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#if i own part of a series i Need to own the whole thing
im-merobiba · 3 days
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in honour of drawfee turning ten (!!!) here are ten reasons why you should watch drawfee
the art is incredible. i feel like that goes without saying for an art-based channel, but i am consistently impressed with how talented the hosts are.
these people are hilarious. pretty much every episode has at least one moment that makes me laugh out loud, which is no small feat. the jokes are just silly enough to be funny without being too much. or they are too much, which is just as entertaining.
all four hosts have great personalities that really shine. i like to say that each has their own flavour of chaos, which can really stand out both on its own and in combination with the others.
the four of them a really great dynamic. you can tell that they don't just spend time together because they have to. they have a genuine connection that one can only hope to find with a friend group.
the show has some great guests. from longtime friends of the show like willie and caldwell to newer folks like ralph and onsta. they've even had fans on the show before, such as deepblueink and nathan longs.
drawtectives. just drawtectives. the gang--especially julia--puts so much effort into making it an enjoyable series, and it's such a good time. it's definitely a commitment, with over twenty hours worth of episodes, but it is so worth it.
the fandom is probably the best i've ever been a part of. i've never seen much controversy in this fanbase, only positivity and a great sense of humour. the drawfee crew seems to like us, too. i hope they do, anyway.
speaking of the fandom, some of the best fan work in general i've ever seen have come from drawfee fans. from fanart to animations to edits to music, this fandom has some incredible creativity.
i talked about the humour, but i feel like i need to mention the recurring bits. i find myself laughing at everyday things like crabs and eggs because they remind me of some ridiculous drawfee bit.
this channel has been around for ten whole years now, and has continued to be incredible over all this time. i'm admittedly a newer fan, having discovered the show in early 2022, but i can recognise how much love and work has gone into this show. it's been a source of comfort for me and so many others, and i think that's a true accomplishment.
congratulations on ten years, drawfee crew. here's to many more.
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lexisecretaccx · 3 days
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High School Sweethearts pt.11 - Chris Sturniolo
Other parts are on my Masterlist 🫶
(Femreader x Chris Sturniolo, nothing really, kissing, suggestive, mentions of family death)
A/n: took a break from writing this, idk how to finish this series yet so ig I’ll have to wait and see how many parts it’s gonna end up being lol
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“You were very rude in there, I’m disappointed in you.” My mother spoke as we drove out of their driveway, “when aren’t you.” I shrug and look out the window. “Maybe if I didn’t have his dad creeping on me and Evan being rude to me then I would’ve been fine.” I sighed.
The whole car ride is in silence, when we pull up in front of our house my mom turns to me, “I would like you to be out of the house just for tonight,” I look to her, “what?” She swallows, “can you stay with Chris?” She asks. “What is this about?” We get out the car.
“It doesn’t matter to you, y/n.” She opens the front door, “it’s a bit last minute mom, what if he’s busy?” I widen my eyes at her as we enter the house and she turns to me after shutting the door, “then find someone else to stay with, you can’t be here tonight,” she sternly spoke, “please.” She whispered.. desperately?
“Fine.” I sigh and run upstairs to pack a bag and change out of the dress. Chris said it was cool and Matt would pick me up, I grab my bag before walking out the door, slamming it behind me not even saying goodbye to my mom.
Matts car pulls up outside and I hop in the passenger seat. “Chris is in the shower so that’s why he’s not here.” Matt smiles, I nod before looking out at my house, feeling waves of confusion wash over me, why would my mom tell me I can’t be at my own house?
“You ok?” Matt breaks me out the trance, I look to him and flash him a small smile, “yeah sorry, just thinking..” I reply, “no need to apologise.” Matt directs his attention back to the road infront of us.
We pull up outside their house and me and Matt both hop out the car. As soon as I open the front door, Chris runs up to me, his hair still wet from his shower. “Hey.” He smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Get a room oh my god.” Nick fake gags and Chris rolls his eyes. We go up to his room and I sit on the bed.
“How was… the dinner thing?” Chris sits next to me smiling, “not great,” I sigh and lay back. “Evan was there, my mom lied.” I mumble. Chris turns to me and looks at me lying down, “what.” He spoke, his face hardening.
“We had the dinner and he kept making comments about me, then I got mad and went to the bathroom and he knocked on the door, I opened it and he kept talking to me.” I place my hands over my eyes and rub my temples. “He was grabbing at my hands and was pretty horrible to me, so I told him that me and you fucked.. and he shut up and I think his ego is very hurt.” I fake pout and Chris’ face changes quickly as he starts to laugh.
“He deserves that.. why doesn’t your mom want you there tonight?” Chris lays next to me and faces me, “I wish I knew.” I face him for a moment before sitting up, he quickly joins me.
I move onto Chris and straddle his lap, his eyes widen slightly, “oh hey.” He smirks and I chuckle, “hey.” I whisper before kissing him softly on his pink lips, his hands snake around my waist as he pulls me into him closer, if that’s possible.
The kiss gets more heated as my tongue explores his mouth, he lays back so I’m fully sitting on top of him. I pull away from the kiss to adjust myself into a comfortable position, Chris groans as I wriggle on top of him. “Shit sorry.” I smile, before sitting comfortably on top of him, his hand grips my hips.
I lean back down and continue to kiss him, soft groans eliciting from his lips every time I move. A knock on his door breaks apart the moment as I quickly hop off of his lap and he adjusts himself before walking and opening the door.
It’s pretty obvious that we had been making out, his hairs kinda ruffled but it’s wet so it’s not too noticeable but his lips are puffy. Nick is standing on the other side of the door, “what Nick?” Chris asks impatiently, “move.” Nick pushes past Chris causing an offended look to appear on chris’ face. “Y/n.” Nick sits next to me.
“Yeah?” I ask in confusion, “there’s a new kid moving to our school, apparently he knows you?” Nick says to me, “he?” Chris asks. Nick nods, “I’d be able to know who he is if you told me his name.” I laugh awkwardly. “Oliver or something I don’t know, Matt met him today.” I think for a second before I look up at Nick and widen my eyes.
“Oliver’s a pretty common name, I don’t know.” I breathe out. “Okay then, go back to.. whatever y’all were doing.” Nick spoke as he walked out.
“Oliver?” Chris asks me. “Hm?” I look up at him, “do you know an Oliver? Or knew?” He sits back down next to me, “yeah when I was a kid but it might not be him.” I laugh, “an Oliver says he knows you and you knew one.. it’s probably the kid Nicks talking about.” Chris sighs.
“Are you jealous?” I ask and raise an eyebrow at Chris, he shrugs “no, just this Oliver kid needs to know you have a boyfriend.” He motions to himself, I laugh, “he’ll know for sure.” I smirk as I press a kiss to Chris’ lips softly.
The next morning we go to school early with Nick and Matt, “let’s go to the skatepark bit.” Matt said and we walked to the ramps, “I don’t have my board with me Matt.” Chris spoke. “Let’s just sit on the ramps and chill.” Matt shrugs, “as bros?” Nick smirked and Matt laughed.
I situated myself on a ramp next to Chris, my legs across his lap and Matt and Nick opposite us. The sound of gravel against the ground drew my attention and I turned around.
“Glad you could make it Ol!” Matt said as he got off the ramp and walked to the boy.. Oliver. I recognised his face, except he was older, taller and more attractive. Not attractive in a way that I had feelings for him but he was good looking. I stare at him, studying his features, the blonde hair slightly covering his light brown eyes and the freckles sprinkled over his nose.
“Hey y/n.” He smiles at me, I nod at him before looking back at Chris whose jaw has hardened and he’s staring at Oliver. “That’s Chris, the other triplet.” Matt spoke, “and y/n’s boyfriend.” Nick adds on, smirking at me. Chris’ face softens slightly, “hey.” Is all he said to Oliver.
No matter who was talking I knew Oliver’s eyes were trained on me, I mean I have changed slightly in the past 6 years. “Yeah I moved back to Boston because my father passed away.” Oliver spoke softly, my jaw drops. “What? I loved Thomas.” I said sadly, Oliver nods. “He was sick when I left here in the first place. But he wanted to ignore it for as long as possible.”
His voice cracks and he stops talking. I feel sadness rush over me, his father used to put bandages on my knee when I fell over. He would always pick me up from mine if my parents were fighting. His mother must be heartbroken.
Chris’ hand stays rested on my leg as we all talk. As Oliver’s eyes are still focused on me, I look at him and he smiles at me, I smile back before returning my attention to Nick who was speaking.
We get off the ramps and walk to our classes. “I’ve got a free period, so I’m gonna study in the library.” I smile to Chris, he nods and I place a kiss to his cheek before walking towards the library. I hear footsteps behind me, I turn around and Oliver is there, “I’ve also got a free period, since it’s basically my first day.” He catches up to me.
“Can I sit with you?” He asks me, I nod. We walk into the library and sit down at the table I usually do. “I haven’t seen you in.. ages.” Oliver spoke, “yeah it’s been like 6 years.” I chuckle softly, pulling my books out my bag. “I’m sorry I never called.” He whispered. I look up at him, “it’s fine, you were busy and your dad was sick.. it’s okay.” I smile and he smiles back.
“What you studying for?” He asks me, breaking the silence. “Just math stuff.” I shrug slightly some time passes before he spoke again. “You and Chris then huh?” He asks me, “hm?” I look up. “You’re dating Chris right?” “Yeah.” I smile. He nods and looks down at his phone. “How’s Lacey?” I ask him, Lacey is his little sister, before they left she was 5 so now she must be about 11.
“She’s not the best right now, none of us are but I try to take care of them.” The corners of his mouth lift before he drops them. “Do you wanna come over later? To have dinner? I bet my mom would love to see you again.” He offered, I look back up at him, “I’ll have to check if I’m doing anything, but that sounds nice.” I smile back.
“You’ve changed.” Oliver grins at me, “so have you.” I laugh, “well I’m not 12 anymore.” He shrugs. “6 years have passed, it’s not surprise that either of us changed.” I chuckle, looking back down at my book before closing it. “Could I have your number? So we can talk more? So much has happened in the past 6 years I need to fill you in.” He smiles at me and I nod, “sure.”
We exchange numbers and the bell rings, end of first period. “I’ll see you then.” He spoke, standing up. “Yeah see you.” I replied as he walked away. I feel happy knowing my best friend from the age of 4 is back. I feel guilty talking to him, I don’t want Chris getting jealous, even though nothings gonna happen between me and Oliver I’ve known him for so long it’d be weird.
I just know Chris is a jealous person, he should trust me though. I would love to go see Oliver’s mom and sister, they were basically my second family for 8 years until they left.
I’m still confused on what exactly my mom was hiding from me yesterday. She seemed desperate to get me out the house, maybe she had a guy over.. I don’t want to think of that though, it’s kinda gross. I chuckle to myself.
I sit in History but I feel everyone’s eyes on me, a note hit me on the back of the head. I picked it up you okay? Is written on it. I turn around to see Nick smiling at me, I nod slightly before turning back around. I’m not okay, everyone is staring at me because of what I did to Michael.
Even my teacher is ignoring me, Michael’s seat is empty, and this teacher always favours the boys.. she’s young-ish and always has a flirty sense to her when she speaks to the boys in the class, except Nick since he’s gay.
She always seems to favour Michael, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were secretly fucking, she did get accused of that before but I don’t know how she got out of it.
Another note hits me, but this time from the side, freak is all that’s written on it, I turn to the side of me and see two boys laughing, “real mature.” I call across to them, “don’t beat us up!” They tease. I stand up and grab my bag before walking out the class, “where are you-” I cut the teacher off by closing the door behind me.
I walk down the hallway, I don’t know where I’m going but I don’t want to be in there with them. I bump into Chris, “hey.” He smiles at me and my face lights up as I hug him.
“Why aren’t you in class.” He asks me, “everyone’s an asshole in there.” I shrug and Chris chuckles. “Walking out of class? That’s really bad.” He teases and kisses me on the forehead.
“What did you talk about with Oliver in the library?” He asks. “Just normal stuff, he asked if I wanted to go to his for dinner and see his mom and sister, they used to be like my second family.” I smiled, “oh.. that sounds fun.” Chris replies hesitantly.
“Chris, nothings gonna happen between me and Oliver, I promise you don’t have to be jealous.” I grab his hands, “jealous? I’m not jealous.” He scoffs, “your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re biting the inside of your cheek.. you’re jealous.” I laugh, he smiles, “I trust you but I don’t know if I trust him.”
“You can trust him, I won’t let him try anything.”
Chris nods.. “I hope.” He mutters to himself.
A/n: Childhood bestie is back! .. what is y/n’s mom up to fr… I think posting might be a bit inconsistent in the upcoming week or 2 because I’m really busy!!
Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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Izutsumi character study
#dungeon meshi#izutsumi#One of my goals for this year was to spend more time doing art studies.#What better way to start than with my favourite danmeshi character (not seen: a whole page of figuring out her features)#I feel like she is by far one of the most poorly understood characters in the series. Partially due to her 'late party member' status.#'She's abrasive and mean' - 'she's a picky eater' - 'she's a catgirl who acts like an asshole cat ' YES and that is the point!#Everyone in dungeon meshi is traumatized and messy about it but izutsumi is just less polite in how she tries to cope.#Izutsumi is a extremely traumatized teenager who has utterly lacked autonomy her entire life.#She is the epitome of a “If I can just have X thing then all my problems will be solved!” character. And the X is 'Freedom'.#Her epilogue was one of the best and wrapped up her character so wonderfully (WARNING: I WILL NOW SPOIL PART OF THE ENDING)#Because she finally gets her freedom! She can go where she wants to and she doesn't need anybody! Yet...it doesn't fix her.#She is so focused on doing only what she wants that she forgets her own needs. Sometimes you have to eat the things you don't want.#And sometimes you have to face the hard truths that you need more than just one thing to make you happy.#Life is not all about only seeking pleasures and avoiding pain. You need to be balanced in order to grow.#Eat your vegetables (including the metaphorical ones: I am eating more art veggies this year by doing art studies!!!)
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witchspeka · 9 months
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I dont think Mob is naive as much as he's socially unaware, like the reason why he trusts Reigen so blindly is a bit more complex than just him being naive
Cause Mob reached out to Reigen because he was desperate to find someone like him, someone who understood his psychic specific issues, someone that could truly know what he's feeling and going through and give him guidance and support
Post incident Mob's thinking process was something along the lines of my powers hurt people -> my powers are bad -> my powers (my emotions, my instincts, myself) cannot be trusted
So he lost all confidence and trust in his own actions, resigning to being as passive as possible to avoid any further damage to anyone else, thus he started doubting his own perception of reality too
He's a kid already struggling with being ostracised for being socially inept, who just got traumatised and all of his insecurity increased by the tenfold, he doesn't know how to process what he's going through. He needs help.
And here comes Reigen, seemingly reliable, a responsible adult in a child's eyes, someone who claims he can understand him
Even tho Reigen doesnt. But it doesn't matter, because Mob finds comfort in his words and takes them to heart
Even if Reigen doesn't fully get it, even if he doesn't see the bigger picture, even if his advice isn't always the best
Eventually, Mob grows up, realises Reigen isn't as honest as he seemed through his 11 year old perspective, but like most things, he refuses to acknowledge it on a deeper level
Mob knows, but never tells Reigen, never thinks about what all those lies mean to him (ofc until he forces himself to face those doubts regarding Reigen, to properly acknowledge both of their flaws and accept them as they are, I should scream into the void about Confession Arc more God)
Due to his lack of trust in himself, Mob has relied on Reigen for years now to shape his moral compass, his thoughts, his decisions
Because well, Reigen lies, sure, but he isnt a bad person. When he hurts Mob, it isn't intentional or with ill intent, he still wants the best for him, what's the issue?
Except that it stunts Mob's growth. He doesn't develop as a person, doesn't have goals or wishes or ambitions, can't make choices on his own, he doesn't even let himself acknowledge his own emotions, he refuses to let himself exist
But Mob realises in time that he wants more than that, he wants to become better and be independent and feel again
Still, he puts the acknowledgement of the lies on hold for as long as he can, unwilling to question the way things are
This can make him feel a little naive, he constantly relies on Reigen and trusts his decisions and raises questions rarely until separation arc when he finally puts his foot down
And I do think that moment is the most resounding proof we have that Mob knows and allows himself to be used by Reigen, not wanting to shake the status quo, until he gets fed up
I mentioned the social ineptitude at the beggining but idk if I should even elaborate on that, you've watched the show, you know what I mean
He's blunt and can't read social cues or tonality that well and can't speak in front of crowds and is overall pretty awkward and I do think some people conflate that with naivety
Mob is still a child, he doesnt fully understand how the world works at the ripe age of 14 years old, but some folks take that as him being inherently naive/innocent/whatever which I don't find true
#ppl do a similar thing with seri but for different reasons but i do think in his case its worse cause thats a whole ass adult#anyway. i dont think im saying anything new i just wanted to ramble <3#i missed mobposting what can i say#ik i saw somebody talk about this in a more eloquent way but i doubt i could find the post cause i dont think i rbed it so rip#mp100#mob psycho 100#kageyama shigeo#that ova needs to come out already im going insane#cine te a intrebat#also hope i didnt come off as too negative towards reigen or smth#but like. my favourite part of confession is him saying (i didnt know!) LIKE YEAH. U DIDNT. LMAO.#ppl treat him as a bit too reliable sometimes and dont give him a lot of room to grow like Reigen isnt even 30 yet!! he aint that old!!#he still needs to get HIS own shit tgt before giving out advice just saying. also he totally doesnt understand mob fully. how can he??#he never mentions the incident with ritsu and considering mobs inclination of never telling anyone anything unless prompted#i doubt he knows... like reigen genuinely doesnt know the extent of mobs trauma!! when he said I Didnt Know he meant that shit!!!!!!#which is like. fine. cause to me whats important is how he always wants to protect mob and support him and help him#even if he doesnt always know how. even if advice backfires. hes always there and hes always trying and hes just as human and flawed as mob#himself#ig what im getting at is just that im bothered by the Flavour of reliable adult fandom is giving him. hes a lil pathetic and#fucks up sometimes and thats fiiiiiine. i feel like i talked shit about reigen but i do think hes a good guy and IS reliable just not in the#gives great advice way. but in the Knows How To Talk And Bullshit His Way Through Everything and Has Genuinely Good Intentions (usually)#and will throw away all of his self preservation if the situation requires him to. his advice is good but can be vague idk ONE rlly managed#to balance his pathetic side with his helpful reliable side and i dont think i articulated it the best way but like.... hes simultaneously#pathetic and sad but also the most sane and reliable adult in this show. rant over see u next time byeeee
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bruhstation · 1 year
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the journey of gordon juniperus gresley (and still ongoing)
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sprucewoodmpreg · 5 months
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watcher lore dislikers are reported to be mildly scared and afraid during this season of life series
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bootyful-seventeen · 26 days
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I am heavily contemplating on buying myself a dvd player soon and buying all the DVDs for a ton of movies and tv shows I grew up watching cuz I miss the magic of dvds
#hear me out on this one okay. but the Barbie movies were magic on dvd back in the day#and I do wanna see if stores are still selling the old strawberry shortcake dvds before I go online for those#I wanna snort that nostalgia so bad#and of course I’ll need to get the dcau on dvd#like all of it cuz I’m so bored with the dccu since we don’t get as much new stuff#it’s always Batman or superman and love them but I’m kinda bored from always seeing a new bman or sups movie#Wonder Woman I wouldn’t mind a new actor for her but I know she’s not gonna be a muscle mommy which I’ll be sad about#give me a Wonder Woman that is built like rhea ripely god damnit#the flash is eh cuz I found out this whole time I’ve been watching the Wally west flash#but yeah Wally is who I want and then there’s the green lantern like dude is so cool iams all we have is the 1 from 2011 I think#sure I could watch some of the tv series they have but I have too many shows on my watch list it’s overwhelming at times so I skip over lots#tho I will have to pray like crazy cuz some of the things I know I want are probably gonna be expensive as fuck even as second hand#saw a class of the titans season 1 dvd going for $81 cad 💀💀💀#the world is not kind to those who don’t love the digital age#I prefers my dvds cuz I own it and no one can take it away from me unless they physically steal it#omg I’m turning into my grandma cuz she still had the vhs player with some tapes too#just wish she never donated the tapes for swan princess 1-3 and Anastasia and ferngully and basically all my faves that she owned#like Ngl a part of me wants to hit up value village just to see if maybe they’re still there or if I’ll find other copies of the same things#cuz a perk about cities with older people is that you get so much older tech and other items it’s insane
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aeide-thea · 9 months
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god i know that complaining abt fic which most of you haven't read, and which i won't, for politeness' sake, identify in this post, is a great way to come across as both dickish and boring—
but i've been rereading a very long, very satisfyingly plotty series that's a fandom darling and the thing is, when you read like 400k of an author's work at once it really starts to become painfully apparent what their priorities are, by which i mean two things:
holy shit they're obsessed with 'what if strong powerful men who could hurt you didn't (but did hurt Bad Guys) (and it was sexy of them),' which leads into
holy shit they do not appear to have thought through the implications of saying 'i will have my heroes take over the same power structures that have enabled abuse, make no real changes to those structures other than swapping out the leadership, and then claim that everything is wonderful now bc Good Men Are In Charge'??
like. i don't necessarily need every passing fantasy to present me with a coherent, revolutionary system of politics and ethics—sometimes things are just fun and sexy and not especially Examined and that's fine!—but by the time someone's written literally almost half a million words, and done a lot of worldbuilding while they were at it, i am going to start squinting if they seem to think a Good Man can e.g. become an emperor by killing off the leadership of multiple countries and installing puppet kings loyal to him and still remain a Good Man, even if the justification was that the original leadership was maltreating its citizens and deserved to be extrajudicially executed. like. this shit was a bad, autocratic move when the US did it in real life and it's still bad now that you're having our mutual blorbo do it in fiction! and that's not even getting into the whole thing where like. they've got servants who the Good Man and his friends ""treat well"" but who very much remain second-class citizens in terms of how the story actually frames them and their concerns. [this was also a huge issue i had with foz m*adows' most recent book—everyone wants to write about fantasy nobles but they also want to make them good people and it's like. honestly i think it might be better to get comfortable writing about flawed people, but also—if your aristos aren't treating their servants like equals and your text isn't either, you haven't actually cracked the Moral Aristo paradox, sorry!] like, there's nothing that says your story has to depict a fully Healed World, nor should there be! but it's troubling if you seem to be convinced you've written one (and have your wide-eyed love interests constantly marveling at it!) when you very patently haven't.
#in all honesty—i've framed a lot of this as political/ethical critique‚ and like‚ it IS‚ but also—#i'm just really frustrated because like. the whole 'what if people were shockingly nice to you' thing feels like it SHOULD be better for me#but in actual fact i find myself totally turning up my nose at it and i can't totally work out why#i mean i guess part of it is that this author's Traumatized Love Interests are always really innocent victims#which i can't identify with emotionally because i feel like a piece of shit#so i need a story that's more like 'person who's been told they were a monster for so long they believe it gets convinced they aren't'#'(lovingly and sexily)'#but also i think a lot of it just. isn't subtle enough. like i need to have to put pieces together so i'm implicated in my own catharsis#being constantly told 'wow it's so amazing i'm not being abused by this person who COULD abuse me!! that's so sexy of them!'#is just. not doing it for me. like. 'not abusive' is not actually sexy to me‚ unfortunately. i need some character traits.#and unfortunately the ones this author tosses in for flavor ALSO don't convince me#because they never actually manifest in the story. it's like 'oh this character is so prickly—but never actually offends the LI.'#'oh this other character is so gruff—but the LI understands that about them from day one and doesn't take it personally.'#like. if the hero's 'flaws' don't actually cause any problems—they aren't flaws#anyway. i've definitely complained about this exact series multiple times on here at this point#but that's the thing—it's compelling enough i keep going back to it‚ so i get extra-frustrated by its flaws#whereas like. there's a lot of stuff that's much worse that i've been much less frustrated by#because i never had any particular hopes for it#anyway. thx for yr patience in this fully self-inflicted Trying Time‚ lmao#i guess this can get filed under#bookblogging
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ladsofsorrow24 · 1 year
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i really should further the "go reread chainsaw man" agenda because some people read it in one go then come out with Very Wild conclusion
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prosebushpatch · 2 years
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alright everyone cross your fingers that this new manuscript isn’t more than like 3000 words longer than the last...
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maybankiara · 6 months
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okay but i'm working on phone swap again and i had to read the full thing to remember all the details and man. the way i was squealing like i was 14 again, reading some cute shit. the way i woke up in the morning and my boyfriend was trying to get me out of bed but i was just like 'no i can't i have to keep reading it's so tense these characters just broke up' and he was like. okay. aren't you reading your own story. and i was like yes i am sir and that is precisely why i need to get back into it because holy shit phone swap is so good in some aspects and i just. i can't wait to start sharing it with the world again, whenever that may be
#phone swap series#d.writes#in all honesty though i do love phone swap and there were times when i had to put my phone down because the feelings got too intense#and some of the bits that i wrote years ago (because ps is 3 years old) resonate with my life rn too much#i planned addie's life before i lived out most of my own and it was like my life followed the events of addie's#even the first chapter i worked on since getting back to it this year resonates so intensely#and it's been planned since 2020#also it's quite interesting to see the creative progression of my writing style and quality#you can tell which parts were written when#although there is a drastic change between 2021 and 2022 whereas 2023 is similar to the previous year#which is partially why i'm procrastinating editing because i need to make the 2021 ones sound better to not be such a drastic difference#so i just keep writing new ones instead#i'm not making this official but my hope is to be able to update in the beginning of october#i've got over 20 prewritten chapters they just need to be edited so it's highly likely#i've also finally got some free time#and i want to finish ps before i get back to my novel which is hopefully for nanowrimo#but yeah!!! all things considered ps might be making a return if everything goes well#literally it gets so much better in the second half aka the one that hasn't been posted yet#and i know that i've probably lost the majority of the readers but if i wrote a whole ass novel without immediate gratification#then i don't need validation for ps either
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angrythingstarlight · 7 months
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Better Than Before
Summary: Bucky wants to erase every disappointing, unsatisfying experience you've had, starting with your first time. He plans on making sure this time is better than anything you ever had before.
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Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader
CW: Smut, Oral (fem rec), praise kink, hint of overstimulation kink, minors dni.
WC: 3.7k
AN: Beta'd by the lovely @flordeamatista.
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“You know that means you’re still a virgin.” 
His brazen remark coasts over the top of his bottle nestled in his right hand. Avoiding his perceptive gaze, you rest your head against his headboard and fight the urge to fidget across the sheets. God, you should have kept your mouth shut, should have known that he’d keep pulling on that thread until the truth came out, leaving you raw and exposed. 
Bucky wraps his fingers around your ankle, tugging once, twice. “None of that shit counts, you know that.” 
Maybe. 
Still, it doesn’t mean you know what to say or how to handle this—another tug interrupts your musings, instead your mind focuses on the feel of his hand smoothing over your ankle. A small, unworried part of you wonders why such rough, calloused fingers feel so good, so right on your skin. 
You shake the wayward thoughts off with a stern reminder that Bucky is your roommate–just your roommate. 
Not dropping your gaze from the TV across the room, you wonder if it would be easier to roll over and pretend to sleep until he gives up.
But this is Bucky.
He’s persistent.
And he’s firmly stuck on the whole orgasm thing. Or lack thereof.
And you’re in his room which makes escaping this conversation difficult. Freeing your ankle, he nudges your thigh with the end of his cold bottle, the wet condensation makes you flinch. 
“Tell me I’m wrong.” 
You’re not getting out of this. 
Sighing, you loll your head onto your shoulder, eyes flicking down to his. “Pretty sure that’s not how that works, Bucky. I’ve had sex.” 
He hums in his throat, dismissing your statement. He’s sprawled across his half of the sheets, one leg bent causing the end of his shorts to ride up, exposing his thick thigh. Your eyes drawn to the muscles flexing as he stretches. The low thrum of the tv swallowed by the deafening silence pulsating between you. 
Bucky takes a slow slip, polishing off the rest of his beer, intense blue eyes never leaving your face. The longer he stares, giving you that look, the warmer you get, heat fanning down your chest and settling between your thighs. You want to squeeze them together, needing to relive the ache unfurling inside you. A part of you knows if you do, he’ll know exactly what he’s doing to you. 
What he’s been doing to you for the past month.
It’s hard to tell the exact moment things changed between you and your roommate. But it's there. An unspoken thing that takes up more space than his hockey gear scattered across his floor. 
Maybe it was around the time he kicked your ex out after a particularly nasty fight or the night he held you when you finally got rid of the jackass. 
“C'mon plum, I know what you need,” he said, his eyes warm and empathic, not an ounce of pity to be found. He brought you to his room, gathered all two of his pillows and his blanket, wrapped you up, and made you watch every Fast and Furious movie he owns, the two of you spent the entire night debating the physics of a branch being able to support a car until you fell asleep. 
The next week, you made him watch your favorite chick flicks. He retaliated with a series of horror movies that left you both uneasy. 
Tonight it’s John Wick. 
The low bass floating from the speakers goes unnoticed. You’re not sure how the conversation led to this point. A casual question about if you’re going out tonight led to you scoffing that you didn’t feel like being disappointed again, he wrangled the truth out of you so slyly that you didn’t realize what you were admitting to until your confession spilled out, splattering between you. 
 Too late to go back now. 
“Like I said.” A smile flits across his pink lips, his tongue peeking out to catch a wayward drop before it slips away. Your eyes follow the slow, languid movements, his lips parting again. “If you didn’t enjoy it, if you don’t cum so hard you can’t hear for a good five seconds afterward, it doesn't count. Therefore You. Are. A. Virgin.” His words are emphasized by a squeeze on your calf. 
There’s a finality to his words like he’s never been more certain of anything in his life. In his eyes, it's a goddamn travesty that your loser of an ex couldn't do the bare minimum of getting you off. 
He’s not wrong. 
It definitely felt like it at the time. A few hasty, uncoordinated thrusts, one was it good for you, already on his side and half asleep before you could even think to answer. It became a pattern after that, one that left you unsatisfied, wondering if it was your fault while investing in toys that almost made up for his lack of attention. 
Another cold nudge brings you back to the present. Raising your brows, you glance at Bucky out of the side of your eye. “What?” 
He looks at you, something heady and indiscernible in his deep blue eyes. It makes your stomach drop and twist. A lazy smirk pulls at his lips, stretching across his bearded face. 
“I could change that. I’ll be your first Plum.” 
 You must have misheard. You blink. Slowly. His smirk widens, the 'ya heard' me evident in the way his gaze darkens. No, you did not. Turning your upper body, planting your elbow in the side of your pillow, you stare down at your roommate. “Huh?” 
“Huh, she says.” He chuckles softly under his breath. Bucky reaches behind him, his teal henley stretching across his broad chest, outlining the ridges of muscles hidden beneath, a hint of his dog tags peek through the top as he sets his empty bottle on the nightstand with a dull clack. He drops down, grabbing your pillow from under you and pushing it under his head. “You heard me.” 
Cheeky bastard. 
You inhale a shaky breath, glancing away from him. Your heart is beating too fast, you don’t think you can handle this conversation any longer. Bucky moves to his knees, the bed dipping under his weight. Smooth, cool fingers encircle your ankle again, his thumb sweeping back and forth. 
“If you want,” he starts the timbre of his voice, deep and smooth and casual as it sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps prickling across your skin. “I’ll show you how you should be treated. How a real man fucks. I’ll give you a real first time and make it so good you’ll never think of anyone else but me again.” His hand lifts your leg, bringing you to his mouth, barely touching your calf but the warmth of his lips sinks into you like a tattoo. “If you let me.” 
“I-” Your eyes widen, his drop to your chest, rising and falling, your nipples tightening, showing through the thin cotton of your shirt. 
You want this. Everything in you wants this. 
“Please let me.” It's the please that breaks you. His voice laced with desire and hunger for you. Followed by a slow sweep of his lips across your skin, chaining kiss after kiss up your thighs. A silent mantra imprinted by his lips. 
Please. 
Please. 
He sets your foot back on the bed, sliding it up until your knee is bent. He moves up your body, his hands on either side of your stomach, kiss after kiss, easing your shirt up until he’s at your breasts. “Will you let me take care of you the way you deserve? Let me make you feel good.” 
You nod, swallowing thickly. 
The corner of his lips lifts. “Words Plum. Need to hear you say it.” 
“I-yes.” 
He lowers himself onto you, the warmth of his abs melts into your soft stomach, his erection presses into your skin, hard and heavy. Hands braced next to your head as he lowers his face until his lips are hovering over yours. “Words, Plum.” His voice travels across your skin, the slight brush of his lips teasing you. “Need to hear you say it. Say you want me. I’ll give you anything you, all you have to do is ask.” 
The deep blue of his gaze pierces through you, he grins when you tentatively place your hands on the small of his back. “I want–want you Bucky.” He doesn’t move, his brow lifts expectantly, a burst of heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize what he’s waiting for, what he’s making you wait for. “Please fuck me,” you rush out before your nerves get the better of you. 
“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he breathes out, his lips slamming into yours. A frantic glide of his mouth over yours, his tongue delving into your mouth.
 Bucky wasn’t lying, he’s been craving to discover if you taste as sweet as you look. He is not disappointed. It’s not enough to satisfy his need for you but it takes the edge off his hunger. 
His lips slot over yours, devouring you once, twice before slowly turning into something languid and sweet. Savoring your kiss, his hand slips down to the curve of your waist and he drags you into him. His erection hardening against the thin layers of cotton separating you from him. 
Kisses chained down your face, across the smooth column of your throat, lacing down your chest as if he’s mapping his way across your body. Each press of his lips is a landmark he intends on coming back to again and again. His lips enclose around one taut nipple, gently scraping it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, his fingers plucking at your nipple, rolling it between his calloused fingers. “Bucky,” you choke out, a flare of pleasure shooting straight to your clit.
He kisses the growing wet spot on your panties, twisting them to the side to see your pussy, glistening and dripping. “This for me?” He murmurs, his greedy gaze skating up to your face. “Knew you’d be pretty everywhere Plum.” His praise sinks into your veins. His fingers curl under the band of your panties, easing them down your legs, he tosses them over his shoulder. 
His eyes drop to your pussy. 
“Been dreaming about this, Can’t believe I’m about to taste you,” he curses under his breath. You barely hear him over the dull roar in your ears, you don’t need to though, not with Bucky staring at your cunt like he wants to eat you whole. So he does. No warning. No teasing–he’ll save that for next time. He licks one thick stripe up through your folds.
“Oh–Bucky,” you keen, voice cracking as your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamp around his head. 
His tongue is so warm and wet and oh god–fuck that feels so good–when he drags the tip of his warm, wet tongue around your clit in a dizzying circle only to flatten it and drag it up in one firm motion. 
You don’t know if you want to cry out or grab the back of his head and beg for him to do that again. 
You do both. 
His name jumbled and broken on your lips. our heels dig into his back and you fist his hair, twisting the soft strands between your fingers as you roll your hips, pushing your pussy into his wicked mouth. 
As good as it is for you, it’s even better for him. 
You taste so sweet–he knew he was going to be addicted to you the second he saw you. He’s going to make up for every lackluster experience you’ve ever had and replace every disappointing memory with the ones he’s going to create for you. 
Bucky is going to treat you the way you should have been. He’s been waiting for the opportunity to show you how good it would be if you were his girl. 
Bucky slides his hands under your ass, lifting you to his face. He groans your name, the vibration of his deep voice sends another surge of sensations through you. Two fingers slip inside you, curling and thrusting to the frantic rhythm of his tongue. Pleasure winds tighter and tighter around you, dragging you down even as it borders on too much. 
Buicky feels you clench around him, the sounds of your moans spurring him on, his eyes locked on your face, watching your expression as you fall apart. Your mouth falling open on a sharp cry, your body tensing as your orgasm spirals wildly throughout you. 
This would be enough for you but Bucky isn’t done. Not when he has more to give you. 
You feel the soft press of his lips on your pulsing clit and then he pulls back, cool air replacing the warmth of his mouth. His face is drenched, your slick clinging to his beard. He runs his thumb across his lips, licking you off of him with a debauched groan. Quickly getting rid of his shorts, his cock springs free, lightly slapping his stomach. "I’m clean but I can grab a condom if you want. Either way, I can’t wait to feel you around me.”
“I’m on birth control and clean too.” You glance down,  pausing at his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “I want–” Bucky watches your eyes widen as he slowly strokes his cock, your gaze following his hand up his thick, hard length to the swollen tip shiny with beads of precum and he gets painfully harder. “I want to feel you. Just you.”
 “Grab the headboard,” he hoarsely demands. The second your fingers curl around the wooden frame, he’s tapping your sensitive clit with the head of his cock. Light jolts of sensations makes you whimper and he inhales sharply, eagerly anticipating all the ways he’s going to get you to make that sound again. “Ready for me plum?” 
“No,” you laugh out. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready for him. “Pretty sure you’re about to ruin me.” 
“Good, it’s only fair for what you’ve done to me,” he replies, pushing into you with a deep, sure stroke, filling you instantly. You’ll never forget the way his lips part on a quiet gasp, his eyes closing shut as your warm, tight walls surround him. 
Your own gasp echoes in the room. 
You are so full, so stretched, you’ve never been this full before, your lungs struggle to take in a breath. A slight burning spreads through you but it’s soon lost in the sensation of having him inside you. 
“Tell me when you’re ready,” he tells you, resting his weight on his forearms. “I’ll wait as long as you need.” 
He doesn’t move, holding himself above you. There’s no pressure, no worries that you’re taking too long or doing something wrong. The only way you know he’s affected is by the flush sweeping across his face, yet he doesn’t rush you, smiling down at you like he could wait forever. You swallow down the swell of emotion and taking a shaky inhale through your nose, you run your hands up and down his tattooed back, relaxing bit by bit around him until the sting fades, leaving only a faint pleasurable ache in its place. You tentatively rock your hips and–
Oh.
You do it again, taking more of him inside you.
Oh.
He’s so deep now. You didn’t think you could take him but now–now that’s all you want to do. 
“I’m ready.” 
Bucky eases out of you and immediately slams back into your pussy with a filthy, frantic swivel of his hips and you keen, unable to control the needy, indiscernible sound from spilling out. His pace escalates, and the wet slapslapslap of skin echoes in your ears. 
A steady thread of pleasure winds inside you.  
Bucky watches your face, waiting for you to tell him that he’s found what he's been looking for since his first stroke, his angle changing with every thrust. 
“C’mon, c’mon Plum, give it to me, let me have it, fuck, let–” he groans, then his swollen head grazes over a sensitive spot just right and your eyes roll back, a sob crawling up your throat. “There it is, that’s my girl.” His pace getting faster, driving his cock deeper into your pussy. “Gonna learn what you like, gonna discover everything this pretty little pussy needs, and give it to you.” 
Bucky bites your earlobe, groaning in your ear. “You want it fast and deep,” The bed creaking and groaning under your combined weights. He’s overwhelming your senses. Bucky is all you see. His cologne drifting around you. His warm, heavy weight on you. His soft, deep groans in your ear. 
You’re so close, you can feel it wrapping around the base of your spine, thick, hot pressure mounting higher,  threatening to pull you under again. “Yes yes,” you sob, grabbing his firm ass in your hands as he grinds deeper and deeper. “Fuck–”
“Mmmhm, don’t think I’m convinced Plum. Maybe you like it, slow and hard.” He pulls out until only the tip of him sits inside you, your walls clench down, trying to bring him back in
“Please,” you mindlessly beg, your fingers dig into his skin, desperately trying to pull him back down. No one has ever made you feel so incredible, you need him back inside you. You’d do anything he’d want right now. “‘m so close, please Bucky.” 
“Yeah, you are,” he says, a smug tilt to his tone. “You’re going to cum all over my cock, I promise plum.” He slides back in, inch by inch by inch, a languid, lazy roll of his hips, ensuring you feel each smooth ridge stretching your silken walls, brushing over that soft, sensitive spot. “Just tell me how you need it.” 
“I–shit, don’t stop,” you moan into the curve of his neck.
“I won’t. Not until you cum for me.” Bucky takes your hands in his, lacing his fingers through yours, the sweet gesture in dichotomy with the savage way he’s fucking you. “Gonna give you what you deserve plum.” 
As the last word leaves his lips, your orgasm crashes into you, and blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, searing through your veins as its pulses deep in your belly. 
Oh god, you get it now. It’s so good–he’s so good.  
More than you expected. Tears leak out of your eyes, rolling down the sides of your face. 
“One more,” breathed into the side of your throat, kissing your sweat-laced skin. 
“I don’t know if I—” 
“Yeah, you can. Don’t tell me you can’t when I can feel your pretty pussy gripping like she doesn’t want to let go. She needs this. Greedy little thing needs to cum again.” Bucky doesn’t slow down, without breaking his pace, he leans back and lets go of your hands, lifting your hips up. The sudden change prolongs your orgasm, another creeping up. “You got another for me.  Play with your clit” he hoarsely demanded, his gaze torn between watching your pussy swallow his cock, glistening with your slick juices and your beautiful face contorted with pleasure. 
“Good girl,” he praises when your fingers slide down your belly and sweep across your clit, fast circles that push you closer to your peak. “That’s my good fucking girl.
His hands slide up your back and he pulls you up until you’re sitting on his lap, your arms winding around his neck, you hold on dropping your forehead on his shoulder as he fucks up into your cunt. Bucky takes your chin in his hand, tilting your head back. “Look at me, let me see your pretty eyes.” 
You struggle to pry your eyes open, clenching down at the sight of his darkened gaze, only a thin rim of blue visible in his lust-blown pupils. “You’re going to cum for me. Just one more and you’re gonna make a mess all over my cock. Bucky brings your face close to his and he grins. “Those other ones were yours but this one is mine and I want it.”
 His voice, desperate and hoarse, tips you over the edge, only this one doesn’t slam into you like before, it creeps up on you, the knot unraveling slowly until you’re consumed. More tears spill out. A sob tears from your throat, and a litany of BuckyBuckyBucky rolls off your tongue. 
“I got ya, I got ya pretty girl. That’s it, knew you could cum for me. S’proud.” Biting his lip, his chest heaving as you grip him so sweetly, he doesn’t want to stop fucking you, doesn’t want to pull out. Bucky is already making plans for you, one that involves keeping you wrapped around him for the rest of the weekend. In his bed, your bed, on the kitchen counter, and a few times in the shower.
He lets go, dropping his weight onto you, fucking you into the mattress. Bucky takes your chin, turning your face towards him, kissing you, warmth filling you as he cums,  his hips jerking erratically once, twice. A small part of you preens—feeling him lose control is nearly as good as hearing him moan your name. Knowing you’re the one to do that to him is even better. 
Bucky rolls over, taking you with him. His large hands sweep up and down your back. "How was that?" he asks genuinely. 
“Incredible. That was–,” you blow out a breath, “better than I expected.”
He smiles softly. “Yes, you are, “ he murmurs, holding you close to his chest. “I had to go easy on you because it was your first time and all,” Bucky says, scrunching his nose. “Next time though, I won’t hold back.” 
Your brows furrow and you gesture at your still-joined bodies. “That was holding back?” Bucky laughs, the rich sound vibrates through your chest. “Wait. No–you were holding back?
“There’s a lot of things I’m going to do to you. That was just a sample of what you can have. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” The hopeful glint in his expression steals your breath. “You will though. If you want me, I’m all yours. All you have to do is say yes and I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Yes, Bucky.” You don’t hesitate, not even embarrassed by how quickly it rolls off your tongue.  It’s not every day that you have Bucky Barnes between your thighs and you’re not about to pass up the opportunity to be his girl. Crossing your arms across his chest, you look down at him and match his grin with your own. “But let's talk about this holding back thing. Because if that was you holding back, I’m pretty sure the next time is going to destroy me.” 
He leans up, his hand curving around your jaw as he kisses you again. When he pulls back, there’s a cocky smirk pulling at his lips. 
"Oh, I plan on it." 
6K notes · View notes
gutsby · 27 days
Text
Homemade
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Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.
Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.
Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.
Part of the Waiting Game series
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“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”
Joel knew you meant it, too.
The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.
Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.
It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.
“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.
“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”
Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.
You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.
“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.
You rolled your eyes.
“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.
Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.
“JOEL!”
Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:
“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.
You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.
Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.
“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”
The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.
“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”
You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.
Literally.
You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.
The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.
“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”
“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 
Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.
He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.
“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”
“Yup.”
Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.
“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.
“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.
Then you pulled off.
“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.
“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.
It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.
As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.
“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”
Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”
You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.
Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.
“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”
Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.
He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.
“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.
You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.
“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”
He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.
“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”
With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.
“Get on the bed.”
You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.
“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.
In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.
When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.
“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”
You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.
“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”
That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.
Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.
Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.
Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.
You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.
He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.
“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.
Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.
“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”
Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.
“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”
It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.
Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?
Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.
The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.
Or another minute, it seemed.
You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.
“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”
Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.
No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.
You shivered and started to push Joel away.
“Can we maybe just—”
“Sweetie?!”
Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.
“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.
“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.
You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.
Your dad was caring like that.
He just never knew the right times to show up.
No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.
That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.
You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.
“I thought I saw a spider.”
“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”
The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.
“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”
Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’
“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.
Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.
Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.
You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”
Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”
An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.
Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.
“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”
“Okay.”
You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.
The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed.
“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.
Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?
“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”
Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.
You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.
Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.
He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.
“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”
Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”
Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.
Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.
Maybe.
Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.
“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”
The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.
Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.
Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.
Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.
At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.
You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.
You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.
“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”
You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.
Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”
You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.
When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.
“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.
“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.
“Thank you, what?”
Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.
“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.
“Say it again.”
“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.
Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.
To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.
You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.
“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.
“You, daddy.”
“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”
“You, daddy.”
Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.
He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.
You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.
Water.
It wasn’t on your back anymore.
It was fanning between your legs.
Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.
“Try it one more time.”
You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.
You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.
“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”
Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.
“D-D-D—”
Damn, you sounded stupid.
“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.
In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.
“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”
Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,
“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”
“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”
But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,
“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”
Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,
“Daddy!”
Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.
You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”
In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.
“One more, sweet pea.”
“Joel—”
“And say it louder this time.”
Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.
Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:
“DADDY!”
You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.
Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.
The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.
“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.
“I—”
“Are you hurt?”
Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.
You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.
Your dad was still there.
The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.
You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.
“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”
“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”
That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.
Then he sighed.
“Alright.”
Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.
Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.
Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.
But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.
Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.
Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,
“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”
3K notes · View notes
cryptotheism · 11 months
Text
Lilly: Good morning New Babel, you're listening to Screw Loose, your favorite early-morning exo rig and rig maintenance rig show this side of the white river, I'm Lilly.
The Bear: And I'm the Bear, and you- are on the air. What can we help you with?
Caller: Hello! Hi! So, uh, first time caller. My name is Zuri. I run a barley and flesh farm about an hour south of Isin. I'm in the market for a new rig. My last rig kicked the bucket. But I have an, uh, odd request that I was hoping you two could help give me some guidance on.
The Bear: Welcome to the show doll, we'd be happy to help. But first, I gotta ask, what were you running before and what happened to it?
Lilly: Yeah! We gotta know what we're dealing with here.
Zuri [beginning to laugh]: So we had an Arcadia Y-400-
[both hosts erupt into laughter]
Lilly: And it broke!?
The Bear: Doll what in the hell did you do to this thing!?
Zuri: [laughing] Listen! Listen! It was my grandfathers! We had been replacing parts on this thing since before I was born! It was its time!
The Bear: Lilly, is she dodging the question?
Lilly: I think she's dodging the question, Bear.
The Bear: Okay okay, so what exactly did you do to destroy this extraordinary museum piece?
Zuri: [laughing] Oh gosh I don't want to say it now.
[The hosts erupt with encouragement]
Zuri: My sons will play this game, where I'll be out working in the field. You know, rigged up, focusing on tilling. They'll sneak up behind me with their rigs on, jump up, curl up into a little ball, and try to lock themselves to my back-jack in the cargo position...
[The hosts are howling with laughter]
Zuri: They're- They're damn good at it too! My oldest, Zair, can do it in on solid motion. Its like one moment I'm minding my own business, the next moment I have a whole kid in a 100 pound work rig locked to my back!
Lilly: What a riot! Oh this is just dangerous to put on the air.
The Bear: Ahem, to all the parents at home we apologize in advance, please don't sue us.
Zuri: So- So one day- One day my youngest tries it, but he doesn't twist around fast enough, and the aux battery on the left arm clips an exposed spinal neurohelix. Zap! Neuros are fried. My legs and arms lock straight like stilts! Now I'm swearing up a storm, you know- "You little rats!" But I'm hobbling like a circus performer trying to chase em down and they're just dying. Musta been the funniest damn thing they've ever seen.
[The hosts continue to laugh uproariously at this]
The Bear: Doll we gotta get to advice part of the show or the network is gonna give YOU a show.
Lilly: What a way to go! You hit an aux to the spinal braid? That's fried. Done. Kaput. You gotta scrap that thing.
Zuri: Yeah, we've already gutted it. Old girl is rusting in the barn for parts now. Zair is a whiz, so I'm hoping he can get some good use out of it.
The Bear: So we hear you're looking for a new rig?
Lilly: What's your price point love?
Zuri: We've got a good chunka cash built up. We're looking at something in the 600 to 700 washer range.
The Bear: That's pretty good for a work rig. You've got a lot of choices.
Lilly: I have a sneaking suspicion that this price point has something to do with your special request?
Zuri: So, my oldest, Zair. I recently learned that he's been uh. Well gosh now I'm embarrassed about this too!
The Bear: Doll c'mon don't hold out on us!
Lilly: You called, we can handle it!
Zuri: I learned that Zair had been using the Arcadia to race on the weekends. He and some of the local kids would run street races at night. He's been rigging a grapple harness to the waist-jack, and stripping it before I need the rig for monday morning.
[The hosts laugh at this, though not as hard]
Lilly: Ha! So what you're saying is you want the biggest, slowest, beached-whale rig you can get? Something just impossible to race?
The Bear: I'm thinking an HR&R Pauldron, Heavy Industrial. With that type of money you can get the new 900 series. Ask for the high-stability option-
Zuri: No no! No you don't understand! The damn kid keeps placing last because he's been racing in a junker! What I'm lookin' for is something I can use as a work rig for the days, that's easy to strip and good to race on the weekends. I want it safe, you hear me? I can't stop this kid from racing, so I might as well get something that'll keep his skull together.
[The hosts explode into laughter again]
Lilly: You! You're a good mom! What I wouldn't give for a mom like you!
The Bear: Ma'am, one day, when I grow up, I wanna be like you. I wanna be that typea mom.
Zuri: So, can you help me?
[The hosts can be heard stage whispering for a moment, followed by the sound of cracking knuckles.]
The Bear: Okay. You've got a lot of good options here. My friend here wants you to get a sport rig, but that's not gonna have the torque you need for farmwork: Here's what you're gonna do-
Lilly: Would to! Have you seen what the Roadrunner 600 can do? Six point neuro uplink! Eighty pneumatic helices per leg! Tell me that's not good enough to rig a plow!
The Bear: The dirt Lil! We need solid-body articulation! Using a pneumo-helix for farmwork is like pouring sand into clockwork!
Lilly: You replace the dermis with a synthetic sheathe! I get no respect around here!
The Bear: Zuri, doll, here's what you're gonna do: You're gonna go to your local Post Office outpost. You're gonna ask if they have any old courier shipping rigs. You want middlegrade. Ask specifically if they have an Albatross W-500, or if you're lucky, an LH-640. These are long-haul light-load shipment rigs. They're ugly, but they're sturdy as hell, built for carrying things long distances through rough terrain.
Lilly: The kicker here is that they're both light-combat certified. Built-in medical and shock response treatment. You'll need to replace the medical gel canisters every few months to make sure they're fresh... And if a certain someone wanted to maybe engage in a little bit of light illegal street racing...
The Bear: Well the Albatross line is built to be constantly refitted for different weathers and terrains. So someone, not saying who, might have a real easy time stripping the plating for speed. That sound good doll?
Zuri: That sounds perfect, thank you so much girls!
The Bear: Perfect! Thank you for the call, you'll have to tell us how it goes!
Lilly: Please love we beg you! Call again! Toodle-oo!
Zuri: Thank you again!
[The caller hangs up, the show transitions into a commercial break]
5K notes · View notes
charliemwrites · 2 months
Text
Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.
I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.
CW for ✨spice✨
You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.
That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.
But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.
You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.
On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.
When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.
“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.
Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”
And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)
At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.
The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.
You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.
“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”
Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.
“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.
“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”
Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.
Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.
On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.
At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.
“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.
Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.
He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.
The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.
You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.
“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.
“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”
You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.
There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.
He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.
“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”
Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.
You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.
He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.
“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.
He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.
He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.
He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.
“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”
You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.
“Talk to me?” he asks.
“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”
He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”
You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.
“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.
You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.
He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.
“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.
You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.
“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.
You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”
“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”
Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.
He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”
It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.
One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.
Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.
“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.
Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.
Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.
He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.
“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”
Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.
“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”
You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?
“Wait, but I already…”
“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”
You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”
“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”
You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”
“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.
You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.
“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”
You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”
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vulcanhello · 1 year
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#i thought the genome stuff was wicked interesting and the reveal of how it corrupted the scientist who abused it was awesome. its literally#awesome its one of my favorite things ever its so nasty and scary but i am not planning on reading whatever tf vanguard is so it as someone#whos being introduced to the concepts thru this book i understood it and honestly really enjoyed it#i love spock and chekov and sulu and they were our main starfleet characters which was great even if kirk and mccoy were barely in it and#didnt really do anything when they were. which was fine. i liked kirks little drama over matt decker bc thats one of my fav episodes so i#liked his and mccoys one conversation about it#but my favorite part of this whole fucking book was the KLINGONS#and thats BIG for me to say because usually im bored or even skip klingon pov chapters if i dont like them#there have been very few klingons who are good in these books but mara and her strike team are my absolute favs#and obviously mara isnt an oc shes in the original series but in this shes so fleshed out as are the other klingons that their chapters were#the best to me. its their determination and their good humor and their sense of whats right that i find really interesting#but there were some things i didnt like!#for example. we did not need an army of npc natives for spock & crew to slay so gruesomely it was actually gross#i was also uncertain if the natives were under actual mind control or just more scared of the godhead (cthulu guy) than they were of#starfleet and the klingons idk i just didnt like it. i think the godhead was insane enough on its on that the rows and rows of noname#nopersonality infantrymen was completely unnecesary#looking back when i reread this itll definitely just be from the time spock&co land on the planet to the time they leave#i really felt like mccoy and spock shouldve had some sort of conversation at the end as well#where kirk is endlessly pretty hopeful over things (as much as he broods in this book lol im talking in general) mccoy is much more likely#to agree with spock (in his own way). spock would go to him like Doctor. i have recently found that some things are inherently evil and#cannot be saved and that sometimes the only way out of a situation is to commit horribly unethical violence against living beings and mccoy#would be like i know whatyou mean spock sometimes jim makes me use the transporter#trek books
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