with him it was always a blur. he then pulls down your pajama shorts, along with your panties. he was quick to do so. he has always been so eager. there was no doubt he practically craved you.

"you don't want me here?" he repeats the question he asks earlier touching your wet folds. you bite your lip softly from the touch of his cold fingers. "because this tells me differently." Matt then kisses you again, hungrily as he grips your neck. he knew he had you right where he wanted. he pulls away looking into your eyes, "now, be a good girl okay?" he whispers. you nod hesitantly at his choice of words. he then takes off his black leather jacket, throwing it on the floor, along with his white tank. you swallow as you stare at him. you knew he was bad for you. but why did he have to look so good?

he crawls back on top of you. he inserts into you without any warning. you let out a moan with wide eyes. Matt shooting you a look. you can tell he's been wanting this. he wastes no time by picking up the pace. you wrap your legs around him as you moan loudly each time he pounds into you. "why are you being so loud? hm? I thought I wasn't wanted here?" he says still pounding into you hitting the right spot each time. you're now rolling your eyes still moaning at how good It feels. "you should see yourself. pathetic. I know you missed this." you don't respond by the fact you can't make up any words right now. but it gets him irritated. Matt then grabs your face roughly making you closer to his face. "talk to me."

you swallow as you try to speak, "i-i missed this." he gives a slight smirk, "I know you did. you know nobody else will fuck you like this." he kisses you again with the same hungry feeling. "you fuck me so good!" you practically scream out. but all he does is kiss you again shutting you up. all the memories of the screaming and fighting subsided. you couldn’t help but give in. as much as you were angry at Matt, he sure knew how to please you. he then lifts one of your legs and puts it on his shoulder going deeper. he grabs your face and tells you to open your mouth. which you do. he spits in your mouth, “that’s right. you listen.” he says.

as he continues pounding into you, you feel the knot in your stomach build up. he was hitting every spot so good you felt your legs starting to hurt from being held up. you clench around his dick from the sensation. releasing all over him, arching your back moaning. he pulls out, “fuck you’re so beautiful.” he spits out pulling you up getting his dick close to your face, "open." he demands stroking. you open your mouth as he releases inside of it with a groan. "fuck." he mutters. you swallow every single bit.

you look at the sight in front of you. a sweaty and heavy breathing Matt. a sight you missed. he catches you staring. now smiling at you, he brings his hand up to your mouth and wipes the corner of it because of the load you just had swallowed.

he gets up putting his clothes back on. you pull the covers over your still naked body. "you're leaving?" you say with a little disappointment on your face. Matt looks at you while buckling his belt with a smirk, "you want me to stay?" you think for a bit but you responded with a nod. he lets out a laugh coming close to your face. he gives you a small kiss while bringing his mouth to your ear, "I knew you'd be crawlin' back to me." he whispers. a shiver rolls down your spine as your cheeks turn red. he got you there with that one.

a/n: again, sorry if it sucks. when I listen to this song it reminds me of matt lmao. this is my first time writing so I would appreciate the support! like, comment, reblog, or however this works! thank you! - L🤍

#Spotify #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo imagine

[bullet-prooflove]

Feminism: David Hale x Reader (Feat: Jax Teller)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Companion piece to Graffiti, Crime Wave, Distraction & Art School

Jax thinks that he was in love with you. The problem is you were bad for the club which meant you were bad for him so he cut you loose. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

Your crime?

Feminism.

You don’t like the way the club treats it’s women and you’re vocal about it, not just to him but to others too. It gets Clay’s back up which is why his President tells him to put you in your place.

“A quick slap will knock that shit right out of her.”  Clay tells him as he puffs on his cigar.

But Jax, he could never raise a hand to you so he does something worse, something  irredeemable. He offers you out to the boys, he makes it clear you’re fair game, free for a fuck. He does it because he knows you’ll never stand for it, that you’ll be out of the door as soon as you realise he’s betrayed you.

“She’s a firecracker when you get her started, pull her hair, choke her a little and she’ll be the sweetest gash you’ll ever have.”

The words taste like poison on his tongue as he looks at you over by the bar, talking to one of the croweaters. You have no idea what’s coming.

It’s Tig that takes a run at you, that puts your hand on his cock and tells you he knows exactly what you like. You almost twist his balls off before giving Jax a look of complete contempt. That’s the night he comes home to find a five foot dick spray painted across the front of his house and David Hale tucking you into the back of a cruiser because a neighbour called the cops.

“Look, don’t charge her.” He tells Hale because he knows it’s shit like this that will get you kicked out of art school and he can’t stand to be the man that shatters your dreams. “I deserved this.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Hale tells him as he jots something down in his notebook before slipping it into his pocket. “I’m just surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

He doesn’t see you again for a couple of months after that and that’s the way he likes it. He knuckles down, focuses on the club, fucks every woman that crosses his path. That’s how he learns to forget you, if he’s buried in pussy he’s not thinking about the woman who isn’t occupying his bed.

He doesn’t expect to see you on Main Street, he doesn’t expect it to be with Hale. He’s heard rumours that the Deputy Chief is seeing someone, that he’s got some prep in his step. It isn’t until now that he realises it’s you.

The two of you are outside the ice cream shop, waiting for the queue to die down. Hale’s arm is around your shoulders, his lips by your ear as he whispers something into it. You tip your head back and laugh and that sound, Christ it feels like his heart is being ripped right out of his chest.

It gets worse because there’s love there, real love. He can see it as clear as day. It’s in the way your fingertips chase along Hale’s jaw, your thumb brushing over his cheek. When you kiss him, it’s with a tenderness that the two of you never had and that’s when Jax realises that he’s fucked up. The man you’re in love with, he’s determined to bring down SAMCRO and there’s no way in hell Jax can ever let that happen.

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#david hale #david hale x reader #deputy david hale #deputy chief hale #soa #jax teller #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller x reader

[amusingmusie]

I know it's not going to happen but what do you think a child between Nel & Alastor would be like? Personality wise or appearance

History Repeats Itself

This is goddamn ridiculous.

Heels click against shiny vinyl flooring as Nel tears off down the hallway, speeding past flyers promoting honors ceremonies and painted murals of happy children. Pushing open door after door and stomping hard enough to make her knees shake, she does nothing to hide her rage over such a bullshit situation. Her fingers twitch with the need for a goddamned cigarette, but she doesn’t trust herself to not light this private school aflame with it. Oh no, she’s not chancing that, not when she’d ruin the career she fought to earn and the schooling she pays out the ass for in one fell swoop. 

Her warpath only halts when she reaches a thick wooden door simply labeled as Dean’s Office. It’s becoming increasingly familiar as of late. With a barely contained growl, she knocks the door open, steps into the room, and prepares for battle.

“She is evil!”

“That’s a strong word. I prefer the term strong-willed instead.”

“Shut it! You’re a malignant tumor on this school!!!”

“Wow, that was a good one. You’re improving your vocabulary, congratulations!”

“DEVIL!”

“You know, anything you say can be held against you in court, I’d mind your words if I were you.”

“WE ARE NOT IN COURT!!!!!”

Nel watches a teenage girl hiss and spit pure venom with all the rage of a feral creature. Her dark eyes are blazing with unfiltered fury, something Nel herself recognizes all too well. There’s no need to ask what has her raging- oh no, Nel is aware of the issue, she sure fucking knows exactly who is responsible for this mess. 

Turning on her heels, Nel stares down the little shit sitting primly in a chair by the flabbergasted dean. Not a curly hair is out of her place on her head, with each chocolate strand pinned neatly back with a stylish bow. Quickly, she gives a small pat to her immaculate bumper bang like she’s brushing away some invisible dust that could possibly disrupt her picture-perfect image. 

She’s a doll with smooth caramel skin and large hazel eyes. 

She’s adorable with pearly white teeth and freckles dotted across her cheeks. 

She’s precious with her long, poofy skirt and long, poofy hair.

She’s perfect.

Except, her mother knows better. Oh, does she ever know better. 

“Sweet Christ,” Nel sighs with something that isn’t quite disappointment, but certainly isn’t glee. Nobody has breathed a word of what events called her down to the private school, again, but she’s certain that her spawn is somehow responsible because she is always responsible when chaos occurs. “Evie. What in the hell is going on here?”

“Momma, there you are!” Bouncing out of her seat, Evie skips over to her mother without a care in the world. She doesn’t bat an eye at her classmate glaring daggers at her or the dean blinking in exasperation since she’s too busy sidling up to her revered birth-giver. “Listen, this is all a big, silly mix-up. I’m completely innocent-”

“Lies-!”

“It was Roxxy who dumped the paint on her own bag to frame me-”

“NO, I DID NOT-!”

“Because why would I ever do such a terrible thing?” Looking for backup, she moves her gaze to the dean, who simply nods his head in slight agreement. “I would never jeopardize my perfect record with the threat of a conduct mark, and for what? To upset my good friend Roxxane with a ridiculous prank?”

“We are not friends!” the other teen growls, her skin turning an intense shade of crimson from the wrath boiling in her bones.

“You’re right, we’re best friends! Thank you for reminding me,” Evie chirps, her toothy smile growing wider.

Nel swats away unfortunate flashbacks that threaten to overtake the moment. 

“Okay, kid, put a pin in it. Just, God, come on, we’re leaving, now. Go.” Once her daughter departs from the room with a final wave to her so-called friend, Nel stares at the dean. “Stop calling me for this bullshit. I pay this school too goddamn much money to run up here each time there’s an issue with these two- next time, deal with it.”

The door slams shut behind her, and she marches on. 

Leather pumps and leather oxfords click together in time down the hallway. 

“What on God’s green earth possessed you to do that?” Nel scoffs, not pausing her march to freedom for a moment. It hardly matters since her kid already has at least an inch on her, because of course she does, her legs are more than long enough to keep up with the redhead’s shorter stomps. “Dumping paint on someone’s bag? Shit, did you just forget any home training I gave you?”

“Momma!” Evie gasps in offense, her round eyes going wide. “You don’t believe in my innocence?”

“No.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Just like that, the act drops and she shrugs, clicking her shiny saddle shoes on the floor. “But I didn’t do it for fun. Well, maybe I did, but she also deserved it.”

“You cannot continue to terrorize that girl. This is the third time that there’s been an incident in the past five weeks. Every time you get yourself into a mess, I gotta hightail it up here to drag you home, and that’s time I lose with my clients, and that’s money I lose to spend on you. You think it reflects positively on me when I’m unable to run my firm because I’m wrangling my daughter?”

“I know, but-“

“Genevieve Marie Sheridan-“

“You don’t understand!”

“Then enlighten me.” 

“She’s terrible!” Uncharacteristic irritation crosses over Evie’s sharp facial features, contorting them into a disgruntled expression eerily similar to the one worn by the ginger walking next to her. “I’m telling you, I have never met someone so absolutely dull and unpleasant in all my life! Sure, I’ve only been alive for fourteen years, but I’ve had a worldly fourteen years!”

“Oh, really now?”

“Momma, forget the details! What I’m trying to explain to you is that she is awful, so I’m attempting to help her become less awful with some harmless fun.”

A familiar feeling creeps along Nel’s skin. It’s a distant feeling, one she hasn’t felt in nearly fifteen years, but it’s one she can never forget, not ever. It’ll haunt her til the day she dies, and long after that too. 

Cold realization begins to dawn on her.

“...What makes this girl so bad?”

“What doesn’t?” the teen snips, rolling her eyes. “She always has to argue with me or oppose me, she can never just listen to anything I say! I don’t understand. Everyone else loves me- as they should, I’m amazing.”

“Mhm.”

“But not her! Never her. She’s been against me since we moved here, what, seven years ago? All because everyone adores me due to my benevolent nature and because she’s an envious ball of rage with no friends.”

“Mhm.”

“And I always think of how repulsive she is, especially at the worst times! Did you know that I dreamed of her nasty little face the other night? She’s a true nightmare at this point. I can’t escape her even in my sleep.”

“I bet.”

“So, in conclusion, she is my number one enemy, and I will destroy her.” Evie raises her upturned nose into the air with a slight huff. “In completely legal ways, of course. Such as kindness. And a few ink bombs too.”

There it is. 

Pausing at the front of the school, Nel faces the little turd fully, her initial anger fading. Hell, she can never stay mad at the kid for long; that’s her baby, no matter how tall she grows or how ruthless she becomes. 

When Evie returns her mother’s softening gaze with a kind one of her own, Nel swallows down an old sadness that’s taken root inside of her. It’s been there for years, always hovering like a ghost in the background, always lingering no matter how long she ignores it. But, its presence isn’t so heavy with her kid here, even if she wears a dead man’s face and speaks in his same chipper tone. 

It would be just like Alastor to have a child so eerily like himself. He could never quit the game; he’d always leave some version of himself behind to plague Nel. 

Fitting. He always had to have the last laugh.

“You know, I know a thing or two about having an enemy.”

“Oh, like the DA?”

“No, not that son of a bitch, though he’s worthless,” she grumbles. “No, I had someone else I swore to destroy a long time ago.”

“Well, did you?” she asks, and Nel gives her a strained, tired smile. 

“Yes and no. That’s a story for another day. For now, all I’ll tell you is that you need to be careful, and that maybe you should spend some time using that big brain to decide what you really think of this nemesis of yours.”

“Well, I hate her. I don't need to think about that.”

Nel rolls her eyes. “No doubt, but hate can sometimes…ah, fuck it, I’ll save it.” With a shake of her head, she waves away her words. “You’ll figure it out, baby. Now come on, we’re getting the hell out of here. Goddamn ridiculous school.”

“Yes ma’am!” Evie skips along happily next to Nel, contagious cheer radiating off of her. “We need to go anyway. I’d like to be at least down the block before the dye bomb I placed in Roxxy’s locker detonates.”

“...The what?”

There’s a distant pop, and then a muffled scream from deep inside of the school building.

Evie blinks innocently, and then Nel sighs. 

History always repeats itself. 

#I really hope you like Evie because she's existed in my brain for almost as long as I've been writing Yours Truly #I don't feel like this drabble did her true justice either #she is the little shit of all time #also I couldn't resist making her enemy have an “ox” name whoopsie #she's unfortunately very similar to her father #Nel's genetics got bodied #evil lesbian child #don't argue with her you won't win and you'll wake up without a liver

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

Part vi number 18 and 8 👀

8. “Kiss me, I can’t wait any longer.” 18. “It’s so hot when you talk like that.”

it's been a long night. the mission was a success and the team is celebrating - using a chunk of the stolen cash to fill their stomachs with food and good wine at the vacant building they renovated into their hideout.

it's been a long night, and it's made even longer by how ian hasn't had a single moment alone with mickey since the heist started. since mickey had to concentrate on doing his thing with the wires and ian had to put on his tux, blending in with the gala's diamonds and furs. pretending to be someone you're not is hard in a room full of rich snobs. it's even harder in a room full of people who think they know you from top to bottom.

because they don't. these people are his family - they have been for years - but they don't know what makes ian tick. what's most important to him. the way his heart pulses and fingers itch for the man across the table from him.

his team is his family, but they don't know that he and mickey are fucking.

they can't. it would complicate too much. they'd start going off about how emotions like that can fuck with the plan. how their entire mission can go haywire if something happened to one of them. and they're right. it would. ian would scrap an entire weeks-long pursuit the fucking second he saw something happen to mickey. he cares too much. he's a fucking liability.

so they don't tell them. they keep their nights together to themselves. keep how long they've been doing this a secret. act normal and cordial and friendly on the outside, even when one shared look across the table sends pulses of want and desire through ian so powerful that he has to swallow down another gulp of wine, their heavy gaze never leaving each other once.

because it's been a long night. he hasn't had a chance to touch mickey. to reward him for a job well done in his own way. to look him over and smooth him out and exist with him, away from the others. alone. together.

the team is his family, but they don't know that he told mickey he's in love with him last night. they have no idea how powerful the wave of delight in his soul was when mickey said it back to him. to them, they're just ian and mickey. two members of the team who have gone quiet now, content with stealing glances across the table with heavy, wine-drunk eyes.

they can't know. and ian is two seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling mickey's hand into his own, so he forces himself to get up, stepping away from the table.

he disappears into one of the bedrooms - the one with the big floor to ceiling windows that look out into the abandoned building's courtyard. it's quiet here. peaceful. he can hear exactly how hard his pulse is thumping in his eardrums while everyone else carries on in the main room.

because he's good at slipping away without causing attention to it. it's how he joined the team in the first place. but there's one person who tracked his entire exit. he's fucking banking on it.

behind him, the door shuts. the lock clicks.

and when ian turns, the warmth that was being pushed down all night blooms fully and heavily in his chest.

mickey takes him in just as hungrily, the grin that's pulling the corner of his mouth so good that ian needs to chase after it. "kiss me," mickey murmurs, already stepping toward him on the momentum they've been building across the table, "can't wait any fuckin' longer."

it's got ian's heart soaring. has something almost animalistic rumbling in his chest as he steps forward too, fucking finally, because christ... "it's so fucking hot when you talk like that."

and when they meet in the middle of the room, it's with hands grabbing - feeling - running over ian's shoulders and holding mickey's face and they pull themselves together so tightly that ian can taste blood as their mouths clash.

but it's what he's been craving all night. it's what keeps him going, mickey just as hungry for it as he starts walking him backward until ian's back is pressed against the window.

they probably shouldn't be doing this here. not right now, at least. they're celebrating in the other room, after all.

but nothing is more important to ian than this man. this moment. this thing that they've made with each other.

and soon, it will be too big to hide.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#absolutely god-tier quote combo anon - you really nailed this #gallavich #shameless #ray writes #im impossibly late for work so i shan't reread. which means i hope there's nothing glaring in this hehe #smutty one-liners

[homochadensistm]

The way some Americans treat foreign wars is... something. Here's my example.

I'm half Ukrainian who moved here about a year before the invasion. When the shit hit the fan, the sudden interest in me grew like you wouldn't believe. Although my loved ones know my stance on it, so many people I met in the next month or two tried to immediately pull me into a political conversation right off the bat.

"The siege of Kharkiv went exactly his I predicted. But what do you think?" I think that my family goes to bed and wakes up to the sound of shooting and exploding? I think that I was fucking terrifed when their power went out in the middle of a Skype call, because I thought their house got hit? I think that you'll forget about this conversation in a minute while I'll be left stewing in it? As if I need more of that.

christ ur so right. my patience is completely gone for this type of behavior. it started running thin when the invasion of Ukraine happened and ppl were playing their virtual chess while my relatives were getting bombed, and now its just not there at all. there is actually Negative patience instead <3

[obsessedwrhys]

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

#MOM CUT THE WIFI #THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO FINISH #x reader #the boys #the boys x you #the boys x reader #the boys x y/n #the boys billy butcher #the boys butcher #the boys hughie #the boys mothers milk #the boys mm #the boys frenchie #the boys kimiko #the boys soldier boy #butcher x reader #hughie x reader #frenchie x reader #mm x reader #mothers milk x reader #kimiko x reader #soldier boy x reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #frenchie #mothers milk #kimiko the boys #kimiko #soldier boy #the boys amazon

[charlesdesvoeux]

Just found another Irving letter that made me very sad- not because he's melancholic in it, but because in light of what would happen to the expedition it hits very hard. It's to his sister-in-law, Catherine Irving:

(context: in an earlier letter he mentioned that he talked to his father about wanting to go to the Arctic, and he in turn mentioned it to Sir George Clerk, a relative of theirs with good contacts in the Admiralty)

"I shall be glad to be put off it, as it affects my prospects for the summer very materially, there being some difference between the regions of thick-ribbed ice and perpetual snow, and the green fields I might visit if I did not get appointed, for I had some idea of coming down to see you then; but I imagine going would probably assist me in getting advancement in the service; and in the usual routine there is but a poor prospect." -> he didn't even fucking want to go anymore, apparently. he wanted to go back to Scotland to see his family :-( but he thought it would mean promotion once he got back home (and yeah, it probably would) so he went anyway.

"I do not believe I have much chance of going, so your wicked wishes are likely to be gratified. It is not a service of much danger, and they take provisions for only two years; so they must come back in that time, if at all." -> this gives me the impression that Kate thought it was dangerous, didn't want him to go, expressed these concerns; here he tries to assuage her fears both by saying that maybe he wouldn't be selected but even if he did there probably wasn't any danger and if they only had rations for 2 years then that meant they would only stay away for 2 years tops. jesus fucking christ :-(

"I want something more exciting, and not to be lying in a harbour. It is now nineteen months since I last saw you. It seems a long time." -> you might want to just. lie in a harbor if you knew what was coming, sir. but you couldn't, could you? no one could. granted many expeditions had seen death and great duress- but for all its participants to vanish? that was, as far as i know, unprecedented. 19 months. well. you wouldn't see them ever again.

(Link to the letter here)

#historical #franklin expedition #the terror #john irving

[anjali-ashok-777]

Getting into a fight with Natalie.

(A nat scatorccio x fem reader fic)

NATALIE COME BACK. NO DONT U FUCKING WALK AWAY FROM ME.

You scream at her as she walks to the living room from your room. She’s already downed a bottle of gin and she decides to pick a fight with you today.

SHUT THE HELL UP OH MY GOD.

She screams back as she lays on the couch.

What the Fuck is wrong with u today huh? u ignore me the whole damn day at school and u decided to fucking COME OVER AND DRINK HUH?

You scream at her and snatch the bottle from her hand.

Natalie glares at u with a look you’ve never seen before, a look u wish you weren’t seeing.

Give me back the fucking bottle y/n.

You don’t though. U stand your ground. Shaking sure, but u stand the ground.

I said. Give me back the bottle. NOW.

She screams into your face. The smell of gin mixed with cigarettes completely filling ur face.

N-no..

You sputter softly. Crying now.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE U CRYING FOR JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

She snatched the bottle from your hand and takes a swig.

Natty what’s happening to you….Natalie please…you need to slow down….the drugs the alcohol baby please….

You say as u run to her and cup her cheek…looking up at her.

MAYBE I WILL IF U DIDN’T GIVE ME A FUCKING REASON TO DO IT.

She screams into your face. Drunk. High. Unloving.

You stand there staring at her. Frozen. Letting what she said sink into you.

She stares at you. Her face softening. She looks down.

I-I’m the one making u do this..?

You stutter frozen in space. A look of anger and disgust on ur face.

Nat doesn’t look at you. She’s staring at the floor.

I didn’t mean that it slipped out….y/n I didn’t- I didn’t I-I you know I didn’t fucking mean that l-

It’s me? This whole time? That’s how fucking terrible I am? Hmm? THATS HOW MUCH I-

Your voice cracks…..you bend down and pinch ur nose trying not to cry further.

Y/n……

Nat tries protesting…her eyes wide as she realises what she just said….

You let out a sniffle

Y/n…y/n look at me-

IF I SUCKED SO MUCH U SHOULD’VE FUCKING LEFT ME NATALIE. YOU SHOULD’VE NEVER TOLD ME U LOVED ME AND U SHOULD NEVER KISS ME AFTER SCHOOL EVERY FUCKING DAY IF IM THE REASON YOUR FUCKING MESSED UP. IF I WAS SUCH A FUCKING BURDEN Y-

I DIDN’T MEAN WHAT I SAID IT SLIPPED OUT. I LOVE U I DO. Y/n I-I ACTUALLY LOVE U MORE THAN ANY FUCKING THING. NO NO NO I DIDN’T I DIDN’T I SWEAR-

Nat runs to you explaining everything….hands raised, trying to cup your cheek. You turn away from her.

You let out more choked sobs as she protests.

Your gripping your T-shirt and sobbing…

No no baby i- baby it slipped out I swear I swear oh my fucking god y/n I swear I didn’t-

She goes to gather you.

She knows how bad u must feel considering how bad her addiction problems were, the number of OD’s she’s experienced, the number of bad reactions….now she’s blamed you for it.

She knows how u feel. She hates it.

No no baby come here I’m so sorry I’m so sorry….she says as she hugs u and cries herself.

You sob into her shirt.

N-no I didn’t- I didn’t want to make u do that…Natalie…Natalie no I’m - im sorry for being such a

Baby no baby please…please please I didn’t mean it I’m sorry I’m sorry…

She’s crying into ur head as she holds you, kissing u repeatedly.

If u-u didn’t mean it why would- would you- why would u say that I tried helping u natty so-so many r-time natty why would y-you say that…Natalie I- no no why-

She holds you like you’ve just died in her arms. Regretting everything shes done like she killed you.

I tried keeping u clean. You whimper. If it was me the whole time….Natalie….

She stays silent and kisses ur temple. Shaking in regret.

It’s not you….I don’t know why I said that. I- I love u I swear I swear y/n

You lay there sobbing in her arms…sobbing even though u wanna be far away from her….u can’t though. You can’t even if this repeats, even if she’s drunk and yelling.

You love your Natalie.

She’s your natty.

She’s kissing ur temple tonight.

She’ll be yelling at u tomorrow.

She’ll be laughing at Kevin’s dumb behaviour with u tomorrow.

That’s your natty.

Your. Natty.

If you touch a drug or bottle again I’ll leave. U finally mutter into her chest.

You know u won’t leave. You love her too much.

Nat doesn’t.

Nat sobs into your hair.

I’m trying y/n….I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that I’m trying you know.

Nat sobs into you. Kissing ur temple.

You kiss the hand holding you.

Natty?

Yeah babygirl… she sniffles back.

Don’t fucking say that again. You shiver.

Nats face squirms, she tries not to cry.

Don’t fucking say that after everything I’ve done. After how much I love you. You say blankly.

Nat kisses your cheek in response. You feel her tears. Warm. Fresh. Regretting.

You can’t really stay up after this. Your day was exhausting, so was your night. You fall asleep in her arms.

So does she.

Both faces peaceful, tear filled yes….but peaceful.

We don’t know what is to come.

Atleast you have your natty.

Your. Natty.

#lottie x natalie #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #faniction #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x fem reader

[powderblueblood]

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984. 

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this. 

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it. 

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from. 

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. 

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.” 

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.  

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow. 

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again… 

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo! 

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious. 

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!” 

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads. 

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up? 

We were kind before; we can be kind once more… 

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm. 

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again. 

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed. 

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him. 

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.” 

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating. 

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too. 

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery. 

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep? 

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses. 

This is the royal court. They float above it all. 

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings. 

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants. 

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone. 

And finally, Lacy Doevski. 

The Almighty. 

She is a mythic bitch. 

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed– 

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates. 

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer. 

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table. 

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch. 

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.” 

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick. 

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned,  “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.” 

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.” 

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over. 

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof. 

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts. 

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important. 

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face. 

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down. 

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic. 

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful! 

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! 

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt. 

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe. 

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set. 

Just a dream. 

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you. 

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me. 

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox. 

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days. 

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic. 

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on. 

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her. 

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.” 

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body. 

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way. 

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to. 

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

[scaryscarecrows]

One minute they’re moving, the next they’ve been set upon by ninjas.

That’s the only way Curt Evans can think of to describe the sudden assault; armed men, terrifyingly agile, falling on them before anybody had any idea they were even there.

It’s over embarrassingly quickly.

No one’s dead, though they’re all bruised. Jesus Christ. He’s on his knees, badly winded and yeah, that’s a cracked rib, and all he can think right now is, what just happened? A quick glance around at his squadmates says they’re thinking the same thing.

The ninjas are wearing black and red, with stark white full-face masks and blood-red goggles. Several of them have swords–swords, what the fuck?--but all of them have guns. One of them, smaller than the others, steps forward. They tilt their head, goggles boring into Evans’ eyes, before their hand snaps out and tears his dog tags from his neck.

“Hey-!”

“Shut up,” somebody else–a man’s voice–snaps. “We didn’t ask you to talk.” Then, “We takin’ ‘em back to base, sir?”

The man holding his dog tags doesn’t answer. He just looks at Evans (or, well, that’s what it looks like he’s doing) for a long moment before his arm flies out, swinging the dog tags like a flail. They hit him in teeth (that’s a chip, ow) before the man flips over him (what the fuck?) and–hurk!

Air-air-air-air–

His vision’s just starting to go when the chain loosens from around his neck. He’s still gasping when a boot between his shoulder blades puts him flat on his face and then he’s kicked over, onto his back. A boot’s planted on his chest and a massive sniper rifle that looks leagues beyond anything he’s ever worked with levels itself at his face.

The expected death doesn’t come. After two minutes of staring into those red goggles, his assailant scoffs and steps off him, snaps his fingers and jerks his head. The man from before nods.

“Yessir. Get up, assholes, we’re goin’ for a ride.”

* * *

The ride is twenty minutes. It’s a quiet twenty minutes, but it ends when they pull up to a massive military compound. High walls ringed with razor wire, security guards, and cameras. Big gates that look like something out of Jurassic Park. And an entire army’s worth of men inside, from the looks of it; trucks, tanks, the whole thing.

What the hell?

The little man from before hops out before the car comes to a stop. Striding across the compound is a giant that looks like he could snap Godzilla in half. He stops, though, when the littler guy whistles, puts his index fingers against the side of his head, and salutes*.

“Think he and Antoine had a TC,” the giant says. “They should be done soon. Why?”

A thumb jerks back towards the jeep.

“Shiiit,” the giant says appreciatively. “He’s not gonna like that.”

Who’s not gonna like that?

The small man laughs. Not totally mute, then, and clearly not deaf. Impediment? Just an asshole?

“I don’t think it was supposed to take–there he is.”

Oh.

Oh, good God.

Evans’ first, crazy thought, is that Gotham’s Bat has gone off the rails and set this up. Then the…thing…gets closer and he can see that it’s not quite the same. No cape, for one. And the full-faced helmet. It looks more like a cyborg than anything, but it’s coming this way.

“Riley brought ya a present,” the giant calls. The cyborg stops, looks at the blond man trotting behind it, and shrugs.

“Something tells me it’s not Reese’s.”

The voice is heavily filtered, sounding more demonic than human. The smaller man–Riley (huh, he knew a Riley once)--nods and erupts in a flurry of gesticulations. The cyborg tilts its head, sun reflecting off that blue visor, and remains quiet until Riley stops moving.

“Good call,” it says, and then it’s stalking towards them. Up close, it’s big. Well-armed. The insignia on the armor is unfamiliar and the armor itself is hard and sharp, almost medieval. “Well, gentlemen. What brings you out this far?”

Nobody answers. Then, quick as a snake, the cyborg lunges and pulls Evans away from the rest of his squadmates.

“Curt Evans,” the demonic voice growls. “You’re in charge of…well, that’s interesting. Operation Pleasure Time? Thought that was a soda.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says immediately. “Who the hell are you?”

The cyborg chuckles.

“The Arkham Knight.” What the hell? Some freak escaped from Gotham? Evans has never set foot there, but one of his old squadmates had been a local. That guy was fucked up. “Don’t play coy with me–well, well, this is interesting.”

It plucks the small body camera from his vest and kicks Evans’ legs out from under him, lets him fall to the dirt in a heap.

“Drouot.”

“Yessir.”

“Tell Rogers to get into their camera frequency and run a cover-up.” It–he?--pauses. “Not that ridiculous jungle monster cryptid, something practical. Crocodiles.”

“Aw, you’re gonna break his heart, boss,” the blond says. The Arkham Knight scoffs.

“He’ll live.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be annoying about it.” 

The Knight tosses the camera over and the blond disappears. Evans swallows.

“That’s recording already,” he says, willing his voice to be steady. “It doesn’t matter what you do now, it’s been viewed.”

“Nah.” The Knight sounds incredibly entertained. “We have a scrambler. All that’s been viewed is static.”

“We’re not telling you shit.”

“I really don’t care what you’re doing out here. I just care that you keep your mouths shut, and you know what they say about dead men.”

“What the fuck–”

“Get rid of them.”

“What, you won’t even do the job yourself?” Rodreguez shouts. “Fuckin’--”

BLAM!

“There. I killed one of you.” The Knight reholsters his gun. “Happy? Now. Get rid of them. Unless…” He turns to look at Riley, who shakes his head. “Never mind. Just get rid of them. I want to see your squadron in two hours; see what you’ve learned, huh?”

*Riley actually has two ways to refer to Jason: one is the shorthand symbol for crazy (index finger spiraled near your head) followed by ASL for knight. Crazy Knight=Arkham Knight. The other is this one–Evans may not know the Family Politics here, but Riley respects, and thus salutes, very few people. So this is the more affectionate one he uses to Jason or with the Squad.

#arkham knight #jason todd #scaryverse #arkhamverse #the militia #probably tweak it later i'm feelin' ehhh #but you can see it for now anyway #as a Tumblr Exclusive!

[keferon]

Oh man….now I know how concept of spark twins works………..

Look at them. I love them

And..uh….well……fuck

——————

Also. Perceptor is so epic in this comic it’s . A.

#okaY #I’m reading last stand of the wreckers #aND WELL #Now I know what the hell happened with Grimlock #I mean what made him…like this… #and why is Fortress Maximus was going insane in the mtmte #jesus Christ…….. #Prowl goddamn #okay okay do you remember how in mtmte Fort Max said that autobots saved him after 3 fucking years?? WELL PLOT TWIST #Wreckers found him by accident. no one…i mean NO ONE was going to rescue him from that hell #what was I talking about ah yes spark twins #spark twins is such a cool concept because the are literally can feel each other’s well.everything! And kinda see through each other’s opti #*optics. #But you know when it’s not cool? When your twin is tortured #okay ummm haha so there is these two brothers..or like..soulmates? I don’t care I love them. But I have a VERY strong feeling #that at least one of them is going to die #………update……………………. #tfp lied to me. Death of a spark twin doesn’t look like what they were showing me………….. #another update #PROWL GODDAMN #ref #I lost my sleep thanks wreckers

[biohazard-inevitable]

SOBBING AND SCREAMING AND FUCK-

#one piece #trafalgar law #donquixote rosinante #corazon #one piece spoilers #tagged for a friend #IM NOT OKAY FUCKING GOD I LOVE CORA SO MUCH?????? #HE IS HIS DADDDDDDDD #FUCK I WANT THEM TO HAVE A HAPPY LIFE TOGETHER AS FATHER AND SON SO BAD??? #BUT I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS #THEYVE BEEN TELLING US FROM DAY 1 #BUT JESUS CHRIST CORA BEING THE WAY HE IS #CORA THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

[blueskittlesart]

someday when you're in college you may be registering for classes and see a 'TBD' next to the professor category on a class you're required to take. and you will hear a little voice in your head saying 'just take the class anyway, it can't be that bad. surely the school i'm putting myself in debt to go to wouldn't hire someone who doesn't know how to teach.' that voice is the devil. do not listen

#RIPS MY FUCK>ING HAIR OUTTTTT #WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH PUTS A TWENTY MINUTE TIMER ON FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL PERSON'S CRITIQUE. IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS A GOOD IDEA #i already complained about this to everuone who knows me bc it happened last night but i just had a 1.5 hour crit and it reignited my rage #because why did TEN PEOPLE take us FIVE HOURS TO GET THROUGH CRIT. WHYYYYYYYYYYY #torture. literal psychological torture is what i experienced last night. for real #and tonight i had a very similar crit with the same amount of people with a different prof and it took ONE AND A HALF HOURS. #LIKE GOD INTENDED. #jesus christ. do not go to art school #personal