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#tag blurb
thinger-strang · 1 year
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just realized that billy either bought max the michael myers mask or took her to go get it; do you think susan or neil would have let max leave the store with that????? no that fully had to be billy
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stevebabey · 4 months
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have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3
Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.
In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.
Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.
She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.
And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.
So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?
The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.
So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.
Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.
Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.
7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.
This was his Friday night plans.
His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—
“Hi.”
Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.
Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.
Holy shit, this dude was hot.
He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.
He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.
“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.
God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?
The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.
Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?
“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.
He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.
The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.
“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.
“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”
“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.
Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”
Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.
“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”
He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—
“Can I get you two started with anything?”
The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.
“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.
“What? Not a milkshake man?”
Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”
Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”
Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.
“Did you just order for me?”
“Did you just diss milkshakes?”
Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.
“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.
“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”
Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.
“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”
Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.
“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”
Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?
Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.
“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.
The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.
Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.
Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”
Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.
The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.
Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.
"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"
His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.
"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."
Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.
"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."
Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.
Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.
"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."
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rafeandonlyrafe · 24 days
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proper thank you
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words: 600
warnings: 18+ only!, stepbro!rafe, sending nudes, stepcest, kinda dumb/baby reader???
“carry me up to bed rafey?” you coo at your step brother, fluttering your lashes as your pout turns into a giggle when he sighs, unable to resist your pleading face.
“you're the most annoying little sis ever.” rafe says, calling you the nickname just to tease you as he leans down, scooping you into his arms. he carries you like you weigh nothing, so easily slotting into the good older stepbrother role when your parents married, despite him being only a few months older than you.
“thank you rafey.” you say sweetly as he walks you up the stairs, your arms holding him around the shoulders, head leaned against his broad chest.
“yeah, you gotta give me a better thank you than that.” rafe rolls his eyes as he carries you into your bedroom. only once the door is closed do you press a wet kiss to his cheek as a proper thank you.
rafe plops you down on the bed unceremoniously. “there ya go.” he waves as he walks away, knowing it's not actually goodnight as you let out a whine.
“tuck me in?”
rafe hides his smirk before turning around, putting on his slightly annoyed act like he always does when you ask him.
rafe pulls the fluffy blanket out from under you. it's slightly weighted so it naturally tucks around your body anyways as rafe covers you, but his hands still move slowly, feeling your body as he pushes in the blanket until you're stuck tight underneath it.
“anything else? want me to tell you a bedtime story?” rafe says it as a joke, but with the way your eyes light up, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, recounting three little pigs from memory the best he can.
“alright, you gotta get to bed now.” rafe glances at the clock on your nightstand as the hour hand ticks closer to midnight. “goodnight.”
“goodnight rafey.” you smile softly before letting out a yawn. “ill give you a proper thank you soon.”
rafe isn't sure what you mean until he makes it back to his room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone until a text message appears from you.
he clicks it to open up the image, his eyes widening and dick swelling as he sees you in a silky nightgown, the swell of your breasts clearly visible, nipples poking through the fabric. he recognizes the nightgown from a few days ago, but you clearly got further undressed.
rafes eyes bulge as the next image loads, the same pose, now sans nightgown, tits bare and thighs clenched together to make a delicious looking v that rafe wants to dive into.
a proper thank you ;) reads your text, along with one last image, this time with your legs spread, smile on your face as your cunt is on clear display. you took the marker tool to add to your lower stomach “property of big brother.”
rafe is in your room untucking you from your bed before the clock reaches midnight.
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut
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heartfullofleeches · 2 months
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"Is...this is really.... milk?"
Lifting the glass, you stir the cloudy liquid at its bottom with the straw so graciously provided by the hybrid - alarm belts ringing at the back of your mind due to how fluidly the tool moved through it. You heard coconut milk was on the thicker, creamer end of the spectrum compared to other types of milk, but it still seemed just a bit too runny to actually be the described drink offer to you. The smell was somewhat off as well. More pungent than the slightly sweet fragrance of fresh coconut.
You look towards Rotten Milk for an answer who was too preoccupied with fixing their belt to meet your gaze. Feeling the weight of your stare, they finally glance over at you - cheeks flushed and skin damp with sweat.
"Why don't you try a sip and see for yourself?"
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scuderiahoney · 4 months
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Glad You’re Here
Oscar Piastri x insomniac!reader // Tangerine Pt. 1.5
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Masterlist // Tangerine Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2
It’s been raining where I live this week and I couldn’t get this version of Oscar and reader out of my head. So, here you go- a little companion blurb from Oscar’s POV.
Word Count: 1.1k
find my other fics here, including the original one for this blurb!
Warnings: none
Oscar loves sleep. He could sleep anywhere, could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. It’s been an issue, actually- he habitually snoozes through alarms and constantly naps when he should be doing more important things.
It’s been an adjustment, dating you, because of that. It’s not that you don’t like sleep, you just… can’t. Honestly, it breaks his heart, because while tumbling into his bed at the end of the day is a relief for him, for you, it’s the opposite.
He’s watched you get worked up with exhaustion to the point of tears far too many times. He wishes he could take it all away, that he could reach deep into your brain and press the magic button that would let you sleep. You’ve tried lots of things- chamomile tea, melatonin, warm baths, hot milk and honey, but nothing seems to help.
That is, until Brazil.
It’s the end of a triple header, which is exhausting in its own way. You’re dragging, have been for days. He can see it in your eyes when you give him the update before qualis, can see the way it pulls at the corners of your lips. He wants to wrap you up in a hug and hold you there until you get so bored you fall asleep- though that doesn’t work, either. But the two of you are in public, surrounded by coworkers, so he refrains.
Dark clouds roll in over the track and cut the session short, which is less than ideal. Oscar climbs out of his car, frowning when he notices you’re missing from your usual spot in the garage. It’s odd, but not impossible. You could be in the bathroom, could be in a meeting- he’s not sure.
When he’s made it through his debrief and you’re still not back- which is odd since you’re a part of his team- he starts to get worried. Finally, he asks, trying to sound casual about it. It’s not necessarily a secret that the two of you are dating- the important people know, important being your bosses. He leans towards one of your closer coworkers, asks them if they know where you are.
“Oh, she left, I think,” she says, and Oscar feels even more concerned. “She said she didn’t sleep well last night, I think she wasn’t feeling good.”
Oscar blinks, rubs his thumb against his knee under the table. It’s odd that you wouldn’t have texted him before you left. He wonders if you went to your hotel room or his, feels a stab in his chest at the thought of you all alone and not feeling well. Not sleeping well the night before is an understatement- he knows you didn’t sleep at all, actually. You’d stayed in his room and read a book, a little light to read by and his head in your lap.
Once they dismiss him to head to the hotel, he beelines for his driver room to gather his stuff. Lando’s trying to make small talk on the way there, and when Oscar opens the door he’s following behind him. Oscar stops in his tracks, though, and Lando bumps into him, opening his mouth to make a comment when Oscar raises his hand and shushes him.
You’re there, curled up on the massage bed, tightly wound. You’re asleep.
“Oh,” Lando whispers. “I’ll go.”
Oscar nods, closes the door, walks over carefully. Your lips are barely parted, lashes tangled together, arms curled protectively around yourself. He watched the soft rise and fall of your shoulders, absolutely entranced.
The thing is, Oscar doesn’t actually see you sleep very often. When it does happen, you usually fall asleep after him, and then you wake up before him.
All of the tense energy is gone from your body. Your hair has fallen into your face, a strand across your lips that moves with every breath you take. He’s pretty sure you’re wearing one of his hoodies. You look so soft, like you’ve melted into the massage table. He wants to curl himself around you, into you, keep you close and warm and safe.
He sends Lando a text, asks him to knock quietly when the car to the hotel is ready. Then he locks the door and crosses the room. He’s so careful when he climbs onto the makeshift bed with you. He takes it inch by inch until he’s got you under one arm, his chin on top of your head. He doesn’t dare pull you close like he’d really like to, afraid of waking you up-
“Osc?” You say, voice soft.
He curses himself out in his head. He shouldn’t have risked it, should’ve just let you sleep, should’ve known this would happen. You’re going to kill him, probably- the one time you fall asleep easily, and here he is, ruining it.
“Sorry, baby,” he says, sighing. “You looked so cozy, I just thought- I didn’t mean to wake you.”
In response, you wrap one of your arms around him and pull yourself into his chest. Your cold nose brushes his neck, lips against his collarbone. You yawn and turn your face so that your cheek is pressed to his chest.
“S’okay, m’glad you’re here.” you mumble. “The storm made me sleepy.”
The rain is still pelting the side of the garage, sending the sound through the room. Every so often, there’s the distant sound of thunder. He wonders if a sound machine would help you sleep, tucks it away into his brain to try later. Right now, he brushes his lips against the crown of your forehead and rubs your back.
He opens his mouth to say something again, but then he feels it- your grip on him loosens, and your soft, even breaths wash over his neck. He pulls his head back just slightly, finds your eyes closed and your lips parted once again. You’re adorable when you’re sleeping. The relaxed look on your face makes his heart clench in his chest. He keeps rubbing your back lightly, afraid that if he’s stops you’ll wake up again.
He’s not tired, but he stays anyways. He stays and watches you sleep, even if it’s mildly creepy, even if Lando will definitely make fun of him for it if he ever finds out. He doesn’t know how long your sleep will last, so he’ll cherish every second of it.
On the car ride back to the hotel, he buys a sound machine off of Amazon. You try it the next time you can’t sleep. It doesn’t work. He waits until then to tell you the truth.
He absolutely hates thunderstorms.
a/n: thank you for all the love on the original fic!!
taglist: @4-mula1
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idyllcy · 8 months
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please? - jaime reyes x reader (nsfw warning)
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Jaime pants, one brow furrowed, sweat dripping down his hair as he cages you in, lips pressed to yours feverishly, whimpering. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks you, sound of the bed creaking as he does. He's sure Khaji Da's mentioning his dopamine and endorphins levels are off the charts alongside his quickened heartbeat, but you're just so irresistible when you're whimpering his name like that. Besides, it's a great stress reliever and post-fight reward. Ugh. He pauses slightly, pushing his hair back as you exhale shakily.
"What? Tired already, mi amor?" You hum, lips quirked upward, expression changing as he thrusts into you again. 
"You're really chatty, mi vida." Jaime mumbles. "Maybe if you didn't look so good, I wouldn't stop to admire your beauty so often."
Jaime looks down as you clench on him from the compliment.
"You're such a womanizer, mi amor." You mumble. 
"Only you get to hear things like this." He hums, thumb finding your clit as he starts again, slower this time, holding you down as he forces you to feel every inch of you, eyes enamored as he watches himself disappear into you slowly, holding you down so you can't squirm.
"Jaime." You gasp. "Please."
"Please what, mi vida? You know you have to say it." He smiles cheekily.
"Harder? Please?" You try, voice coming out weak. 
"Of course." He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye. "All you had to do is ask."
and Jaime loves gently, a reminder that he was affectionate with you no matter the situation, skin pressed to yours, lips pressed to yours, fingers laced with yours— he was yours from the inside out.
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starch1ldz · 17 days
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Spencer Reid and his non bau partner. He always let's you know when he'll be home, especially if he'll be very late, sometimes he gets in at 4 am and he knows you'll be asleep, but the living room light is always on so he doesn't come in and stumble over something in his exhaustion and urgency to get to bed where you're asleep waiting for him.
It started off a few weeks into you living with him, he tripped over one of the many pairs of shoes kept by the front door and made a bit of a ruckus. It gave you a heart attack and you came out of the bedroom with the gun your father had insisted you have thats kept in the safe with Spencer's own gun and his credentials. When you realize it's him you sigh and lower the pistol, flicking the safety on, as you level him with an accusatory look.
He laughs nervously. “Sorry, love.” he mumbles as he slips off his beat up converse, pushing them into place next to yours.
You roll your eyes, but it's all good natured as you pull him into a hug, setting the gun down on the table where your house keys go for the time being. “It's alright, next time tell me when you're coming home and I'll leave a light on.” You say softly, as you press a kiss to his lips.
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The Revenant Wife
Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of grief and death. 
Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 
Word count: 1.6k
Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk​ <3
Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories​ @thesadvampire​ @joel-mlller @softanon​ @max--phillips​ @captainsamwlsn​ @hooplahoopla​ @moondirti​ 
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Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife. 
Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all. 
She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more. 
“You’re married?”
She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters. 
“I was.” 
There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps- 
“What was she like?” 
But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings. 
“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile. 
Damn this girl. 
“Not even from you?” 
Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away. 
“Did she cook?” 
Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning. 
Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise. 
“From time to time.” 
There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with. 
Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved.   Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both. 
In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work. 
But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to. 
Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through  the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family. 
Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father. 
Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends. 
When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights. 
You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.
You’re mean. 
No. Mean isn’t the right word. 
Cold. Yes. you're very cold. 
Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak. 
She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do. 
You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face. 
You’re also very pretty.
“I won’t ask again.” 
The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them. 
She wonders if Sarah had brothers. 
“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.” 
Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air. 
“That true?” “What?” 
“Is he telling the truth?” 
The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you. 
But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene. 
And she understands. 
“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out. 
You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie. 
But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder. 
“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit. 
She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward. 
“You know this psycho?” 
Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react. 
Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why. 
“She’s my wife.”
You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them. 
Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation. 
But this one is real. It’s yours. 
 There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”
Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her. 
“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-” 
Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-” 
“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.” 
You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him. 
But at your order, he sits back in his chair. 
You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder. 
At least. She thinks he’s your son. 
Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods. 
“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.” 
They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement. 
“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”
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spideyhexx · 1 month
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2 am thoughts with kit:
riding coryo desperately, to the point he’s so enthralled with you, he can barely think. His hands are on you. Your hips, your breasts, your sides, they wander but his hands are so tingly with anxious excitement, he barely can focus on really touching you. His mouth is parted and his curls are tousled, he’s not even doing most of the work and his forehead and hairline is sweating. His gaze watches where you connect to him, watching you take his cock with every movement you give, and he gives some experimental thrusts up against you to hear you whine but you push on his chest and suddenly he’s completely melting under the control you have. And when he gets closer to his orgasm, his gaze shifts to your face, unable to look away from how pleasured you look, that his cock is doing that to you and the moment you mutter, “love your cock so much,” to him, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he comes hard, pressing himself up against you to make sure you take all he has, not caring that your nails are digging into his chest. And the pride…the ego Coryo has when his orgasm is what triggers yours? That’s how he takes back control.
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carmyboobear · 1 month
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ANON (COVERS MY FACE) this embarrassed me but also SO inspired me. You’re a genius. Please take this
Tags: MDNI🔞, dom carmy, fingering,  dirty talk!!!, spitting
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So I’ve been thinking about Carm propping you up on a table a lot recently, spreading your legs and exposing you to him. In this scenario I think the two of you were watching a movie, but you were more focused on him—cuddling up close to him, touching him, kissing him…And I think he had enough. 
“Why’re you so wet, hm?” Carmy’s dragged you to the edge of the table. He’s sitting at one of the chairs, pulled up close. One of his hands is rubbing up and down one of your bare legs. The other is at your pussy, parting your folds delicately with his fingers. 
“‘Cause of you, Carm,” you admit, because you know it’s what he wants to hear. It works like a charm. 
“‘Cause of me?” The broad surface of his thumb dips against your entrance, coating itself in the wetness that collected there. “That’s what’s got you leaking, baby?” You nod quickly, and he hums in approval. “That’s my girl…”
He brings his hand to his mouth, sucks your fluid off his thumb. When he brings it back down, coated in spit, it’s slick against slick. His long fingers just keep stroking at your pussy, smearing your wetness everywhere, teasing and rubbing your folds until they’re hot and puffy.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me,” he murmurs. His other hand’s left your thigh to tug up at the hood of your clit, jutting it out for him to touch. He brings his wet thumb to stroke slippery circles over your hard nub, and you keen, hips jutting forward. “This pretty pink pussy…you’re so soft, baby.”
“D-Don’t say that—” His words broil in your gut and make your clit throb against his circling thumb. “Fuck—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he says darkly, his index and thumb suddenly pinching and rolling at your clit, and you gasp, throwing your head back as your body tightens. “This pussy belongs to me, and that’s exactly how you like it, don’t you?”
“C-Carm—” His pinching fingers are massaging your clit harder. You can barely speak. 
“You’re mine, and I’ll say whatever I like about what belongs to me.” You try to respond, but only weak moans come out. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll make you come.”
“Please,” you beg, but it’s not enough. 
“Tell me who this perfect pussy belongs to,” he says again. His blue eyes are dark. “I won’t say it again.”
“I-It—it belongs to you, Carmy,” you whimper, but his expression remains unfazed, dissatisfied. “My pussy—my pretty pussy,” you amend, cheeks burning, and that’s what finally satiates him. 
“Good girl,” he whispers, “good fucking girl.” 
He sinks two thick, long fingers into you, and it feels like a release. You moan as you squeeze down on them, trying to suck them back in every time they drag back. His other hands uses two fingers to part your folds around your clit. You feel it throb in the open air. 
When he leans forward, you think he’s going to suck on it, but then you feel hot spit hitting your clit. 
“All mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His fingers return, flicking your clit brutally from side to side, and alongside the fingers deep in your pussy, you’re wound up so tight you swear you’re gonna snap. 
“Carmy,” you moan, sweet and desperate. Your legs are trembling. “I’m gonna come,” you sob.
“I know, baby. Be good and come all over my fingers for me, yeah?” His quick fingers smack against your pussy with every thrust, the sounds wet and clear. “God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous down here…and it’s all mine, isn’t it, pretty girl?”
“All yours, Carm,” you gasp, and you’re gushing all over his fingers. Your orgasm is a tidal wave bottled up in the container of your body, thrashing on your insides. His nimble fingers keep rubbing and thrusting in you as you come, relentless as you tighten and throb against him. 
“Perfect,” he hums, and he keeps his fingers moving. You have a feeling he’s not gonna let you go until your wetness is dripping onto the floor.
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crazyforhwa · 9 months
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Between hard and soft hours tbh but I really can’t stop thinking about a lazy make out session with Seonghwa… with lots of tongue obviously because come on, it’s Seonghwa.
It’d feel so amazing to just have a whole make out session with him, hands on each other’s face or neck.. and maybe an other member (*cough* Choi San) witnessing it and ending up joining the fun……
✩LAZY MAKE OUT SESSIONS WITH SEONGHWA✩
anon, that's so fucking hot.. (seonghwa is just hot yk)
I feel like lazy make out sessions with him usually happen during gloomy or winter days, as he thinks it feels the most romantic that way. He would be the one to initiate them by doing seemingly innocent things that end with him pushing his tongue past your lips in no time.
It would be such a mess, the perfect contrast between lust and love. Just two bodies laying on the bed, some rnb music playing quietly in the background to spice up the mood.
I feel like he's the 'breathy moans' type of guy. Whining into your mouth, describing how much he desires you.. that's what he's into. He isn't afraid of letting out sounds, and he expects you to let out some too, especially when other members are around. It definitely makes him hard as a rock, knowing that his colleagues are listening.
And oh boy.. talking about exhibitionism, I feel like he would purposely leave his door not fully closed, BEGGING in his mind that somebody(ehem, San) would catch you guys in the act. And don't even start on joining. I don't think he would be 100% comfortable with every member, but he would definitely share you with San, Hongjoong or Wooyoung (boy would be already close just by seeing them play with you).
We all have seen that fucking tongue of his. it's long, pointy, and he knows how to use it. he constantly sticks it out during performances, so I imagine him to be an absolute freak. He wins every battle for dominance, even at such slow paced moments.
Spit. SPIT. He loves when your make out sessions are messy, long strings of saliva forming whenever he detaches his plump lips from yours. He would randomly pull away just to stick his tongue out and let his spit slowly drip into your mouth, quickly getting back to business after.
Let's also mention that not every make out session with him is just lips. Oh no no, he is paying attention to everything. Sometimes he lowers himself and plants soft pecks against your neck. Sometimes he gently bites your earlobe, his warm breath tickling your skin. And sometimes he just smothers your whole face with smooches, grinning while he does so. He is a man of passion, but in these moments he just loves to chill out and show you love in a slightly different way.
Oh, and that smirk of his. He would grab different parts of your body unexpectedly, making you let out soft gasps that would trigger his cocky smile. Sometimes it'd be an innocent booty grab, but one second later his hand is slowly sliding under your shirt, his warm fingers exploring your body, getting closer to the sensitive areas on your chest.
After about half an hour, he will lose the ability to think straight. His hand would slide into your pants and quickly find your opening, slowly forcing two fingers into your tight hole. He would hit every sweet spot while still kissing you, getting "annoyed" and spanking you every time you get distracted by the pleasure.
Oh, yes.
I love him, man😭😭😭😭
should I make it a fic? 👀 (I feel like this is way too short, I'm sorry)
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thinger-strang · 2 years
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reverse au where argyle is the one who moves up to hawkins and becomes the lifeguard that summer and billy is the one who stays in california and ends up becoming the byers shitty chauffeur and begrudging friends with jonathan (just for the weed tho)
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popponn · 4 months
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so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.
but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.
of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.
and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.
(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)
#1
"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.
rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.
from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.
in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.
"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.
#2
you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.
but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.
rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.
it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.
so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"
rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."
"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.
you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.
"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."
notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.
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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 days
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tee time
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words: 1.5k
warnings: really really overly fluffy, lots of golf talk that idk if its correct yall im not a golfer, rafe squeezes her butt but its not a sexual fic :), lots of kisses omfgggggg these bitches in LOVE (this is a really boring fic im sorry)
“does this look golf-y enough?” you ask rafe as you pout in the mirror, adjusting your skirt again, feeling like your tennis shoes are out of place when you'd usually be wearing heels or sandals.
“baby, we are just playing for fun. you look cute.” rafe says, glancing at his watch.
“should i do my hair differently? pigtails maybe?” you question, twisting your ponytail around your hand.
“baby…” rafe sighs.
“okay, okay.” you raise your hands up. “im done. sorry.” you giggle as you turn to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, having to bend down to where he's sat on the edge of the bed.
“it's okay, you're excited.” rafe says softly, reaching around you to grab the back of your thighs, fingers moving up to your skirt, squeezing your ass.
“i am excited.” you gleam at him. “me and bianca went to putt putt the other day to practice.”
“you're gonna do great, baby.” rafe gives your ass another squeeze before standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the door.
you've been wanting rafe to take you golfing ever since you started your relationship, but usually he'd already have plans with topper or his other country club friends, and you didn't want to intrude.
when rafe offered the other day to let you putt for him, you jumped at the chance.
“im not gonna like, ruin your average right?” you ask as rafe pulls into a parking spot.
“no, baby.” rafe laughs softly. “don't worry.”
“okay.” you smile as he gets out of the truck, rounding it to open the door for you. nobody would ever guess that rafe would be a sweet and caring boyfriend, but he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, and treats you better than you could have ever imagined.
he takes your hand in his as he leads you towards the golf cart, frowning when he realizes you're squinting in the sunlight.
“stay here.” rafe says, allowing you to sit down on his family cart, his clubs already loaded onto the back.
“okay.” you watch as he goes to the truck, jogging to get back to you as he hands you a pair of sunglasses.
“whose are these?” you ask. they look like your style, but you're certain this isn't a pair you own.
“i saw them one day at the mall and thought you'd like them so i bought them.” rafe shrugs. “figured i could keep them in the truck in case you ever forgot yours.”
“raaaafe.” you coo out, pulling him in for a kiss, which he happily accepts.
“ill let you drive once we get further out on the course.” rafe says, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the cart on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, willing to drive with just one hand even though it was harder, needing you close to him as you press your side against his.
rafe pulls up to the first tee, waiting for a moment to feel the wind on his face before he turns to look at you, noting the way your ponytail is being blown slightly eastward.
“give me a good luck kiss for this drive, baby.” rafe says.
you pucker your lips and press a smack against his lips before he grabs a club. 
you let out a cheer when rafe hits the ball, but honestly you lost sight of it in the air and even if you watched the whole way, you wouldn't have known if it was good or bad.
“yes.” rafe pumps his fist. “need you out here more often, my good luck charm.” rafe climbs back into the golf cart, taking off towards where his ball landed.
“gonna land this on the green for you, baby.” rafe says with a confident smile, and he does indeed get the ball pretty close to the hole. 
you're not sure if cheering is generally accepted on the golf course, but you can't help but hype your man up.
“alright.” rafe pulls the cart to a stop near the ball. “it's on you, princess.”
you step out of the cart, looking at your options before grabbing what you assume is the putter, only because it looks similar to clubs used for mini golf.
“if you don't make it the first time, that's okay.” rafe says, removing the flag from the hole. “i won't be mad.”
“mkay.” you look at the distance to the hole, no silly obstacles in the way like there was in your practice.
you give it the ball a tap, frowning with disappointment when it stops rolling only a foot away from the hole.
“that was actually so good!” rafe says, a smile on his face. “just a little more power and it would have been in for sure.”
you nod, taking a breath before lining up your next shot, letting out a scream and jump in the air as the ball falls into the hole.
“that's par, baby!” rafe wraps his arms around your waist, twirling you around.
“oh my god, we crushed that!” you cheer. 
rafe sets you down carefully, but not before pressing a kiss against your lips.
“wanna drive us to the next tee?” he asks, laughing when you enthusiastically nod. rafe drives you literally everywhere, so you haven't been behind the wheel of anything in months.
rafe retrieves the ball and places the flag back in the hole before getting into the passenger side, a smile on his face as you stick your tongue barely out between your lips in concentration. 
rafe loves the look on your face so much that he insists you drive for the rest of the holes. you're tired by the time you reach the last hole, but don't wanna disappoint rafe by not putting.
“you okay, princess?” rafe asks, running his hand over your ponytail, smoothing it down comfortingly.
“mhm.” you nod, but rafe can see that you're getting sleepy, no doubt ready to go home and take a nap.
“how about we do this putt together, yeah?” he asks.
“yes, please.” you pout out your lower lip, rafe leaning forward to capture it between his teeth, tugging it gently before releasing and kissing you.
rafe stands, moving slowly as you get yourself in position before coming behind you, wrapping his arms around your body to grip onto the stick over your hands. he controls the swing and you watch, your back pressed up against his chest, as it falls into the hole.
“perfect job, baby.” rafe says, snuggling into your shoulder, giving your neck a quick kiss before allowing you to go back to sitting on the cart. you slide over to the passenger seat as rafe returns.
he chuckles gently before driving you back towards the clubhouse, thumb gently stroking against your upper arm as you lean against him, tucked into his side.
“someone is sleepy.” rafe says.
you let out a yawn. “it's not my fault you like to golf early in the day. why can't tee time be after like noon or something?”
“i usually golf at this time because you're still asleep and i don't like to be away from you.” rafe says, parking the cart and leaving it to be put properly away by the workers, needing to get you back home and in bed.
the sun has been covered by clouds, so when you climb back into rafes truck, you take your sunglasses off and place them in the center console for next time you forget yours.
you struggle to keep your eyes open for the short drive back to tanneyhill, not wanting to fall asleep in the truck. you know rafe will drive around aimlessly to not disturb your nap, even if he's tired himself. one time he drove around for an entire night just because he said you looked so peaceful sleeping he couldn't bare to move you.
“home, darling.” rafe says, yours eyes fluttering open, not having gone fully asleep yet but the soothing driving by rafe and hum of the engine had your eyelids drooping.
rafe carries you inside and up the stairs, getting out a pair of pajamas for you to change into despite it being midday.
“how long do you expect me to nap for?” you giggle, changing quickly with the last bit of energy you have left.
you sit down on the bed, knowing you should take your ponytail out and brush through your hair, but your arms don't feel like lifting.
you don't even need to ask rafe before he's moving, carefully taking out your elastic before grabbing the brush off your vanity that he set up in his room not long after you started dating.
he brushes gently through your hair, getting out any tangles that accumulated throughout the golf trip.
you crawl up the bed as rafe changes into a pair of sweatpants, going without a shirt as he sees your eyes closing, struggling to stay awake until he's in next to you.
you snuggle instantly into his chest the second hes underneath the covers, sighing happily when you feel his warmth.
“goodnight, princess.” rafe kisses the top of your head. “i love you.”
with your last waking moment, you manage to mutter those three words back to him.
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heartfullofleeches · 3 months
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Hm... Cat hybrid would totally ask to do catnip off Reader's tits.
They definitely would- Reader's tits are the only support they need in life. Dragging my model cat boy, Saber, out of the closet - just imagining him crawling into his makeup room and onto his bodyguard's lap after a hectic photoshoot - pleading for the comfort only their fat tits and a little catnip can provide. Werewolf Bodyguard has already been established to do nearly anything as long as they're paid well enough so they're willing to let him have his fun. They'll be occupied with their phone and counting the weeks pay while catboy has his face buried in their chest - high off his ass.
-
"Ugh.....what a day...If only I had something to take my mind off it all."
Waiting eyes stalk your position - soft fur tickling the inner flesh of your thighs as your boss fishes for your attention in the most obvious fashion imaginable. He taps the top buttons of your shirt with a claw, teasing his fingers through the gap. His lips pucker in a sad little pout as his tail continues to brush up and down your legs. You knew how much he hated to ask for things, but sometimes you'd wished he'd be more upfront with what he wanted - got you paid a whole lot faster and him whatever he desired within range.
"Get on with it."
"I knew you'd understand~"
Saber purrs - throwing kisses at your neck and collar as he reaches for the little baggie hidden beneath the couch cushions. He makes quick work of unbuttoning your shirt - tearing a few of them off in the process. You've got spares, but it's getting pretty hard to explain to others why you're wearing a different shirt after being alone with your employer for a couple hours. Saber sprinkles some of the grass on your chest, squishing your tits together with his hands as he pants his face between them, eagerly lapping at your skin with his tongue. His wrist fall into to your hands - a silent indicator to hold onto him as the catnip takes effect. Wouldn't want you to get scratched again. He swears he's sorry for the last time it happened, but you both know he relishes having that small claim on you.
Saber's purrs rumble against your skin as he bites, licks, and drools all over you. What was even the point of the catnip when he barely had a taste of it? He seemed more invested in everywhere but- testing the waters to see how long you'd humor him before he had to pull away. The couch was moderately comfortable and you didn't mind staying put for what's basically free money so there's really no harm in letting your boss unwind in the best way possible for as long as he wanted until you were off the clock.
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little-pondhead · 4 months
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Danny moved to Gotham.
Freakshow is touring in Gotham.
Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.
Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.
Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.
Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.
Danny turns to the Joker for help.
The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.
Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.
Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.
#pondhead blurbs#dpxdc#how we feeling about this fellas#i think it's an ideal angst fic#but i don't wanna write it lol#the younger danny is the worse it gets#someone said that danny shouldn't be afraid of the joker because he's a clown and freakshow is a ringmaster. not a clown#if i find that post i'll tag the creator cause i can't remember rn#but i'm imagining danny who is heavily traumatized and scared and lonely#finding out that one of his worst enemies he hoped to never see again is hunting him and is so close danny has to check his eyes every day#just to make sure they haven't turned red#his anxiety is out of control and he's not about to go find a Bat or Bird to talk to#who would believe him anyways? he's a monster#but danny needs help cause he will not survive this on his own and he knows it#freakshow haunts his every waking dream#but freakshow isn't from gotham. he doesn't have the city's curses engraved into his blood. he never died and he's not truly teasing death#so danny chooses to plead for help from the only predator bigger than freakshow (in his eyes) who IS from gotham#danny goes to the Joker. prepared to offer everything but his free will and free mind. he can't give those up. it's all he has.#danny is a feral house cat asking a tiger to take care of a mountain lion for him by offering the tiger his own liver on a silver platter#joker is...delighted? maybe? no one is quite sure. but he takes what danny offers.#here is this little boy. almost the same age as the second robin when he died. pleading for the JOKER to be his savior. this will be fun
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