#we be runnin like the wind

[rinhaler]

Alexa, play - WUSYANAME - by Tyler, The Creator

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ boyfriend!Yuuji Itadori x f!reader x bully!Megumi Fushiguro

Yuuji Itadori = the love of your life and best boyfriend you've ever had. He loves giving head and he's a total sweetheart. You thought his best friend Megumi would be just as sweet when he joined your art class. But, ugh, he's the worst!

disclaimer: this series is a re-upload from my old blog @fuwushiguro ! warnings will be added accordingly per chapter ♡ I'm going to upload chapters weekly until they're all moved from there to here !

chapter one: What Is Your Name, What Do You Bring?

18+, consensual sex, oral, face sitting, aftercare, disrespecting sex workers.

chapter two: Drown In Some Syrup

18+, consensual sex, oral, disrespecting sex workers, bullying.

chapter three: We Groove and We Dance

18+, dubcon/noncon, consensual dry humping, bullying, fingering, drugging, choking, degradation, bladder failure (NOT piss kink), vomiting, marking??? clubbing.

chapter four: Think Slow, ‘Cause I Move Fast

18+, exhibitionism, semi public, fingering, bullying, drugging mentions, bladder failure mention, vomiting mention, praise kink, brief fainting (ish).

Chapter Five: The Root Of The Apple

18+, panic attack, mental health issues, alcohol consumption, drug taking, bullying, drugging mention, bladder failure mention, marking mention, family drama.

Chapter Six: Smell Some Perfume, Head In The Wind

18+, (kinda) panic attack, cocaine use, familial issues, handjob, misogyny, dry humping (a little??).

Chapter Seven: We Can Sit and Talk, Baby, Get It Off

18+, consensual sex, sleepy slow sex, praise kink, water infection mention, sleeping difficulties, alcohol consumption, smoking, panic attack mention, drugs mention, family drama, arranged marriage mention, bullying.

Chapter Eight: It’ll Probably End With Me Being Forgot

18+, consensual sex, face sitting, praise kink, drug taking, bullying.

Chapter Nine: We Can Switch Off

18+, long distance relationship, slight intimidation and name calling, relationship pressure, family difficulties.

Chapter Ten: Get Your Passport, 'Cause We Runnin' Off

18+, PG chapter tbh, daddy kink mention??, attempted/thwarted bullying.

Chapter Eleven: One Minute, It's a Beautiful Scene

18+, PG chapter tbh!

Chapter Twelve: I Pick a Tail Number and We Could Be Tourists

18+, alcohol consumption, arguing, name calling, strong language lmao, PG chapter tbh!

Chapter Thirteen: I Got Your Bitch Movin'

18+, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia.

Chapter Fourteen: Bright Light, I'm Like a Moth

18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia, degradation, handjob (m+f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation.

Chapter Fifteen: Tell Me Where The Piece Go, 'Cause I'm Lost

18+, drinking, pining, arguing, etc.

Chapter Sixteen: I Think That I Got What You Need

18+, phone sex, praise kink, sex toys, substance abuse, pining, slut shaming, arguing, family drama??, etc.

Chapter Seventeen: I Value The Times That I Take You Out

18+, pet names, cheating, arguing, family drama, cocaine use, depression, (sort of suicide discussion), pining.

Chapter Eighteen: Call Me If You Get Lost

18+, pet names, cheating, family drama, smokin' weed!!, depression, blowjob, fingering, pining

© 2023 rinhaler

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #megumi angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #megumi x reader #jjk x fem!reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi angst #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #tw praise kink #tw dacryphilia #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #yuuji smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji x you #yuuji x y/n #itadori yuuji smut #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x you #aftercare #tw bullying #tw bully megumi #tw drugging

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Tolerate It pt 2 || Young! Coriolanus Snow X Reader

"Now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say You don't know what you got until it's gone" You don't need to read pt 1 to understand whats happening but if you want to ITS HERE

https://www.tumblr.com/twirlingsmilingwriting/737294906027098112/tolerate-it-youngcoriolanus-snow-x-reader?source=share

TLDR: Truly feeling like the luckiest person alive when your former classmate and short term boyfriend asked you to marry him. Not even a year into the marriage and also a year into his presidency does the original love and admiration you felt from him start to dissipate. You can't help but feel trapped and tricked into a marriage in which he may have never loved you to begin with.

Warnings: Angst, Love-Bombing, marriage, gender ambiguous reader, typical snow tags (manipulation), alcohol, alluding to sexual acts but not described at the end, kissing, unclear motives, capitol parties, crying

Word count: 3k

a/n I was not going to make a part two to this story originally because I thought it was a one shot but some people asked for a part two and my big juicy brain started making up ideas!! lowkey wanted to title this one "You're Losing Me" for the next part but then it'd be hard to find. Let's pretend its called "You're losing me" :') ~

Dazzling lights decorated the gardens of the capital. I stood on the balcony feeling the wind blow through my hair and the satin of my frilly and extravagant blouse. The sounds of music and people chattering from below filled my ears. I closed my eyes and hummed tuning into the moment. I could hear his voice. He was talking to guests in the plaza. I could hear the smile on face in his voice as he charmed the guests, his charisma grew with each passing day. It was the same charm that led me down the path of falling in love with him. I exhaled the breath I didn't even notice I was holding and opened my eyes to take in the sight again. My eyes followed the sound of his voice and I spotted my husband down by a catering table. His tall, slender figure danced delicately through the air. His posture was different from when I first met him. He was always confident but the air around him felt different now. His aura was different but I truly had no right to judge the character of a man I rarely spoke to these days.

A heavy, dragged sigh escaped my lips and I sat back and watched his tantalizing smile and words tease and enchant the party guests. He parted his hair a different way today. I noticed every aspect of him, the way his shirt fit so snugly around his broad shoulders and draped over his thin waist. The gold watch decorated his wrist ever so gently. Truly, his beauty was delicate. He had such a whimsical and frail appearance but his energy made him seem like he was three times the man he was, the man he wanted to be. His head tilted up and his eyes met mine. I froze like the ice the color of his eyes were. His smile dropped and he nodded at me, letting his eyes do the talking.

'Smile more and come down here'

Instantly, a curated diamond-encrusted smile plastered my face and I dusted off my satin shirt and walked down the stairs of the balcony to the main area ever so carefully. Floating down the steps and through the crowd, my body finally reached his side and I interlocked my arm with his. He smiled down at me and I felt my heart beat a little faster. It felt real, at least to me. I loved it when we had parties because Coryo would adorn me with the affection I missed from him. His hand smoothed down to the small of my back and I looked over to smile at the party guests.

"Good evening y/n, you look dazzling," the capital man said, I'm sure I knew him from somewhere but his face was unrecognizable from the copious amounts of fillers he had put in it. I bowed my head to thank him without saying a word. I wasn't too sure if I was allowed to speak yet. That question would soon be answered when I felt a tug at my arm and I looked up to see my husband smiling at me.

'talk more smile less'

Swallowing my breath, I turned my attention back to the man. "Thank you, you also look fabulous, it is my pleasure to be able to serve such fine guests such as yourself at this party tonight," I spoke softly and confidently. I felt Coryos' nails dig slightly into the flesh of my hand. 'you're talking too much'. Mild frustration bubbled in me but it was cut short by the laughter of the party guest. "wow Snow, you truly know how to keep your partner in check huh?" He joked and Coryo started to laugh too before brushing off the comment and continuing to chat with the man about business, politics, and violence. I started to feel a little awkward but once I felt my husband release his hold on me and tap my hip three times, I knew I was done being his arm candy in this moment. Bowing my head, I excused myself and made something up about how I had to 'tend to the roses'.

Walking through the crowds of people I made sure to smile and wave at the happy partygoers while parting through them like the Red Sea. Arriving finally at a bowl filled with some sort of fruity and alcoholic concoction, I flimsily started to fill myself a cup. Leaning against a pillar by the bowl, I started to sip my drink and watched the people dance when suddenly, I heard a man's voice speaking to me. My eyes drifted to meet his and he started to walk over to me extending his hand out for a handshake.

"Wow... truly I am delighted to be in the presence of the right hand of the ruler of Panem. Hello, y/n, It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance" He said, a cheeky smile spread across his face. His orange curls decoratively fell upon his forehead and he had a certain glimmer in his eyes. He was clearly overjoyed to see me and that made me feel... nice?

"Oh goodness please, save me the formalities. And what might your name be?" I asked taking his hand in mine and shaking it. "Curtis"

"Short and sweet, I like that name"

He smiled even brighter than before and laughed, throwing his head back and retracting his hand from the handshake. He was tall, very muscular, and he just had the most shimmery of brown eyes out there. His appearance almost reminded me of a former classmate of mine, Sejanus but ginger. I smiled back and started to giggle a little from just his laughter.

"Have you been enjoying the party?"

"I've been trying, isn't the night just gorgeous?

"Pardon my boldness, but it truly doesn't compare to the beauty that you are. The night looks good on you." His words were stern and it felt like his voice was dripping in honey. A soft blush danced across my cheeks. It had been so long since the last time I received a compliment that felt so genuine. I chuckled a little and shifted my eyes away from the ones of the man with all the right words to say.

"Coriolanus is a lucky man in so many ways but truly, ending up with you must be his proudest achievement. I'm honestly shocked that you're standing by yourself here now. He is a smart man but not a wise one to let you start to slip away" he continued. I was truly at a loss for words. I felt my heart start to beat faster and I felt guilt bubble up inside of me. I was married and this stranger of a man was making me feel a way I hadn't felt since my wedding day. A chuckle escaped my lips and my eyes reconnected with the brown ones of the man in front of me.

"Please don't flatter me here... I can assure you my husband is a talented, smart, and wise man."

My breathing started to slow down as I tried to calm myself down so the obvious blush would remove itself from my face. I toyed with the cup in my hand and took the last sip. He noticed the cup was empty and offered his hand out to take it from me. He said he could refill it for me and I cautiously handed it over to him watching as he poured me another cup of the fruity drink.

"Here you go"

He handed it back to me with two hands and let his other hand rest on top of my own when he handed it back to me.

"Thank yo-"

My words were cut off quickly by the feeling of cold slender hands on my waist, pulling me back. "y/n, darling, I was looking for you" Coryo spoke lightly and spun me around to face him. His hands ran up my body and rested on either side of my face. His blue eyes stared into my own and a soft smile met his lips. "We have a toast to make sweetheart, who is this?" His cold fingertips rubbed either side of my cheeks and I melted right back into his touch. "This is Curtis, I assumed you invited him." I spoke gently and watched his face. He glared at Curtis and his Adams apple bobbed while he clenched his jaw. He tilted his head slightly at the man then brought his gaze back to me and then looked back at Curtis. His fingers interlocked with mine and instantly a joyful light-hearted feeling filled my body. It was the hand Curtis was just touching so I knew Coryo was trying to prove a point here but god, it felt so good to have him touch me so intimately again. "Well Curtis, I'm a little shocked no one ever told you to stay away from things that aren't yours." His words spoke venomously in my ears and a shiver went down my spine. Mild anger was spread across his face as he held me even closer. The ginger man said something in response but I was too enchanted by my husband to process any of it.

Coryo brought his attention back to me and I felt his hand slide up my body and hold onto the back of my head. It happened so quickly when he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine harshly and aggressively. I gasped into the kiss and brought my hands up to either side of his face, holding him ever so gently to not overstep my place. His other hand went right onto the small of my back and he leaned forward more, dipping me. This felt like a scene out of a movie. Warmth started to build up in my breathless figure and he pulled away slowly, scanning my face before he smirked slowly. Some time during the kiss, the man had left and it felt like it was just me and Coryo in the crowd now. I felt a little dizzy, dazed, and confused. My thumbs continued to rub little circles into his cheeks and I smiled and whispered, "I love you." His smirk dropped and he pulled away fully and looked around. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist and he started to drag me to the stairs leading up to the balcony.

I was stumbling over my feet a little trying to keep up with him. When we reached the top of the balcony, Snow looked over at me. His cool and calculated eyes looked me up and down to make sure my appearance was on par with his standards. He exhaled heavily before turning his attention to the people still partying. His booming voice halted the night and the music stopped. The capital guests turned their attention to us in confusion.

"Everyone, I am sorry to end this night so early but I'm afraid circumstances have mixed with their consequences. Before you all disperse, I'd like to make a toast. First, a toast to my beautiful spouse whom I could truly not do anything without"

My heart melted and a warm smile spread across my face. Coriolanus only glanced at me before continuing.

"and lastly, a toast to you all for attending tonight."

He picked up a glass cup that he had resting at the top of the railing and lifted it to the sky. Everyone toasted and took a sip of their drinks. Coryo not so subtly didn't but he placed the cup down and issued another goodbye to the guest before turning to me and placing his hands on my waist again and looked down on me. His expression was unreadable to me. The rest of the party guests started to file out. I heard one masculine voice start to cough violently but as I started to turn my head to look over at the source of the sound, Coriolanus took me by the hand again and dragged me into the house.

He dragged me up to the bedroom and slammed the door. A thick silence started to fill the room. His head was tilted down low, staring at the ground. I stood still and started to fidget with my sleeve. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you make me out to be a fool, y/n?"

"W- what?"

"Oh don't play stupid with me now. You have one job and it is to be my partner and I leave you alone for a second and you know what you go and do? You disrespect me. You so aimlessly let another man flirt with you in front of everyone at MY party"

"Coryo I love you so much, another man could never replace you in my heart I promise. I am so lucky to have you" I started to ramble and stammer over my words. He brought his head up slowly to look at me from his side of the room. He looked haunting.

"Look at your hand" he demanded. Nervously, my gaze dropped down to my hand and I noticed it.

"You're not wearing your wedding ring. You can't even try to pretend you like me. That ring shows a promise that we are supposed to be together forever, you are supposed to serve me forever, and you go around, letting other men flirt and flatter you and without your ring above all things. Clearly, this means nothing to you. How am I supposed to tolerate this kind of behavior. You ungrateful piece of-" Tears were welling up in his angry eyes as they threatened to spill from mine. I yelled so loudly I scared myself,

"Stop! Stop! please stop I can't take it! You're losing me Coryo you're losing me! I don't understand. I have given you everything. I have given you the best of me, I polish everything in your life to paint you a blue sky and you have done nothing but blow dust onto the pages of what was supposed to be the story of our love. I don't understand how I am letting myself stay with you, with this man, no this stranger who is nothing but an empty shell, a reminder of what used to be and the relationship I was manipulated into. Coryo I- I want out. I can't be with you anymore" I was crying furiously and shaking. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed and tried to recollect myself. Coriolanus said nothing for a moment before I heard a crack in his voice.

I hadn't noticed that he had moved his way across the room and he now stood by my feet at the edge of the bed. Hot tears streamed down his face. It didn't feel angry anymore though, it felt sad. He suddenly dropped to his knees in front of me and held my hands in his. He cried into my knees and I felt my heart shatter.

"I- I'm so sorry y/n... I had no idea you were feeling like this. This is my fault I should be a better husband. Please don't leave, I'll give you everything, every last breath in my chest if I can, I love you... I love you... I love you..." He cried out desperately and I started to cry more too. His sobs were being muffled by my legs. My fingers reached his hair and started to stroke it softly.

"Coryo.... Coryo I love you too... I love you so much. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'd never leave you I promise." He slowly looked up at me with his bloodshot and puffy eyes. His plump lips were lightly parted and his eyes searched mine. I blinked away another tear and reached my arms out to hold him close. His eyes welled up with tears again and his lips pressed downwards into a frown before he stood up again and he leaned down into my arms. I stood up to try and match his level and started to cry into his chest while he cried into my shoulder. His behavior was like a switch, one moment he was angry at me and the next he was so incredibly sad. I can't stand to see Coryo hurt. I love him too much, need him too much. Our bodies rocked back and forth before I whispered another "I love you" into his chest. I felt his lips on my neck for a moment when he smirked against my skin and stopped crying. I was still sobbing into his chest and whispering a mix of sorry's and sweet nothings. Coryo kissed my neck and pulled back.

"It's okay... stop crying, you're an ugly crier for a beautiful face. I love you" He said softly. I couldn't process the legitimacy of anything in this situation. His face relaxed fully and he was looking at me with a blank expression now. I wiped my tears and he smiled weakly before planting a gentle kiss on my lips. I fell into his warmth and fell in love with him all over again in that moment. He pulled back and gave my forehead a little peck.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me darling..." He spoke softly and I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug he mumbled a word into my skin but I couldn't make it out.

"easy..."

~

PART THREE

#coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #tom blyth imagine #tbosas #president snow #young president snow #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #hunger games #thg series #thg

[devildomditzy]

Finally, some peace and quiet after such a chaotic day! You practically leap out of your RAD uniform and into some pajamas as the night begins to fall, crashing face first onto your plush bed. It’s warm, with the fuzzy comforter the twins gifted you, and soft, with the various stuffed creatures given to you by the brothers and angels alike. You snuggle in further, allowing the dark tendrils of sleep creep in, beginning to drift off after such a long-

*thunk*

After such a long, agonizing da-

*thunk*

A-After such a long, agoni-

*thunk*

Ignore it and it will go away-

*thunk*

Nope, you’re not moving from this spo-

*thunk*

Ugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have shown him that cheesy romcom from your home realm.

Sighing, you stand up slowly, wiping the sleep from your eyes and making your way over to the room’s large ornate window. Honestly, you should have known he was up to something when he wasn’t attached to your hip on the way home.

Pulling back the curtains, you see Mammon, small stone in hand winding up to take another pot shot at your window. Upon realizing you’ve finally stirred, his face elates, letting the rock in his hand fall to the ground as his eyes shine with anticipation. He’s almost like a puppy, excited to grab your attention.

You pick up the large golden hook from its resting place and lift up, allowing the window panes to be pushed open and outwardly towards the source of your annoyance.

“Yo!”, he smiles widely, self assured that his plan was working.

“What are you doing?”, you question back, wanting to get to the point of this charade and get back to your pillowy slumber.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’! I’m bein’ romantic!”

You snort at his comment. Seems like he’s not gonna beat around the bush this time.

“Uh huh, so you decided to throw rocks at my window…for romance?”

“Nah, that part ‘s just to get yer attention! Now c’mon, we’re sneakin out!”

You give him a quick once over then look back down to yourself, already in your night clothes and ready to pass, quiet frankly, the fuck out.

“You expect me to sneak out looking like this?”

“Course not! But how was I supposed to know you were goin’ to bed already like some loser!”

You feign a hurt expression, bringing a hand up to your chest, “So you’re trying to convince me to sneak out with you by calling me a loser? Well, so much for romance!”, you say, turning up your nose and beginning to close the window back.

“Oi! Hey! No! Don’t ya dare close that window on me!”

“Oh yeah? Or what? You gonna come throw rocks at my door instead? Prrrretty sure Lucifer would loooove that!”

“Argh- Alright! I’m sorry for callin ya a loser, ‘kay? Now would ya please get ready to go? Car’s runnin’ an’ our reservation’s at si-”

He seems to kick himself mentally for letting that last part slip.

“Oh? Reservations you say? Maybe you do know how to be romantic after all~”, you tease as his face gradually turns redder.

“That part…was ‘ppose to be a surprise”, he sighs, cursing himself under his breathe.

You giggle at his flustered state. He could be so cute without realizing it, and the fact that he had put so much effort into this surprise had your heart reeling enough to shake off the rest of your drowsiness.

“Alright, I’m coming. Just, gimme a few minutes to get changed?”, you smile softly at his nervous mannerisms as he runs his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.

“Make it quick, or I’m leavin’ without ya!”, he bites back with a smirk, confidence seeming to return to him.

You can’t hold back the laugh that comes out at that statement. “Oh please, we both know you wouldn’t dare.”

“An’ we both know you wouldn’t have any fun without me!”

You give a lighthearted scoff and turn back to shut the window.

“O-Oi, what’d ya doin?”, he questions, worry beginning to settle on his face.

“Well you can’t watch me get changed pervert!”, you laugh as the comment makes his stuttering worse.

He quickly glances away from you, finding himself unable to maintain eye contact any longer.

“M-meet me round back in five, got it?!”, he calls out to you before sprinting out of view, presumably to where he’d backed his car out to. “Ya damn nuisance!”

Time spent with Mammon may not be the most relaxing, usually involving you running from Lucifer, or Casino security, or both, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x y/n #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me drabbles

[macfrog]

checkmate cowboy like me chapter nine

hi sorry it’s late please don’t hate me 🥲 would just like to note- reader's pasta is gluten free, alright? i have had too many gluten-induced traumas to write about it anymore. she is a gluten free queen. thanks parts 1-8 on my masterlist here, n my ao3 here. love u all the most!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel steals you away during a family meal to give you a telling off...in the form of a quickie

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) pining reader, bratty reader, brat tamer joel, spanking, oral (m receiving), face fucking, dom!joel, orgasm denial, theft of underwear, loose mention of someone cheating, alcohol, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, marty robbins

word count: 8.1k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.” You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.” He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again. “Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

The water dances to-and-fro, kissing the lip of the pool and splashing onto the concrete at your feet. It’s windier than normal today, trees whispering overhead, breeze taking your hair and lightly tossing it around.

You’re sat out back on a lounger, waiting for Joel to come pick you up. Joel and Sarah, that is. Picking you and your dad up. Be nice if it were just Joel, wouldn’t it? You and him, alone together again. Out on a date, or even just following him around, side by side in his truck as he goes about his day. His hand on your thigh, pretending to roll his eyes at your music choice.

As if that would ever happen. As if that could ever happen.

He and your dad have organized some dinner to celebrate yours and Sarah’s return home; some hotel resort with a restaurant looking out over the river. Your dad couldn’t remember the name of it. Said it was all Joel doing the booking.

You can still fucking hear him. Your dad. His voice lulls through the open kitchen window, the wind carrying it to your ears almost comically. You wish you could bat it away. He’s had the same Marty Robbins song stuck in his head all morning. You’d finally reached breaking point when he’d graduated from just humming it to full-volume singing, even doing his own impression of the guitar.

And now it seems that sneaking out to the backyard hadn’t rid you of the damn song either, no matter how loud the trees may be rustling.

Joel said he’d be here by now – he’s late. You slink off to the back gate to slip out front and wait for him there. And maybe also to escape your dad’s voice. No offense to the guy.

A couple minutes to six, his truck pulls up by the curb you’re perched on. Sarah climbs over the front seat to the back, and you join her.

She scoffs when you slam the door shut. “You’re eager.”

You shake your head in response, warning her with a roll of your eyes not to ask. She gives you an understanding nod and your eyes turn to Joel.

“You’re late.”

He looks back at you in the rearview mirror. “Not my fault. Traffic. We left twenty minutes ago, didn’t we?”

Sarah’s lip curls. She shrugs a little. You know he’s telling the truth.

When you turn back, Joel’s eyes are still on you, expression a little softer. A greeting. Making up for the fact he can’t wrap his arms around you, pinch your nose affectionately, kiss you to say hello. You smile back at him.

“That watch a’ yours runnin’ slow, Miller?”

Your dad’s voice is like a fucking foghorn. Sarah covers her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. He sweeps down the driveway toward the truck and you lean back in your seat. Quiet moment ruined.

Joel lightly chuckles and then gives you one last hazardous glance in the mirror before pulling off, ignoring your dad’s teasing. Probably for your benefit.

The relief of a quiet journey doesn’t last long, though. Barely five minutes in, your dad picks up the humming again.

“Dude,” you groan, “will you quit that? For the love of God.”

“It’s stuck in my damn head,” he chuckles, arms crossing defensively.

You roll your eyes again. “So your plan is to plague us all with it, too?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s he singin’?” Sarah asks, leaning forward.

“Marty Robbins. Old song.” The lack of tone in Joel’s voice and the quick shake of his head as he says it tells you he ain’t the biggest Marty Robbins fan either. A voice inside you thanks God, like it even matters what music he’s into.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

“Lucky you,” you breathe, and your dad holds up a finger over his shoulder.

“Heard that,” he says.

“’s why I said it.”

Joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh. “You’re in a real mood today, aren’t you?”

Your head falls against the window, bumping along with the road as Joel drives.

“Hold up a second,” your dad rounds on him, “you ain’t showin’ your kid real music, are you? She doesn’t even know Marty Robbins.”

“I ain’t puttin’ her through the pain of knowin’ him.”

A smile forms across your lips. Just another thing you two agree on. Another little string connecting you both, separating you from the rest.

You almost snort at yourself. Counting strings.

Sarah interrupts your train of thought when she requests the radio be put on. Joel turns the dial up and she sits back, victorious. You stifle a laugh. But even Taylor Swift doesn’t fully drown out your dad’s voice – she sure doesn’t stop the way he bobs his head as he sings to himself. It’s helpful, all the same.

You and Joel have been quite literally counting down the hours until you’re alone together. Alone for a whole weekend. Each morning, you’ll text him to announce it’s one less day. And he’ll reply some witty comment, some crude joke, or else a thumbs up emoji which usually meant he was working, or had company and couldn’t text. Company meaning eagle-eyed Sarah.

It’s been almost a whole week since the last time you had uninterrupted, unsupervised time with him. When you could link your arms around him, feel his head lean down on top of yours, say things without threat of anyone else hearing.

Seeing him there in the front seat, inches away from you, and not being able to touch him or even talk much to him, feels like a form of torture. Makes you curse your dad ‘n his tone-deaf singing all the more.

You’re supposed to be meeting Sam and Anna and a couple others from work at Frank’s, Saturday night, 8PM sharp. Rodeo night. Your dad’s leaving for Fort Worth in the late afternoon, he said. You’d kinda sulked when he told you, realizing that left a tiny window of time you could see Joel that day.

And then he told you he’d text Joel to ask if he’d be around to pick you up from Frank’s if you needed him, and you chirped up.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be really good. Can you ask him to?”

“He said just to text you if you need ‘im, hon.”

“Cool, I will. I mean, I will if I need him. Thanks, Dad.”

If you need him. If. Just on the off-chance, right?

The thought draws a smile across your face. You reckon his presence will be very, very needed this weekend.

Soon enough, the truck pulls in to some ornamented, fountain-guarded resort, bursting with greenery and flowers, paved in pristine sandstone. A red canopy over the entrance, golden letters spelling out Hillcrest.

“Damn…” Sarah leans over into your space to get a glimpse of the building from your window. “This is so fancy.”

“You treatin’ us or somethin’, son?” your dad asks Joel.

He doesn’t reply. But his eyes flit up to meet yours, then back to the road ahead. In a one-second look, you understand.

Sarah’s still staring outside, mouth wide open, blinking eyes taking everything in. “Dad, what the f…”

“Language,” Joel clips.

You smirk. It’s funny, hearing the man who’s whispered far worse things – filthy things – to you in earshot of company, chastise his nineteen-year-old for cursing.

The four of you roll by the water feature – three robed women made of stone pouring water from vases into a pool at their feet – and park up. As you hop out, a woman in a silk dress struts by, floppy sunhat bouncing with each step she takes.

Joel meets you at the back of the truck, letting Sarah and your dad stroll off ahead. They’re busy pointing at different features of the lavish hotel – the purple-uniformed bellboys running in and out of the lobby, the glimmering revolving door, the guests eating on balconies overhead.

“You outta that mood yet?” he asks, and you snap out of your daze.

“Not in a mood,” you reply bluntly, eyes still ahead.

“Huh.” He nods, unconvinced. “Marty Robbins gettin’ to ya that much, is he?”

“Marty Robbins ain’t the problem.”

“No? What is it, then?”

His hand finds the small of your back. It straightens you up like a shot of fire through your spine.

“Not a what. A who.”

You lead him inside.

A man in a pressed white shirt greets you all at the entrance to the restaurant.

“Reservation for Miller,” Joel says, and the man nods curtly and darts off into the sea of tables.

Sarah skips off with your dad on her arm, the two of them fucking ecstatic to be somewhere so fancy and fun. You and Joel amble through, past wine coolers, dodging fleeing waiters, slipping between white-cloth tables and silver spoon diners. His hand never leaves the skin between your shoulder blades, red hot on your goosebumped skin.

You’re seated at a table by the window, overlooking the river. Joel sits opposite you, your dad by his side. Sarah nudges your elbow and holds her phone up, snapping a selfie of you both with the glimmering water in the background. She tags the location and adds text below: fine dining. Her thumbs search for emojis, picking two champagne glasses, some sparkles, and a pink heart. Then she swaps the heart for a smiley face, and tilts the phone to you, wordlessly asking for your approval.

“Cute,” you tell her, and she beams, hittingpost.

The server returns, hands out menus, leaves a jug of ice water and some fancy bottle of wine you’ve never heard of by the table, and then nods his head once again before he rushes off. Your dad salutes him as he goes. You cringe.

“Boy’s gonna take a damn heart attack,” Joel mutters, watching your dad lift the wine from its bucket.

Sarah’s watching, too. She looks from the bottle of wine over to Joel, eyebrows raised. He flatly tells her, “No.”

“Come on,” she protests, “it’s not like anybody here knows what age I am.”

“We know.”

“Dad, I–”

“Water, or nothin’.”

Her eyes dagger into his. “You ain’t exactly a stickler for the rules yourself,” she breathes, sliding the jug across the table, and you scoff.

You’ve seen her do worse on her Instagram stories, and the way she glares at you warns you not to open your mouth. If Joel’s this pressed about some wine with a meal, it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t have a social media account.

“Let’s toast,” your dad announces as he pours wine into three of the glasses, “to…to you girls bein’ back home…” He raises his wine and Sarah lifts her little water, lemon slice floating on top. “…and to a fun summer ahead. Hm?”

You and Joel both hesitate a little before lifting your drinks, clinking them softly against each other with a glint in your eyes.

A fun summer. Sure. You’re certainly having fun. Yeah.

You watch Joel as you take a sip, frowning at the bitter taste. His mouth twists just like yours, neck winces as he swallows. Then he promptly slides his glass along the table back to your dad, clearing his throat and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“No?” you ask, amused.

“Not my thing.”

You tilt your head. “Maybe they have Bud at the bar.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that?”

You flash a proud grin at him. The denim of his jeans brushes against your ankles. Your dad takes Sarah up in conversation. No one would see if you just…

Under the long white tablecloth, you nudge open his calves and slot your feet between them. Joel’s boots close at the back of your legs, holding you to him. Holding you against him.

It feels…nice. It’s almost normal. Like something a real couple would do. Not a pair of hopeful idiots wrapped up too tight in some clandestine affair. You almost feel like you could reach for his hand, and you’re willing to bet that if it weren’t for your company, he’d let you take it. Let you part his fingers with yours. Let you run a light touch over his knuckles.

When you finally look up at Joel, he’s looking right back. Watching you. Reading your mind.

You avert your gaze, reaching to pour a glass of water.

A few quiet minutes pass while the table studies the menu. You’re still looking around, taking in your surroundings. The more you look, the more you notice. Velvet drapes framing tall Palladian windows. A man nervously checking his blazer pocket while his girlfriend’s at the bathroom. Joel’s legs give yours a wiggle and you’re drawn away from the pocket square and slicked-back hair.

He smiles affectionately. Asks in his eyes if you’re okay. Your shoulders meet your jaw with the inhale you take, and then you nod. Imperceptible. Some dumb smile across your lips that mirrors his. Like you really are on your own or something. It’s stupid.

“Reckon I’ll have the steak,” your dad says.

Joel hums in agreement, nodding.

Sarah orders a Caesar salad and you decide on the fettuccine Alfredo. The nodding waiter snaps his little black book shut and collects your menus, before disappearing again. Conversation flows across the table naturally: your dad’s big client, Joel’s working week, Sarah’s sophomore year. Of course, the Rangers are mentioned once or twice.

Your wrist is shaking your glass, watching as the water swirls around inside. The thought turns over much the same in your head. A question for Joel. When your food arrives and the chatter lulls, you brave up enough to ask it.

“You think I’m…brighter…here?”

He smiles, a little confused. “Brighter?”

“Aw, kiddo.” Your dad shakes his head, knife tearing into his steak. “I knew you’d take that to heart.”

Joel’s still looking at you. Concerned.

Sarah elbows you. “What’s that mean?”

Your dad sighs. “Bill told ‘er on Sunday she used to be miserable whenever she came home. Said that this time ‘round she looks…”

“…brighter.” You lift your hands to form air quotes around the word, pasta wrapped around the fork between your fingers.

Joel’s expression relaxes, his smile grows. “’cause of anything in particular, or…?”

You instantly regret bringing it up. He’s a dick. Has to ruin every sweet moment with a smug smirk and testosterone-induced impulses, doesn’t he?

You mock smile back and shake your head.

“Y’know what I think it is?” your dad says, and Joel finally turns to him. He nods at you and Sarah. “The pair of ‘em. Back home like old times. How long has it been since the four of us were out doin’ stuff together?”

You and Sarah exchange a sideways glance.

“I’m serious!” he says, waving his hands. Cutlery almost flying out of his grip. “It’s nice. Joel, back me up.”

Joel’s sat back in his chair, midway through cutting his steak, watching this show unfold. He clears his throat and offers, “Yeah. Real nice.”

Your dad looks defeated. He retires from the conversation, focusing on the meal in front of him.

“What are you guys gonna do all weekend without us?” Sarah asks, shoving a forkful of salad in her mouth.

“I, uh…keep forgetting y’all are goin’ away,” you lie, staring down at your pasta.

Joel clears his throat again. “This guy at work was showin’ me these videos of folks playin’ chess – did you know there are these…leagues, for chess? Professional leagues ‘n competitions. They win money, good money, for playin’ chess.”

Sarah, like everybody at the table, is quiet for a few seconds. “Is…is this your way of sayin’ y’all are gonna…play chess?”

You’re staring at Joel, amused and yet a tad embarrassed. The dude you’re sleeping with just went on a ramble about chess.

You twirl your fork in your hand before taking another bite. “I’ve never played chess. Maybe you’ll have to play it alone.”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Don’t think you can,” he says, gritting his teeth, “it’s a two-player game.”

“Nah,” Sarah chimes in. “A guy in my Physiology class plays against himself to practice. He’s pretty good, I think.”

Your head nods toward her, eyebrows raised at Joel. He’s grimacing back.

“He always goes on about speed, says it’s all about playin’ fast so your opponent ain’t got time to think. Quick hands, he says.”

Your brows arch, lips petted. Poor Joel. “Aw. Looks like you’ll be playin’ with yourself.”

His brows angle and you notice a twisted smile on his lips. Pissed – sort of aroused, but pissed. You lift your legs from between his. He holds onto your ankles with his own for a second, forcing you to stare at him, before he frees you. You tuck your legs under your chair.

Just then, Sarah’s phone vibrates on the wooden table.

“Oh, shoot, two seconds. Hello?” She screws her face up. “Are you kidding me? No way. No, I don’t– You– Kels, can I call you back in, like, an hour or something? I’ll call you back, I’m just at dinner with my dad and my…No, I’ll literally be, like– Alright. Lemme call you back. Okay.”

She hangs up and swivels in her seat to you.

“You know Kels? Kelly Ramirez?”

You draw a blank. Push your bottom lip out. “Should I know a Kelly Ramirez?”

“She played soccer with me in high school? Remember, that game you came to,” Sarah leans in, knocking your arm with the back of her hand as if giving your memory a swift kick, “she played in goal to fill in for Stephanie, and broke her ankle tryna save Amber Murphy’s shot? Passed out from the pain?”

Nothing. You shake your head.

She huffs. “Coach Lee had to drive her to the emergency room and it’s all she went on about for weeks.”

“Oh!” The penny drops. “That was her? Didn’t she carve his initials into the girls’ room stalls?”

Your dad and Joel exchange a bewildered and, quite frankly, weary glance. Sarah shuts her eyes and nods, ashamed.

“That’s her.”

“Wow. I wonder if he knew how bad her crush was…” you muse, choking back a laugh when Sarah gives you a dead-eyed stare.

“He would have,” Joel says flatly, and you both shoot him a look. “Girls ain’t good at hidin’ that sorta stuff.”

“Oh, like you’ve ever had anyone have a crush on you.” Sarah bats her hand at him and then her fingers lock around your wrist. “Anyway…”

You can see Joel’s grin from your peripheral. He gives your sneaker a tap with his boot under the table, and you feel your cheeks start to heat. You move your leg.

“…she’s just caught her boyfriend cheatin’.”

“Who has?”

Sarah huffs. “Kelly Ramirez! For cryin’ out loud, are– are you even listenin’ to me?”

“I was caught up in the Coach Lee stuff. Right. No, I’m with you now. Is she okay?”

“She suspected it for weeks. He kept cancelling plans last minute, kept coming up with dumb excuses. We were all tryna tell her, just ask ‘im. Ask him or find out for yourself. So, she did. Checked his phone and found all these messages between him ‘n some girl from college.”

“How’d she hack into his phone?” your dad asks.

Joel, head now resting against his fingers, draws him a look: Really?

“She didn’t,” Sarah tells him. “She knows his passcode. Used it to get in, I guess.”

Your dad nods, taking note, eyes narrowing. He looks over to Joel, then you. These kids and their technology, you imagine him thinking. But he’s staring a fraction too long. You shift in your seat. Give him a comical shrug – Don’t ask me – and he eventually looks away.

The rest of dinner passes smoothly – Sarah picking up her phone, rattling a message into it with her thumbs, and then dropping it back down onto the table. Your dad, battling his steak, asking Joel what he thinks of the Rangers’ chances against the Astros tonight, and Joel…well, Joel not taking his attention off of you for one second.

He’s answering your dad, saying all the right things at the right times, but anytime his eyes lift off of his plate, they land on you. Your arm, draped on the tablecloth. Your hand, moving pasta around your dish with your fork. Your eyes, flitting between the view outside to that inside.

You can see him the entire time. Watching you. You’re not fucking blind. If Sarah didn’t have Kelly Ramirez spamming her phone with cheating boyfriend updates, she’d probably be commenting on it. Did she grow a second head, or somethin’? she’d quip.

But you never look back. Not once. Just let him observe you, let him wait for a glance or a kick of the foot that never comes.

You’re leant back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, when the waiter clears your table. Watching some couple wander off down the riverside path. She’s wearing a white sundress that dances around her calves with each slow step she takes. He’s in a plain black tee, tan arm around her back. Looking around at the view, taking it all in.

Then she turns on her heel to him. He lifts a hand to move her long, dark braids from her face, drops it to cup her jaw. Pulls her in to him, presses his lips to hers. Her hands are linked at his spine. Like they’re the only two people in the world.

There’s a feeling in the depths of your chest. A throb. Uncomfortable. Maybe even painful. You shift in your seat to move it, but it doesn’t budge. Your gaze falls, travelling along the window frame, onto the white cloth and to Joel’s elbow. Up his arm, across his shoulder.

You reach his jaw and look away. He’s watching everything.

“Alright,” your dad’s hands slap down on his thighs, “we good to go?”

“You go on,” Joel tells him. “I’ll get the bill.”

“Absolutely not, bud,” your dad protests. You and Sarah both lean back in your chairs at the same time. May as well get comfortable, we could be here a while.

“I got it,” Joel says, almost annoyed, getting up to stand. Your dad follows suit. Joel holds a hand out. “I’m sure you’ll repay me somehow. Hey, I got that job in a couple weeks I said I might need you for. Help me out and we’re even.”

Your dad’s hands are on his hips. “I ain’t happy about this, Joel.”

“Stick,” Joel mutters. “I’m sure I’ve done worse that you’ve forgiven me for.”

His eyes finally find yours and your cheeks flush. He covers it by gesturing to you to stand up with a snap of his head.

Why was that hot? Is it…weird…? That that was hot? All he did was nod his head.

You stand – Sarah copies you, sliding her chair under the table. Joel pushes yours in for you. His hand’s on your back again, fingers drawing circles. The four of you are walking toward the exit. Your dad’s still murmuring about owing money.

“Hey,” Sarah calls, pointing, “this place has an outdoor bar. Let’s go check it out.”

Your head’s beginning to dizzy. Why is your head dizzying?

Stick.

The way he pointed, flicked his head toward the door. Knowing you’d just fucking obey him. And you did.

Yep. That was hot. Hot enough that it restarts something in you; something deep down begins to wind. An idea sweeps across your mind.

Sunlight bursts through the French doors up ahead, golden rays flooding in through the glass panes. Joel stoops his head as he wanders through, dodging ivy draped around the doorway. On the other side, drowned in daylight, a paved courtyard.

There are tables and chairs dotted around. Benches in front of flowerbeds. More random statues – a cherub, a rearing horse. Wooden planters with vines growing toward the sky. Another slightly smaller fountain in the middle.

This…is fucking insane. Last night for dinner you ate leftover Chinese food ‘cause your dad was working late. Tonight, you’re strolling through a five-star hotel garden after the best fettucine of your life.

Ahead of you and Joel, your dad nudges Sarah and comically offers her his arm, elbow outstretched. She nods graciously and links her arm in his, and they saunter off, chins up, dumb grins across their faces.

Joel scoffs. Your lips tug a little, chest still tight. Body still tense. And he senses it.

“What?”

You shake your head. “Nothin’. Just…taking in the view.”

“’s nice, ain’t it?”

“Mhm,” you admit. “Word on the street is it was all your idea.”

“Wanted somewhere nice for you. For both of you. Didn’t know it would be this nice, but…it’s what you deserve.”

Your eyelashes flutter, blinking rapidly to conceal the look in your eye. The look that says…something dangerous. You betray the thoughts circling around your head and press your lips together in a tight smile. “Thanks,” is all you can muster the strength to say.

Joel looks forward; your dad and Sarah are strides ahead, still gawking at the garden, chatting, snapping photos.

“It improve your mood any?”

“I already told you, I ain’t in a mood.”

“That why you couldn’t look at me at dinner?”

It stops you in your tracks. You glare at him. Almost about to punch him out of frustration, right before you catch yourself and your expression softens.

“Did you want me to look at you?” you coo, leaning in a little. Your hands rest on his forearms.

Joel tenses. Opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. But you want him to fucking say it. So, you push further.

“What we were doin’ under the table wasn’t enough? Poor baby. Guess you just wanted more of my attention, huh?”

His expression doesn’t change. Lips barely move when he utters, “Thin ice, kid.”

You shrug. “I’m not the one begging you to look at me.”

He swallows. His eyes are staring you down, huge, glowing warm in the evening sunlight. There’s so much energy thrumming around your body that you feel almost faint, like your knees could give. Just swoon, fall into his arms.

“I’m bored,” you back up, turning back to the hotel, “going to the bathroom.”

You’re gone before he can react. Taking off for the doors, stumbling out of the sun and into the cool restaurant, catching your breath when you’re safely in the shade.

You approach the bar – a deep, shiny mahogany, wine glasses hanging from above, glistening footrail at the bottom. Intricately carved, varnished and smooth. Bottles of spirits and ales and wines decorate the back wall, lined up on shelves against a glimmering mirror.

Two girls in black polo shirts stand, elbows leaning against the back shelf.

“I served a duck the other night,” one of them says to the other. She has short brown hair, freckles painted across her nose. A tattoo down her right arm. She twirls a pen between her fingers as she speaks.

“A duck?” The second girl screws her face up.

“Yep. When I gave him the check, he told me to put it on his bill.”

The second girl snorts. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Hey, excuse me?” you call over, and the girl with the tattoo steps forward, still laughing. “Where are the restrooms?”

“Upstairs,” she nods to the doors by your side, “they’re on the right.”

You nod in thanks and she twirls the pen again, resuming position.

The bathroom is freezing cold when you burst into it, almost panting, and stumble across to the sink. Your palms plant firmly on the marble countertop, head falling limp between your shoulders. When you look up to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a laugh passes your lips.

You look…flustered. Bothered. You’re not sure if Joel noticed it. You were too busy trying to conceal it to gauge whether he’d caught on.

What the fuck is he doing to you? More importantly, how is he doing it to you? Can you seriously not go a couple days without him? Need, want, desire. Everything he causes, only he can fix.

But then, he never can fucking fix it. There’s always something or someone in the way. And you swear Joel gets off on it – watching you need him, miss him, pine for him, and knowing he won’t be able to relieve it.

Staring at yourself, you start to feel that energy charging up again. Heat pooling between your legs, blood drumming through your veins. What the fuck is he doing to me? Nothing, he’s not doin’ nothing.

Nothing I can’t do right back to him.

You push yourself off of the sink and shoot one last glance in the mirror, giving your reflection an affirming nod before striding over to the door. It swings shut behind you as you pace down the hall, feeling a lot more steel and a lot less sweet.

As you round the corner to head downstairs, a familiar shadow stalks up the last two steps and bursts into the hallway. Without a word, his arm hooks around yours and he drags you back the way you came.

“Joel– What the fuck are you doin’–?”

He passes by the restrooms and onto a plush red carpet. In a blur, he flings open the first door in sight and throws you inside, ignoring your gasps.

He slams the door shut, whipping you around to shove you against it. From over his shoulder, you notice your surroundings. A bed over by the window, pristine white sheets tucked perfectly under the mattress. Nightstands spotless, desk against the wall topped with a tray holding a bottle of wine and a tiny card that reads Welcome to the Hillcrest.

You’re in one of the hotel’s rooms. One of the hotel’s empty rooms.

Of course it’s empty. It’s like he fucking planned it.

“Alright. A hotel room. Did you book it, at least?”

“Naw,” his eyes scan you up and down, “I didn’t fuckin’ book it.”

“So…what are we doing in here?”

Joel’s pressing against you, forcing you up against the wooden door. Caging you against it with the weight of his body. Clearly, in the time you spent giving yourself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, Joel was doing the exact same downstairs. The fucker.

“Said you were bored. ‘n that’s a real shame, given I just took you to dinner. Ain’t no pleasin’ you, is there?”

Your head rolls back against the door with a laugh. “That really got to you? So, what, now you’re gonna fuck me? Wine, dine, ‘n…yeah?”

Joel’s lips are tight, eyes staring you down. He’s seething. He’s turned on, and he’s seething. Exactly where you want him.

“You get sluttier every fuckin’ day, you know that?”

You nod, teeth taking your bottom lip. “You like it, though, huh?”

Joel doesn’t reply. You lean in closer to him.

“You like me bein’ a little slut,” you whisper, running a hand softly over his hard jeans, “just for you, don’t you?”

His voice lowers in response. “Not when I can’t do nothin’ about it.”

You pull back, cocking an eyebrow. Angle your head. “You’re the one who pulled me in here. It’s an empty hotel room, man. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

He glowers at you. His face rigid, one hand still locked around yours, almost assisting you in palming himself; the other above your head, flat against the door.

His head dips. Jaw lines with yours, breath against your ear.

“Whatever the fuck I want?”

“Mhm.” You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. Not that either of you care. Then you pause. “Oh! Wait.”

Joel lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. Looks like you just cut in front of some spiel he had planned.

Your cheeks swell. “Do you have a bottle?”

“A bottle?”

“Beer bottle. You need me to go grab one? What if they don’t have beer? It’s kind of a fancy place. Would wine work? Or is it only beer that gets you goin’–”

“Alright. Enough. Fuckin’ – brat.”

You cock your head, tongue in your cheek, pushing around the shape of your mouth. Keep going.

You spurt out a laugh. “I’m a brat?”

“Yep. Never do as you’re fuckin’ told.”

You lean in close, lips brushing off of his, so close you can taste him. Feel how tense his jaw is. Your voice is low, barely above a whisper.

“Then…make me.”

Joel’s still staring you down, watching you like a predator watches its prey. His eyes are so dark you can’t read the thoughts behind them, but the way his grip tightens on your wrist, so rough it feels like he’s fucking bruising you, the way he yanks you off of the door, tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“I ain’t got time for this,” he hisses, pulling you over to the bed.

You stagger behind him, still snickering. Joel sinks down into the mattress, thighs apart, pulling you to stand between them. You look him up and down once, smirking, his hands still roughly gripping yours. Then –

In one fluid movement, you’re over his knee. Thighs digging into your stomach, face hovering over the soft carpet. Your hands grip his calf to hold onto something – anything – as he pulls the hem of your dress up so roughly, you’re sure he’s ripped it.

“You want to act like a brat?” he asks, and you smile, feeling his hand run from the back of your knee up your thigh, coming to rest on your ass. “Get treated like one.”

The first time his huge palm slaps against your skin, your mind blanks. The sharp sting, Joel’s grunt as his hand comes down on you. The way your body jerks, and the whine you let slip as it does. The throb when he lifts his hand, the cold air hissing against your heated skin.

He’s fucking – he’s…He has you in an empty hotel room, door unlocked, entire lobby of people downstairs. Over his knee, skirt hiked to your waist, spanking you. Hard.

And then you realize. You fucking like this.

“Joel…” you moan, catching your breath when it comes back.

Another sharp sting.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop? You gonna stop bein’ a little brat?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, filthy grin on your lips.

“F-fuck no.”

He slaps you again. You whimper, wrapping your arms around his leg.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so. Can feel how wet you are for me.”

He curls a finger around the hem of your panties and drags them down your thighs, letting them drop off of your legs and to the floor while his fingers return between your legs, running up and down your slit. You whine.

“Such a pretty little mouth, huh? You were runnin’ it just a second ago. Where’d all your big talk go?”

You open your mouth to reply, barely even make a sound, and his palm smacks against your ass again. He’s not done.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” he grunts, hand coming down on you again. “You remember that day I ran you home?”

You whimper in response – yeah, I remember.

“You ‘n me alone, you being a little fucking tease. Wanted to fuck you so badly, baby. Those tight little shorts you were in…fuck…”

“Why…didn’t…you…?” you whine, muffled into the denim of his jeans. “Would’ve…fuck…let you.”

“Yeah? You wanted me to, darlin’?”

“Wanted…you,” slap, “in the kitchen.”

You gasp when Joel’s grip becomes tighter around your waist, holding you still as his hand sears against your ass. Rougher. Harder. It turns you on more.

“Wanted you in my mouth.”

You swear his breath catches. Swear you can feel his hand hovering over you, almost ready to spank you again, but he pauses.

“That right, baby? In your mouth?”

You nod, unsure if he can even see you. And then you feel him bend, feel his fist in your hair, lifting your head until his lips are curled around the shell of your ear.

“You wanna show me what you woulda done?” he whispers, breath hot.

Your body’s still shaking, throbbing; you’re a sobbing mess, but still, you utter: “Yeah.”

Joel pulls you all the way off his lap then, widening his legs for you to sit between them.

“Gotta be quick, babygirl,” he tells you, pushing you by the shoulders down onto the carpet.

Your knees part to lower yourself closer to his crotch, fingers shakily fumbling with his zipper. Joel helps you, shifting his jeans until his cock springs free. He’s as hard as if you’d been playing with him this entire time, so hard you almost begin to drool at the sight of him.

He sighs shakily, hand leaning behind on the mattress to steady himself. “You’re gonna sit there like a good girl and make me cum, alright?”

You nod, eyes blown black with lust.

He grips the back of your head with one hand and guides his cock to your mouth with the other. You take his thick length in both hands, allowing a trail of spit to fall from your lips and cover his swollen tip, running down his shaft only to be collected and dragged back up by your fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel whispers, watching you. “Doin’ what I tell you, huh?”

A few strokes and his cock’s soaked. When his head lines up with your bottom lip and you open up wide, he pushes into your mouth, filling you up without stopping to let you catch your breath. You gag when he hits the back of your throat, and Joel groans.

“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.”

You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock.

“Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.”

He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again.

“Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.

“Yeah?” he bucks his hips up into your mouth. “You want ‘em to know? Why don’t I just take you downstairs right now, fuck you in front of everybody, huh? You like that?”

You whine, gasp something that sounds like a yes around his warm skin.

“Thought you would, fuckin’ dirty girl. Want everyone to see just how good you take me, hm? How fuckin’ wet you get for me?”

Your fingers reach for his balls, kneading them softly in your hands. Joel’s head tips back and he lets out a guttural groan.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “soakin’ wet all over the floor, lettin’ me fuck that pretty little mouth. Needed it bad, didn’t you?”

You follow the words he’s saying with your eyes, never taking your doe-eyed gaze off of him. He’s all you can see; the surrounding world blurred by lust and sex and by Joel.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he mutters.

You pull yourself off of him, disobeying his tight grip at the back of your head.

“Yeah?” you breathe, giving in to him. “Been thinkin’ about you, too.”

Joel almost looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. He’s never expecting any of what you say to come out of your mouth, is he?

Hell, you don’t expect half of what comes out of your fucking mouth these days.

You sink back down on him, eyes screwing shut with the feeling of him filling you up to the very bottom of your throat.

“So slutty, baby. You like that? Yeah?”

He’s speaking so soft but being so fucking rough, pushing you down onto his dick and then hauling you back off with a fistful of hair. His hips snap against your mouth and your hands leave his body to balance yourself on his thighs, stabilizing yourself with fingers through his loose belt loops.

You’re gagging on him, choking every time his salty head brushes against your throat, but Joel doesn’t stop. Each whimper, each muffled cry from you only pushes him closer, sends his head back in a wave of euphoria at the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth so good, the sounds of you choking on the size of him.

Your chin is soaked, dripping with spit and precum. Your cheeks dappled with tears. He doesn’t let up. You don’t fucking want him to. Your knees are slipping further apart, your cunt wetter than ever, dripping all over the plush carpet of the classiest hotel you’ve ever been in.

It’s fucking filthy, and you love every second of it.

Your lids grow heavy and you stare up at him, doused in rays from the window behind, blissed out on his body, him blissed out on yours, and you know he’s about to cum. His brows arch, his jaw falls slack. He’s focusing only on the feeling of your swollen lips around him, your throat contracting with each thrust of his hips.

He jerks, grunts out a, “Throat?”

“Uhuh,” you choke back, hands clamping around his thighs when he leans back.

One more jolt and he releases rope after rope of warm cum down you, painting the back of your throat and filling up your mouth. That all-too-familiar taste of Joel trickles all over your tongue.

He’s whispering, “Fuck, fuck, darlin’, fuck…” over and over, chanting your name, breathing curses and praises between.

When he stills and you feel him relax, your hands fall limp on your lap. You don’t move, not until Joel’s eyes flutter open and he slides his soft cock out of your mouth.

Your head rolls onto his thigh, eyes wide and soft as you gaze up at him. Equal parts enamored and painfully aroused.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells you. “Brats don’t get to fucking cum.”

There are words coming to your mind that you wouldn’t dare call him when he’s in this mood. Words you wouldn’t call him any other time, either, if it weren’t for the agonizing ache between your legs. This – fucking – guy.

You want to sob. Want to wrap yourself around his legs as he stands and beg him to throw you down on the bed, part your legs, use whatever the fuck he wants just to let you cum. Just to give you some release.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Dumb for this man.

He sits forward and tucks his limp cock back into his boxers, redoes his jeans. Then he leans down, scoops up your soaked panties and scrunches them in his fist. He slips them into his jeans pocket and, with a heaving sigh, pushes himself up from the bed.

You’re still squatted, knees apart, on the carpet. Arousal probably streaming out of you. Joel only lowers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you up to height. You still don’t believe he’s gonna let you walk out of here undealt with.

Until he wanders off toward the door, and there’s nothing left for you to do but follow.

Each step hurts, your thighs grazing against each other. Your naked cunt throbbing with every tiny movement.

Joel pauses at the door, turns the handle slowly, quietly, opening it just enough to poke his head and shoulders out, before beckoning you forward with a wave of his hand.

He blindly takes your wrist and leads you out of the room in a daze, letting the door close over as you both head back the way you came toward the staircase.

Under spotless chandeliers, past romantic paintings. Along the same plush carpet he’d shoved you along less than twenty minutes ago. Down the stairs, emerging at the bar, pair of you scanning the restaurant for your dad and Sarah. No sign of them.

“C’mon,” he nudges you, “still gotta get that bill.”

You stand by Joel’s side at the bar, catching a glimpse of the pair of you in the mirror opposite. Elbows touching, palms inches apart on the polished surface. Your heart swells to the point of almost hurting at the sight. The cover is back up, you’re back on planet earth; you’re nothing but a pair of acquaintances, friends at best.

Just a guy and his best bud’s daughter.

Joel’s tapping his credit card against the wood.

“What’s up?” you ask him.

“Hm?” he replies, eyes finding you, head still facing forward. Almost bracing for your dad’s appearance at any given moment.

“You’re being weird.”

“Ain’t being weird.”

“Still not gonna let me cum?”

He’s almost startled. You asked it quiet enough that nobody would’ve heard, if there were even anybody around you, but still. It feels like dangerous territory talking about it this out in the open.

“Nope,” he replies, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You know I’m gonna do it myself the second I get home, right?”

He shrugs. “You gonna call me?”

“Facetime you, if you want.”

His body goes rock solid. You knock into it, smirking. Before he can muster up a reply, the girl with the tattoo shows back up, smiling at Joel. He tells her the table number and she slides him the bill.

“How much is it?” you ask him.

He turns to look at you. “You won’t be findin’ out.”

You mock offense. A small part of you isn’t kidding. “’n why’s that?”

Joel ignores you. You twist over his arm to get a look and he bats you away, holding you at bay with his elbow while he places his card over the total amount and slides it back across the bar.

You admit defeat, though it kills you a little inside.

Joel does his little head nod again and you follow him to the exit. You walk out of the restaurant together, your chin as high as your shame will allow it, Joel’s parallel to his chest. Your dad’s stood against the truck deep in conversation with Sarah. Or, rather, Sarah’s deep in conversation at your dad.

“…so, she thought he was just textin’ his boys, but here she goes onto his Instagram messages, and it’s all these hearts, all these messages sayin’…”

“Where did you two get to?”

Joel opens the door for you silently, and you breathe a slightly awkward Thanks before climbing in.

Once he’s back in the front seat alongside your dad, he replies. “Charged me twice. Problem with the card reader.”

“I hope they apologized,” your dad says with a concerned tone. “Hope they ain’t tryin’ anythin’.”

“Nah,” Joel bats it away – unconvincingly. Or is that just because you know he just…you know.

Sarah’s still yapping – Kelly’s heartbroken, doesn’t know how she’s gonna go on. She – Sarah – is furious with Kelly’s boyfriend – ex-boyfriend? – his name is…Mike? Mick? Something beginning with M…Your ears are screaming.

“Happened to me once at a gas station. Charged twice for one tank a’ gas. I went back the next day ‘n asked the girl, she said she didn’t remember me. I showed her the bank statement, said, Why the hell would I need two tanks of gas for one vehicle? She had to call her manager. It was…insanity, Joel. You be careful.”

Joel’s pretending to listen, murmuring Right and Uhuh when appropriate, but he aims every second glance at you from the rearview mirror. You tug your skirt as far down your thighs as it’ll go, feeling exposed and guilty and ashamed and yet so fucking good all in one.

You can still taste him on your tongue. Your throat feels raw, your jaw sore. He knows it, from the looks he’s giving you in the mirror. It’s satisfaction, mixed with longing, mixed with guilt. Your underwear is in his front pocket. Your thighs clamp shut, feeling yourself seeping all over his backseat. One big, chaotic mess.

The car falls into silence, Sarah’s thumbs typing rapidly, Joel’s elbow propped against the window, cheek leaning on his knuckles. You lean your own head against the window, the engine drumming into your skull, the cold of the glass relieving your scorching skin. Your dad starts quietly singing again, and you wish you had the energy to put on a convincing voice to tell him to shut up.

“Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me, tonight, nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.”

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @vickywallace @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #cowboy like me

[anarchywoofwoof]

since it's the 21st night of September and i keep seeing all of the memes and gifs including my own, it's in my leftist nature to jump in with a bit of learning & essay material, so let's go ahead and get it out of the way.

to appreciate "September," you must appreciate the group who performed it: Earth, Wind & Fire.

Earth, Wind & Fire was headed by the legendary Maurice White, who wasn't just the heart and soul of the group, but he was also its driving force in so many ways, both literally & metaphorically. Maurice White wasn't just making music; he was making social statements, negotiating and navigating race relations, and tackling the music industry's problematic nature back in the 70s.

Mistah White (sorry, i had to), with his killer jazz drumming background, brought Earth, Wind & Fire into the spotlight at a time when music was getting pigeonholed by race. and they dominated both the R&B and pop charts. but the impact goes a little further than charts and accolades. no Maurice White? probably no "Thriller", no Outkast, no Pharrell, no Drake.

in the 70s, the big music labels that dominated the industry were just targeting white, middle-class youth. Maurice White looked at this scene and thought, "ok den bet" with Earth, Wind & Fire. he blended everything from Jazz in "Caribou" to Latin vibes in "Brazilian Rhyme.” the type of borrowed influence you hear in modern Pop, rap, and Hip Hop music is built mainly on the backs of artists like Maurice White. and he fought for his vision, pushing for his music to be promoted across the board, believing it had universal appeal.

you also can throw in the showmanship that Earth, Wind & Fire had; massive sets, fireworks, magic tricks (yes fucking magic tricks), and super iconic Afrocentric costumes. in a time when Black musicians were very much under pressure from the music industry, White used Earth, Wind & Fire's popularity to push for a deeper dialogue on race. bands like Earth, Wind & Fire also provided the soundtrack to the Black Power movement, which was in full swing around this time. another famous track they released, "Evil,” contains lyrics that hint toward Black musicians’ struggles in the 70s - the choice that wasn't a choice - to either be upbeat or stay silent.

Evil, runnin' through our brain We and evil's just about the same Bad blood through our body flows Where's the love nobody knows Nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows Beauty in our face you see Tryin' to hide all our misery Our misery, our misery, our misery

if you listen a bit closer with a racial context in mind, there’s an acute call for change in Earth, Wind & Fire's art, and a plea to make the world a better place. Maurice White's legacy is that he helped drive forward the progress of a cold, hard music industry and spin it into something more like gold.

thas' all. thanks for reading.

#earth wind and fire #music #social justice #bork bork thoughts

[thegratefulsouth]

If we were only friends, would it'a

hit me in this moment, quite so much, your flesh easin' in mine, your shadow o'cloth barely distractin' us. Takin' turns to roll the same damn near breath in an instant. Got swept up by some mist that doesn't exist, except between us. We were close, so close, our hearts alignin' an' I'd a'never known it was too much for me then, if we were only friends, if my hands hadn'ta stopped working like my breath in that moment. And we both know, back then, I ain't had the sense in women enough to think for a second 'bout what I could be startin'.

So when you smiled that way, your little tease and said those things, I was already flakin' an' backtrailin', thinkin' mistakes were ahead a'me. 'Cause I didn't want you to see that in me. 'Cause I'd never felt quite that way an' I couldn't understand it for the life o'me. S'why I was so quick to protest, believed you were jokin' when you said what you said. And why I put up that wall and we laughed and my knees quaked with intensity.

If we were only friends, you wouldn'a

leaned that way against my cell for me, when I came back. I feel that now, seen it time and again, others couplin' up around us, that way they move in the beginnin', like you did. Still, I could be imaginin', was just a sliver of a momen'. Was oblivious then, why you did it. Just saw it. You pushin' yourself, your ... yourself forward, like that, for me. It's the only indication, unspoken, of a spark you wanted somethin' more, that I've ever seen.

Noticed it though, locked it away with the good memories. Why else would I 'ave

driven myself into you? That same way you arched to me, like I'd wanted to, for so damn long, to find some chance to meet you like that, in that way. If we were only soulmates without any other needs?

And we were so damn close to startin' somethin', 'fore you were sent away. All this time and events but still, we never got back what never was, and shoulda been. Was never the same with us for such a long time, tryin' a find you again

and you me

with things happenin' the way they did, you runnin', an' me railin' against the wind, tryin' to square up wrongdoin's.

And when that stopped for awhile, I'd lost almost everythin'. Would I 'ave even gone away if what you did hadn't hurt? Not your fault, you was just livin'.

But if what we had was enough, nothin' more'an solidarity? Would I a'stayed away so long? 'Cause that hurt, too, to see you bein' another you, see you finally bein' all the things you needed to, havin' things I couldn't give you, 'cause I didn't know how to.

Would you 'ave tried so hard to push me away, set me up, settle me down with someone who didn't carry the baggage we had, who didn't doubt themselves and every scratch o'hope we'd gathered in the before times, that still haunt the sleepless hours.

And if we were only friends, would I 'ave tried so damn hard everyday to change an' grow for you, show you the man of honour you said you wanted

'til you threw it back at me. 'Cause y'know that's all I want to be, what I want you to see in me. I need you with me. Wish I could make you feel what I feel.

If we were only friends would I 'ave taken every chance I could, to look at you, drink you in, let each stroke and pulse, and touch, each heartbeat win. Just give in

no matter who else was noticin'. So I could live.

All this best friend shit, will I ever admit to you, what I, in waves tell others in every other second word, with my eyes, with my silence an' my breath, while I scream inside, and threaten and hide from you?

What I wouldn't do, and believe me I would, I will, if somethin' ever happens. Same as you'd do.

This ain't platonic Carol, ain't no cheap romance neither from the dollar bin, not like them ones you been readin'.

It's fuckin' special what we have, and I want more.

And I'll love you with my dyin' breath, and after, the way Rick said, as walkin' dead, even though we ain't them, not yet, not close. There's more. Will always be more.

We'll always be more than that.

TGS

Companion piece from Carol's perspective

Still images AMC and #1 unknown, #3 businessinsider.com, #4 riveralwaysknew

#caryl positivity #caryl #caryl is endgame #this needs 10 more gifs #maybe i can add them in the comments #they are best friends though #and soulmates #but they want what they want

[ellethespaceunicorn]

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out 

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Syverson x Female!Reader 

Word Count: 951

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU. 

Warnings: apocalypse AU, accidental pregnancy, language

A/N: A submission for @the-slumberparty BINGO challenge. My bingo squares include beach day, family friend, accidental pregnancy, and apocalypse. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist  

As you sit just past where the water rushes on the beach, you can feel the mist of the water on your face. Sea salt is in the air, and you relish the smell. You can remember coming to the coast with your family as a child. 

Of course, that was before the world decided to end. Before you had to change your entire way of life in the blink of an eye.  

Now, moments like this are but a distant memory. Your shoes are off. Your toes are buried in the sand. Saliferous wind from the ocean is blowing through your hair. Next to you is a duffel bag full of essentials, at least what you could grab on short notice.  

Escaping the compound turns out to be a bit trickier than you had hoped. But with a close friend at the guard station, you sneak by and out of the gates without a second glance. You make it out of town before dawn, watching the sun rise over the water. 

By now, you know that your superior officer will be conducting roll calls and noticing your absence. You did not care enough to go back, but you wish your brain would stop letting you worry about what was going through their brains. 

‘Is she alive?’ For now, yes. 

‘Did she go alone?’ Technically, no. 

The distant sound of tires on gravel does not surprise you. Neither does the noise of the rusty truck door opening and closing. The softness of sand being kicked up by big boots creeps up to the side of you. You do not have to look up to know who is next to you, but you do anyway. 

The dusty old camouflage pants with thigh holster and sweaty brown plain t-shirt gave him away in an instant, but your eyes continue higher. His unruly beard covers his irked expression, his mouth set to one side as he chews his inner cheek. You’ve known him long enough that he chews his cheek whenever he gets upset. 

He looks down into your eyes and you watch as they wander across your form. 

“Your brothers are worried sick about ya. I told ‘em I would come to look for ya,” He sits down in the sand next to you, “Runnin’ ain’t gonna fix our little problem.” 

“Our problem, Sy? First, it is not our problem. Second, it is not a problem. It is a baby. And this baby wasn’t exactly planned, I understand that. But I don’t expect you to do anything. We can get by on our own.” Your voice breaks and you hate that your eyes are blurry with unshed tears. 

“I wasn’t callin’ the baby a problem. And if ya think I’m lettin’ ya raise this little hellion on yer own, yer outta yer damn mind. Now, yer brothers are my best friends in this whole damn world. And yes, they’d kill my ass if they knew I got you pregnant. But they’d resurrect me and kill me again if they knew I’d let ya off on yer own. Shit, I’d kill my ass too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it does nothing to stop the fat tears that escape when you blink your eyes. The shuddering breath you take is enough to have Sy scooting closer to you and bringing you into his arms. 

“Don’t cry, Sweetness. We’ll figure this out. Together,” He kisses your forehead and snakes a hand down to your stomach, “Let’s give ‘em a chance, alright? Make a better world for ‘em and all that nonsense. I can’t fathom losing both of ya, let alone either of ya.” 

“We should have been more careful—” 

“Well, we weren’t bein’ careful. And now, we got a kid on the way. So what? Every time we face a little trouble, you gonna run?” He wipes away your tears, looking into your eyes again. 

“I’m really scared, Sy. What are we going to do?” The tremble in your voice has Sy holding you tight. 

“Well, to start, we tell yer brothers about the baby. Then, whaddya say we go over to the doctor, have everything looked at? Make sure he’s growing fine and everything.” 

You laugh, not able to hold your amusement. “He? You already know it’s going to be a boy?” 

“Well, ya know my folks had five boys. Yer parents had two before they had ya. Odds are it’s gonna be a boy, Sweetness.” 

“I’m a little shocked. What changed your mind about everything? You were not this verbal when I told you yesterday.”  

He bites his lip, looking out at the sea before answering. “I guess I was too scared to admit how I felt about ya. And then, outta nowhere, you give me the best gift in the world, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” He takes a shaky breath, then continues, “I’m sorry I waited ‘til now to say it, Sweetness. I love ya. I love ya, so damn much. And nothing would make me happier than to raise this little one with ya.” 

You climb into Sy’s lap, holding his face in your hands, and resting your forehead against his. “I love you too, Sy.” You lean in and slot your mouth against his. You allow him to take the lead as his hand tangles in your hair. 

Pulling back, you smile at each other. Nothing needs to be said. You turn in Sy’s lap and watch as the waves crash in and out. You have each other and you have this baby. With a love that burns bright like yours, neither Hell nor high water would be able to snuff it out. 

A/N: Title taken from There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths. It seemed perfect for this story. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @peyton-warren @raccoon-eyed-rebel @geralts-yenn @rebelangel1102

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #cpt syverson #syverson x reader #syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #syverson x you #syverson smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #captain syverson fanfic #henry cavill x you #apocalypse au

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 4.2

smut, behind scenes, filler.

“oh shit ma..”

hakari grabs your hips from behind, gripping on them with such vice and angles himself, slamming into that gummy spot again.

you curl your toes and roll your eyes back, moaning into the pillow on the couch as he plows into your juicy cunt. hed been pounding into you for about a good ten minutes, claiming that you were the one sucking him back in. but in actuality he was so needy for you, it had been so long since he had your pussy for himself. so he wasnt going to let you run.

“take this shit, stop runnin..” he groaned out, keeping a steady rhythm on his hips to make you clench and whine. “who pussy this is?”

“yours kin—uhh!” you cut yourself off with a moan, drooling into the pillow and reaching your hand back to his, only for it to be slapped away. “kinji fuck– please baby!”

“you can keep beggin’, i ain done with my pussy though.” he said with a slight growl, throwing his head back and his thrusts were faster, knocking the wind out of your body.

the moment could be soured when sinji decided to call, making you try and answer. “kin, hes callin, we gotta stop!”

“uh uh, ill be quiet unless you are.”

you rolled your eyes, answering the phone and having it on speaker. “yes sinji?”

“is that fucker still there?” he asks, anger and frustration apparent on his end. you reply no, asking him what he wanted.

“i dont like him, stop talking to him. do you forget what he does?” sinji says, only having hakari hear and slam into your cervix, kissing along your back as you silently moan. “hello?!”

“sinji, im sleepy. can we just.. talk about it tomorrow? promise.” you absently lie, biting your lip as hakari plays with your clit as he licks up your folds.

“you know what, fine, you better have a good excuse for me or imma be mad.” you hang up the phone, on for hakari to slide his dick back in and have a tit in his hand.

“thats my girl, take allat shit..” he moans, pressing his chest to your back and grinding the tip into your cervix. “fuck im gonna fucking cum..” he whispers in your ear, licking at it.

you squirm, feeling his cock convulse in your pussy and a wave of nervousness has you in a chokehold. “did you just cu-“ hakari cuts you off.

“you didnt feel the condom?” hakari asks, showing you the used condom he so filled, his seed pooling at the reservoir. “i wouldnt do that shit to you, babydoll.”

“oh..”

“the fuck you been with who did that shit? was it sinji? it was sinji. imma fuck him up—“ he rants, before you tap him.

“no, it wasn’t anyone, i promise.” you say, calming his nerves. he nods, kissing your plump lips so softly and wiping you with a warm towel.

you end the night with some movie he had picked, laying there half naked while he was fully dressed, because he had to leave early for his club, only to tuck you into bed when you were out cold. he kisses your forehead, turning on a fan, since you could not sleep without one, and turning off a light.

“night, babydoll.”

#jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk leaks #jujutsu gojo #hakari kinji #kinji hakari #hakari x reader #jjk hakari #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen

[gubbles-owo]

Since the reptilian tails are well taken care of let's get some words on Provence and... everyone's favourite Archetto. Clearly her tail as all the most superiour qualities, right?🥺

hh-hh-h eyp rovence couldi..,. maby e.... ,?

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESAE PLEASE *ahem* yeah hers is alright ig. Provence tail rating: i am going to sleep in it .....meme entry aside, yeah, Provence not only has a rather long and delightfully floofy tail, but she is (to my knowledge anyway) the only operator that openly invites you to touch it. This on its own is incredible tbh, but it is also purple, which as we all know doubles its desirability. I will say, the way her tail is drawn kind makes it looked like it's clumped or grouped in thicker strands, like it kinda looks a bit messy? But in a good way. She's runnin around sticking her nose in volcanoes and whatnot, thing's bound to get tangled. Looks like it has some significant weight to it, but I might be wrong there. I really really want to see this thing in motion tbh. Get a sense of how that thing follows and flows around in everyday life. I wonder... if under specific wind conditions, that her tail ever interferes with her aim out on the field... Also does she do the thing where she tucks her tail up between her legs and hugs it like a pillow while sleeping? Cause like. If you're not doing that with your fluffy-as-fuck tail then what's the point?? Fuck it that's canon now. i the almighty and powerful gubbles decree it. SO SHALL IT BE. Archetto doesn't seem to have very much reference that shows off her tail, but you did provide some interesting details I never would've caught (after i asked if you had more reference, of course)

Definitely one of the thinner tails out there, so I can't say I'm personally too excited about this one from a structural point of view. HOWEVER: with such a light weight and size I imagine it must be very expressive. That's kinda the fun part about tails, y'know? Much like posture or fidgets, they're yet another avenue for body language to come forth, another little insight about a particular person you might not've been able to infer without. (that said i honestly do not know much about archetto as a character so i'm going entirely off of vibes here LMFAO)

Apparently she tucks the end of her tail behind her ear while sitting!! This is stupid cute. Adorable, even. What that fancy lil' tail doin' there

#gubbles' official tail ratings #provence arknights #archetto arknights

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

ASG - Part Two: Burnin' Love

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yeah, by me 💀

Prompt: Elvis sweeps Bird outside to the lake to cool down on a hot day. Spoiler, she doesn't cool off, but it’s not the temperature that has her sweating. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Nothing tbh? this is vanilla af

Rating: M     ||     Word Count: 4442

A/N: this might be my favorite smut that i've ever written...

This is Part 2 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

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She happens to be passing through the living room when a knock on the door comes. She's suddenly very pleased to be the one who opens it since Elvis is standing on the other side. It's been a week or so since their little walk and they've managed to see each other a couple of times. Mostly, he would walk her home after work. Paranoid that someone would see her and tell her father, Bird hasn't let anything happen that would have been too scandalous. Elvis respects her wishes and she appreciates it.

“Elvis?”

“Hi baby, how ya doin’?” he asks, smiling and stepping inside the house.

She curls her fingers into her palms and then grabs him by the shirt sleeve.

“This a nice house ya got he-”

He cuts off when she harshly drags him into a corner of the room, behind a bookcase.

“Thank you, but I’d appreciate it if ya didn’t alert my daddy your presence,” she responds, glancing out from behind a stack of books to see if her father is anywhere near. When she swivels back around, she jumps back at how close Elvis is to her face.

“Why not, baby girl?”

His arms wind around her waist and start to pull her toward him. She sucks in a breath and clenches her jaw, trying to keep his hands off her.

“Because he’ll probably kill ya,” she responds, glancing around again. “He don't like greasers or singers. Or anyone who ain't a devout Christian.”

“Well good news for ya daddy, I am a devout Christian.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not nearly devout enough for my daddy. ”

“Well if we ain’t gonna have any fun in this house, let’s get outta here then,” he says, nuzzling his face into her neck. She stifles a giggle.

“Stop that! What would we even do?” she asks.

“We could go for a walk,” he says, kissing her jaw, “or look at the record store,” he kisses her neck, “I don’t care where we go as long as I’m with you.”

She finally manages to release him from her neck and smile.

“It’s too damn hot for all that,” she replies, feeling a streak of bold lust. “We could go down to the lake? That oughta cool us off.”

“Ain’t nothing in the world that could cool you off, mama.”

“Just go,” she says, flushing. She pushes him toward the door. “Before daddy sees you. Or worse, sees me with you.”

He holds up his hands defensively and walks toward the door. She pauses with her hand on the knob and inhales a sharp breath.

“I’m goin to Bible study with the girls, daddy!” she shouts. “I’ll be back round dinner time.”

And she shuts the door as quickly as she dares. She grabs Elvis’ hand and pulls him along.

“What are we runnin for?” he asks and she can't help but laugh.

“Cause I shouldn’t be doin this!” she shouts back.

The heat is suffocating. Even though it's a short walk, she's sweating profusely by the time they get to the lake. Coming up the hill, she strains to get a glimpse of the chilled water. She knows that even seeing it will make her feel cooler.

“Oh god bless,” she shouts as she finally reaches the top of the hill, where she can overlook the water. Her mouth is practically salivating at the beauty of the cold water blowing in the wind.

“This is gonna feel nicer 'en heaven,” Elvis says, quickly pulling his shirt off.

As he lifts it off his head, she sneakily eyes his torso, taking in its beautiful curves and muscles. Her eyes flick back to the water quickly when his face reappears. She's never seen a man’s torso before. Every man in her life has always been buttoned up to the jaw, or her daddy would have killed them the moment she brought them home. She gasps, throwing her open palm against her forehead.

“Somethin wrong?” Elvis yells from halfway down the hill.

“Elvis, I don’t have a swimsuit,” she shouts back. He laughs and waves his hand dismissively.

“Well, why didn’t ya bring one?”

She pauses for a moment, overcome by what she's done and the situation she's gotten herself into.

“I forgot,” she finally responds.

“Well you’re in luck, baby. You don’t need it. Just get down to ya underwear,” he smirk.

She scoffs, shaking her head, and placing her hands on her hips. She gnaws on her lip nervously as she looks out over the water. The heat is causing her to sweat in places she didn't even know existed. She's been too distracted to notice that Elvis has walked all the way back up to her.

“Lil Birdie, earth’s calling. She wants you back on the planet. And so do I,” Elvis’ voice next to your ear snaps your attention to him. 

She smiles at the use of a nickname. She likes it.

“I’m 'ere. Just tryin to decide what to do.”

“I already told ya. Underwear!”

His fingers dance along the hem of your top and you slap his fingers away.

“Elvis Presley, I am not strippin down to my underthings. Especially not in the middle of the woods with you,” she replies, poking his chest with a finger.

“Aw, come on, Lil Birdie. What’s the difference?”

She says nothing, so he starts to stretch his arms out over his head. Her eyes nervously glance between the lake in front of her and his naked skin. She can see the sweat shining on every curve of his body.

“Man is it hot out 'ere,” he says. "Bet that water would feel nice on our bare, hot skin."

He runs his fingers through his hair and lets a few strands fall into his face. His biceps flex when he intertwines his hands behind his head.

She feels frozen. The heat mixes with lust in the air, and she can't breathe. Her heaving chest is the only part of her body she can access at the moment. She doesn't even know what to do with herself. Sure, she's dated boys before, but she's never felt like this. She doesn't even know what these feelings are.

“Aright, fine,” she finally chokes out in a voice much weaker than she anticipates.

She nervously starts to undo the buttons of her white blouse. She feels his eyes on her, watching her fumble with each tiny circle. She finally has them all unbuttoned and gulps before shrugging the blouse off her shoulders and letting it drop into the grass below her. She glances up at him to see Elvis staring at her intently, his eyes dark. She feels like she's about to faint, but she somehow manages to untie the string to her skirt and let it fall alongside her top. She immediately reaches to cover her body with her arms, but he's already walking toward her.

He smiles softly and tilts his head. She knows he's coming in for a kiss, but she's scared. Everything in her body tells her to let him touch her, kiss her, do whatever he wants to her. But her mind is screaming to get out, run away. Escape. Her brain and heart are in an impossible tug-of-war until he reaches out for her cheek. Panic sets in, and she turns and runs for the edge of the cliff.

“Lil Birdie, what the hell you do-”

She misses what he says after that because she's jumped over into the water. As she resurfaces, reveling in the feeling of cold water on her suffering skin, she's mortified. What just happened?

“What in the Sam Hill…” she hears him murmur from above the cliff.

The lake is more of a pond really, not too deep that she can't stand. She pushes herself back against the rocks in the shadows, where he can't see her. She's both embarrassed and angry with herself. She knows she overreacted but she isn't sure how to handle these situations. Her daddy’s face just keeps popping into her mind. She hears a holler and freezes in the shadows before a giant wave of water splashes onto her.

When Elvis' head pops up above the water, he's laughing. She freezes again, wishing she was dead. He swims over to her and props himself up on a rock.

“You’re fuckin crazy, girl. You know that?” he says, breathless.

It's too much for her. The way he looks, how he speaks, his body, it's all too much. The way he said it with such a deep, raspy, labored voice and the fact that he used that word. That swear word she's never heard anyone say in real life, not even her own father.

He sits, staring at her with water droplets gracefully rolling off his skin. The sun on the water reflects in his blue eyes and makes them seem even bluer than possible. His hair is pushed all the way back, curling around his ears. His muscles are taught, holding his weight against the rocks. All of that is distracting, sure, but her eyes can't - for all the money in the world - tear themselves away from his lips. Wet with the water, they are parted and pouted out, waiting for her to say something. Waiting for her to do something.

“Birdie, you aright?” he asks, reaching out for her arm.

She must look quite the picture, sitting there heaving like a caveman with her mouth hanging open. She doesn't respond, the embarrassment increasing. He plops down into the water and grabs her shoulders gently.

“Hey, Bird, are you okay?” he asks, pronouncing every word slowly.

Her gaze has fallen to the water, but he hooks a finger underneath her chin and tilts her face up. Concern is written all over his features. She finally finds her voice, what little she can squeeze out.

“Y-yes, I’m jus fine,” she replies and watches as his shoulders visibly relax.

“Gave me a scare there, Lil Birdie,” he says, letting a smile break.

“Sorry, I…” she trails off, not knowing what to say.

“Damn this water feels good don’t it,” he says, flipping onto his back and floating for a moment. She's still trying to recover from her own lustful panic when he opens an eye and throws her a mischievous smirk.

“What are you thinkin?” she asks, a smile finally spreading across her face.

He looks her up and down for a quick moment and then splashes her with a ton of water. She wipes her eyes down with her mouth open in shock. When she can see him again, holding his stomach with laughter, she laughs herself.

“How dare you!” she yells and splashes him back.

He splashes her again and then grabs her ankle, pulling her toward him. She yelps and screams, fighting him and laughing. He grabs her all over to bring her to him - her hips, her waist, and finally both of her wrists. They both stop to laugh, and when the laughing fades, there they still are. She's helpless in his grasp. He holds firmly, not painfully, just firmly onto her wrists. And he holds them close to his chest. Their bodies are touching, from her hips all the way down to her toes. There's a moment of tense silence, both of them eyeing each other's lips. Something in her face must have changed.

“Y'afraid of me...” he says.

He means it as a question, but it comes out more like a statement. She gulps, searching his eyes, and then shakes her head.

“Good. Cause I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I ain’t even gonna touch ya if you don’t want it,” he says, starting to release her wrists.

Panic sets in again, and she catches one of his retreating hands by the finger. His eyes immediately follow it and he just barely grins. He gently turns her around and folds her arms into his own. She's facing the tiny waterfall draining a thin stream of clear water into the lake. It's incredibly relaxing. Elvis’ soothing embrace also puts her at ease. His thumb rubs her palm sweetly, and she closes her eyes feeling her strength slowly come back.

“Elvis Presley, you are somethin else entirely.”

His head rests on her shoulder, and she can feel his breath on her neck. It tickles, and she only tenses for a moment. But that's long enough. As her muscles flex, so do his. Their bodies press together. And something she's only heard about, never seen, presses itself against her backside. She can't stop her mouth from falling open with a distressed gasp slipping out. All the feelings that are just beginning to fade suddenly return with fire. She feels his fingers brush the hair off her shoulder and he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to the skin. Her eyes close and her head leans back.

“How you doin, lil mama?” he says in an impossibly low voice and she sucks in another breath. “Is this aright?”

She says nothing but breathes out a quiet moan and grasps his hand tighter. He continues to press soft kisses to her shoulder, neck, and ear. And she continues to wriggle in his strong grasp. He stops by her ear, his cheek pressed against her temple.

“Tell me what ya want,” he mumbles and his voice seems somehow even deeper.

It takes everything in her not to moan out her answer. She knows that if she opens her mouth, all her sins will be released. So she keeps it shut, saying nothing.

“Tell me, mama. I wanna hear you say it to me,” he says again, but she presses her lips closed even tighter. 

He laughs breathily in her ear, and his fingers grip her waist, pulling her deeper into his body. When she still doesn't say anything, his hand starts to press lower down her body. She starts to convulse with all the energy trying to keep herself in. The minute his fingers pull on the inside of her thigh, she's done. She loses all control of her body and moans. Loudly. Everything about him is immoral, illegal, sinful. And she wants more than anything to become a criminal, a sinner.

“I want you,” she breathes out and twists around in his arms. “I want all of you right now.”

That's all he needs. He grabs onto her face with both hands, holding her lips to his until she almost can't breathe. His lips move hungrily, lustily, without control all over her. Her fingers get lost in his skin, grasping onto his chest, his back, his hair. Anywhere they can touch each other, they do. He grabs her jaw and moves her head to the side, biting and sucking on her neck. She yelps and moans again, digging her nails into him. He holds out one of his hands and starts to walk her back toward the rocks. She moves wherever he directs her, letting every breath go with a moan attached to it. He gently presses his body against hers on the rocks. It isn't the most comfortable place, but the gentleness with which he guides her and the way he curls his arm around her to protect her from the sharpness of the rocks only makes her want to stay there forever.

He releases her neck and she knows she's marked. But she banishes the thought and grabs his face to kiss him again. His hands slide under her thighs and hoist her up onto his hips. Wrapping her legs around him, she squeezes him and moans at the feeling of him against her. He traces her top lip with his tongue, and she opens wide for him. She doesn't know what she's doing, but it doesn't take long for him to show her what to do. Her jaw starts to ache and she puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“Y'okay, baby girl? Is it too much?”

She laughs and bites her lip.

“No, no, it’s good. I just can’t breathe.”

“Let’s slow down a lil bit. How’s that sound?”

She nods and takes a deep breath. He smiles and slides his hands behind her back to effortlessly unclip her bra. After he's gently pulled the straps from her shoulders, he kisses the naked skin. He leaves her bra on a flat rock near them and looks up at her. He gently cups her breast and glances into her eyes. She nods and runs a hand through his hair. He smirks and goes to work on her but much softer this time around. He gently massages her breasts and peppers them with hot, sticky kisses. He nips at her nipple and she gasps. She doesn't even know they have feeling until then. He can tell that she likes it and buries his face in her chest, licking, biting, and sucking every part of the skin that's there. She leans her head back against the rocks and closes her eyes.

“Oh, Elvis…” she breathes out, and he moans into her nipple.

As he keeps working her breasts, she feels his thumbs fall down to her hips and hook into her underwear. He pauses, waiting for permission and she pushes his hands down, taking her underwear with them. She lifts her foot up to help him, but the panties get tangled in the holes and she stumbles forward. He releases her breast with a chuckle and she smoothes her hair back and laughs. He tries again and manages to get her underwear off, without issue this time, and piles it onto the bra.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable. I don’t wanna knock ya head on no rocks over here,” he says and she nods.

He takes her hand and pulls her across the water to the other side, where there's a small sandbank. He pushes her up onto the bank and climbs on top of her, brushing her hair out of her face. The shallow tide covers her legs like a blanket. She's about to lean up for a kiss when she catches him looking at her intensely. His eyes travel up and down her figure, and he smiles.

“Goddamn,” he says, biting his lip. “I ain’t never seen a body like this before. Why you keepin all this covered up, girl?”

She laughs and thinks of a quick-witted response.

“If I didn’t, boys would be all over me all the time. You don’t want that do you?”

He runs a hand down her naked body and she shudders.

“Hell no, I don’t want that.”

He starts to kiss her neck again and then trails kisses down her stomach. He grabs her back to lift her hips up toward his lips and nips at the bone. She bites her lip and squirms. He props up one of her legs and kisses the inside of it, starting with the knee and trailing down her thigh. Her body takes over, and she reaches down to tangle her hand in his hair. As he gets closer and closer to where she needs him most, she starts to convulse under his touch. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, smirking.

“Do it,” she says without hesitation. “Right now.”

She can tell her commands surprise him, but he wastes no time sliding his tongue into her folds. Her hands fall beside her ears and grasp at the sand she lies on. He makes every shape imaginable around her pussy and she curls her toes to keep from moving too much. Her moans are so loud that anyone within a five-mile radius could hear her but nothing in her cares enough to silence it. Her moans get faster and quieter and her back arches further and further into the air.

Suddenly, nothing. She's throbbing, but there is no stimulation. She's literally writhing around the sand and opens her eyes to see Elvis standing above her, hastily removing his underwear with labored breathing. She pushes herself further up onto the sand, and he kneels between her legs, giving her sloppy kisses all up her stomach and chest. When he returns to her lips, she can taste herself on him. His mouth is warm and wet with her juices, and she wraps her arms around his neck to bring him closer. He snakes an arm under her and repositions his legs so he's gently laying on top of her. His hand slides down her side and presses gently on her stomach, squeezing out another moan. She doesn't know what's happening until his finger is sliding into her. She grasps and grabs onto his shoulder.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, freezing, eyes going wide.

“No, no,” she smiles. “I jus never know what to expect with you.”

He returns the smile.

“I’ll go slow and give you time,” he says. “You jus tell me when you’re ready for more, Lil Birdie.”

He returns to kissing her and leaves his finger inside her pussy for a few minutes so she can adjust. It doesn't take long, since she's already so hungry for him. She gently bucks her hips and he responds by slowly and steadily pumping in and out of her folds. Her toes curl again, and she grasps onto his hair. Her hips fall into a rhythm with his finger and just when she's starting to feel too much he pulls it out.

“W-what are ya doin??” she asks, and he gives her a grim look.

“Listen, I just wanna explain somethin to ya,” he says, brushing some hair behind her ear. “This is usually the part where…”

“Where what?” she asks, sitting up. “I’m not afraid no more, Elvis. You can tell me.”

He nods and then laughs.

“Well, this is usually the part where I fuck ya brains out,” he says, and she flushes furiously. “But there���s this thing called a condom…”

“Elvis, I know what a condom is,” she says nodding. Her father has refused to give her sex education, but knowing she would be safer with basic knowledge, he has told her a few things.

“Well god forbid you should have sex with anybody but me,” he continues and she giggles nervously, “but you should always use one. It stops the babies from comin. Now I’m not sayin I don’t want a baby with you, cause maybe I will one day. But I don’t wanna ruin our lives right now.”

She nods.

“So Imma finish makin you feel good, and I don’t want you to worry about me, aright? You’re doin plenty for me by bein so goddamn sexy.”

She bites her lip and pulls him down to kiss her. He slides his finger back into her pussy, and she releases a contented breath. She's ready quicker this time and bucks her hips to get him going. After a few minutes of pumping in and out, he adds another finger and then one more. Her moans are back, and they're filling the air, one after the other. Relentless. She can sense her stomach churning, and it feels like she's climbing a mountain of ecstasy. Every step forward is like a wave coming to its peak only to raise even higher above the sea.

“Goddamn, you’re so loose, baby,” he mutters. She doesn't really know what he means but she likes the way he says it, the approval in his voice. His thumb goes to her clit and starts to rub circles on it. She hasn't realized it could get any better and arches her back even more.

“You like that, mama?” she moans louder and he speeds up. “Yeah, I know you like that.”

The next few moments feel like a whirlwind, and she loses track of everything. Her body starts moving in ways she isn't in control of. His hand is upright above her head and she reaches up to grab it. He intertwines his fingers with hers and pins her hand there, stretching her arm out. He kisses her neck again and her eyes flash open. She cries out and convulses, gripping hard into his fingers. She's reached the top of the mountain, and it's more beautiful than anything in the world.

As her orgasm starts to wind down, Elvis removes his fingers and presses his palm against her folds. When she's finally back to normal, her arms go limp and she lies perfectly still like a vegetable. There isn't a word spoken and the air is filled only with her mixing breaths, the sound of the waterfall, and the birds.

“You doin okay, baby?” Elvis asks, reaching for her hand.

He holds it so gently now that she can't have imagined he's capable of grasping it as tightly as he was just a moment ago. She nods, the feeling coming back into her body. A euphoric smile spreads across her face, and she feels more beautiful than ever. If this is what sin feels like, she wants more of it. He brushes some of the sweat-stuck hair from her forehead. After a moment, she speaks up.

“You know my daddy says condoms are the devil at work,” she says, unable to stop the thought from popping out. After a moment of silence, Elvis laughs and laughs. She smiles, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“You know what, Lil Birdie,” he says, leaning over to kiss her forehead, “sometimes I think maybe ya daddy’s the devil.”

“Well that’s cause he is,” she responds and Elvis’ smile grows bigger. “I didn’t know any uh that was possible. It was…”

“Good, I hope?”

“Elvis,” she says, propping herself up on her elbows. “I have never felt like that in my life. I feel like a different person. I ain't afraid. Of nothing, I don’t think. I suddenly wanna try new things, run through the grass with my shoes off, do somethin crazy.”

He laughs, flopping back onto the sand and rubbing her back.

“Don’t worry, Lil Birdie, I’ll show you what real sex is like a different time,” he replies, laying back on the sand.

She leans over to kiss him. He pulls her on top of him and wraps his arms around her back. These kisses are gentle, warm, and maybe even a little bit loving. When she pulls back, they just stare at each other for a minute.

“It’s a date,” she finally agrees, kissing his forehead. “Now, I may feel bolder but I ain't going home without no underwear on. Go fetch my underthings, Presley.”

“I’d worry less about the underwear and more about those marks all over your neck,” he says and her mouth falls open.

“Fuck."

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#elvis #elvis 2022 #milasfics #milaselvisfics #milasthings #milaselviscontent #austin butler #elvis imagine #elvis fic #dirty deeds #asg

[flowers-of-io]

“Masks are meant to conceal, but they reveal more about us than we realize.” —Eva Levante

Read on Ao3

Enina and her Ghost sat on the patio of a small café in the Riverside district, watching the evening lights of the City flicker on the water. It was a picturesque spot: the river coiled here around a small peninsula, barely large enough for a few buildings stuck closely together, and two bridges reached out from it diagonally in opposite directions. The venue was almost empty this late into the evening, and nobody but them braved to sit outside in the damp October chill, but far out on the other bank silhouettes of people still moved against the pale lights of shopping windows.

A gust of wind tugged at Enina’s hair, blowing some of them into her face. She was a beautiful woman, with dark skin, full lips and green eyes framed by sharp, regal features. Black curls spilled freely over the scarf around her neck and the suede coat underneath. The hands she was warming around a mug of mulled wine were slender and long-fingered, several rings shimmering on them in the lanternlight. She looked just on the right side of unapproachable—like someone who could lounge on a divan in a dark corner, observing the party with sharp eyes, and nobody would dare to come up and bother her for the extent for the night, even if only to offer champagne.

All of this made her a perfect disguise.

“‘Remembering the dead’ my ass” Immaru said. “It’s not like Guardians need an excuse to shoot at things. It’s fucking stupid.”

Savathûn looked at him with amusement.

“Don’t you find it even a little fascinating how similar their views on mortality are to ours?”

“Duh, where?” He sneered, his (stolen) Almost Mighty Shell tilting to one side. “I don’t recall the Hive runnin’ around firing guns at pumpkins.”

“I’ve told you before about how the Hive see death.” She gently rocked the mug and watched a slice of orange rise to the surface and ruin the image of the Traveler-less sky reflected in it. “Our mythoi are not so different, at the heart of it. The Hive believe soulfire is the immortal part of a person, the connection to the Sea of Screams, but unlike one’s Ascendant form, it can’t be destroyed so easily. Death is only and forever an ending, but the essence persists… Funny, when you think about it, that something endowed to us by the worm gods is at the core of our faith in the afterlife.”

“Isn’t that heresy?”

“Don’t underestimate the Hive’s proficiency in warping the tenets of the sword logic to accommodate our existential fears,” her mouth quirked. “How different is our faith in one’s continued existence through their legacy from the Human beliefs in remembering as a way to keep the dead living on? The Unseen Sister is a comforting alternative to perpetual oblivion.”

“So you’re saying that Oryx’s soul, or whatever, is still somewhere out there?” Immaru said incredulously.

“Perhaps.” Savathûn raised the mug to her lips. “That is my sister’s copium of choice, anyhow.”

The Ghost rolled his eye.

“From what these two nerds have gathered, either Human myths are stupid as fuck, or they are stupid as fuck. Did you know they believe it’s Hive magic that’s creating those… Headless Ones? I don’t think that Fallen’s ever seen a Hive in her entire life.”

Savathûn cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, dear. What can we learn from that?”

“That Guardians are only interested in loot and candy?” Immaru sneered.

“A culture’s ghost stories can tell us much about its people’s fears.”

“Yeah, and they’re afraid of four meters tall ghouls with flaming pumpkins for heads.”

“And Hive bodies,” she pointed out.

“...Fair point,” he acquiesced.

“I expected you to feel flattered by this,” Savathûn’s smile flickered deep in her eyes. “They’re afraid of us. What an advantage that is!”

Immaru grumbled, and there was the smallest hint of fluster in it. “Yeah, well. That was pretty obvious, wasn’t it.”

“Oh, my love,” she crooned in a honey-sweet voice, and reached for him. It felt strange—five soft fingers wrapping around his core, a small hand cupping his shell. Immaru let her stroke his spikes for a while, some very Hive emotion on her face that the Human features struggled to convey. He freed himself when he could no longer stand her piercing gaze.

He nestled between her neck and the folds of her scarf instead, pressed against her pulse. It throbbed with the illusion of a human heartbeat, but underneath it he could sense the familiar rhythm of her Hive heart, growing louder and more defined the more he focused on it. Savathûn raised a hand and stroked the rim of his shell. He shuddered and bristled, at first, but then leaned into the touch and let it press him closer to her strange, warm, false skin.

He wasn’t jealous of what Runi had with Ór. He would die if his Lightbearer kept him around so close he might’ve as well been her extra body part, with no room to breathe. Did that guy even have hobbies? He seemed to be tied to her like algae in lichen, in something that was supposed to be symbiosis but turned out as him fretting and flying around after her to get her ass out of her own trouble. Immaru could never do that. He was self-sufficient, he’d been self-sufficient for centuries, and nothing about him had changed only because he’d finally found his chosen corpse. Savathûn could do whatever she wanted for all he cared, and the more space she left him to focus on his own thing, the better for them both. He was his own person, and he could very much fend for himself.

He’d also missed her.

He’d missed her laughter and her velvety voice, her songs and stories and the way she tipped her head back when she was amused. He’d missed not falling asleep alone. He’d missed her, and he was furious at Guardians for taking her from him so soon and leaving him to pick up the pieces, and he was furious at her for trading him away—because he could never have refused, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to refuse anything she’d ask of him, anything at all. He was furious at himself for feeling like this. He was more than a dog on her fancy leash; she could have everyone else wrapped around her talon, but she still needed him, and it had still been his decision—his own, he’d made this choice himself, and even if he’d done it for her sake... well, what gives?

He hated the thought that he needed her back. But she was supposed to be his.

Savathûn hummed, a sound from deep within her chest vibrating up her throat and through her skin. Immaru loathed how much it calmed him. If he closed his eye, he could almost pretend they were in the throne world, back in that first week, drunk on the chaos and victory and new purpose and their exquisite scheme ticking on towards resolution. He’d slept in the crook of her neck, and ordered the Brood around perched on her shoulder, and really, really believed they would win. Everything had been set up perfectly. He’d laughed at the contingencies, back then, no matter how serious Savathûn’s eyes had been when she’d made him listen to all of them.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, most of them angry and jagged and pushing forth to the forefront of his mind with a scream, and the rest insignificant questions like Do you love me and When can I come home. He hadn’t been afraid of telling her anything, before, but now…

They sat in silence, watching the lights gradually go off in one storefront after the other.

“The last time I was here, you could barely see the stars,” Savathûn spoke. “The Sky obscured the sky, ironically enough.”

Immaru couldn’t tell if she expected him to chuckle or cringe, so he only gave an unidentified hum.

“You can’t see shit with all the city lights anyway,” he grumbled.

“Humans can’t, maybe.” There was a smile in her voice. She tilted her head up to look at the stars. “Terran constellations always struck me as exquisitely beautiful. Some part of me still marvels at a clear sky unclouded by a gaseous atmosphere.”

“What do you see, then?”

“A worm god,” she chuckled to herself. “Mmm… The stern of the Dreadnaught. And my siblings fighting. And, ah…” Another chuckle, softer this time. “If you asked a Hive to name any given constellation in any given sky, you can bet the first one they’d find would be Auryx defeating Akka.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“It is. But once again, such is the power of myths.”

“Boring,” Immaru said. “D’we have it in the sky at home, then?”

“That depends only on your interpretation.”

“You made that sky.”

“In that case,” she reached for the mug of her rapidly cooling wine, “we do.”

“Hey, and what about, hm, a Hive Knight biting off Ikora Rey’s head? Do we have that too?”

Savathûn laughed, her alien skin vibrating like the membrane of a drum. Immaru nuzzled into it.

“Perhaps,” she took a sip of the wine and looked up at the sky again. “Perhaps.”

#still not over these two clowns #gripping the table so hard my nails break #my fics #aunt savathûn #immaru #destiny 2 #festival of the lost #season of the witch #hive #enina

[autumnalwalker]

Songs and Ships Tag

Rules: write about two to five songs from them that represent your a ship between your ocs (it can be platonic or romantic or a secret third thing). then add a quote from said wip (if possible!) underneath it.

Thank you for the tag, @theprissythumbelina.

Passing the (optional) tag to @blind-the-winds, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @void-botanist, @theimperiumchronicles, @ieppiq, and an open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.

So, now here's Sullivan and Road from Empty Names being "a secret third thing". Think of these all as being sung from Sullivan's perspective to Road, and in roughly chronological order:

Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

Dear fellow traveler under the moon I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue You put your hand out, opened the door You said, "Come with me, boy, I want to show you something more"

You spoke my language and touched my limbs It wasn't difficult to pull me from myself again And in our travels, we found our roads You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose

Eternity by Mizz Fish

Friends like you are hard to find So I’ll stick with you til the end of the line We aren’t perfect but that’s alright

All your dreams, your passions, ambitions You’ve told them to me like a man on a mission And I’ve done the same to you many times

Somehow we made our way here just by lookin around Somehow we knew what was lost had somehow been found Because of you I knew I could be who I wanted to be without feelin a fool In front of those who don’t understand Because of you I knew that sometimes you may be hurtin But that cannot stop you from feelin deserving And following your dreams You come runnin when I fall even if I don’t make a call for help No one needs their eyes to see We’ll be friends for eternity

Trying times and metal struggles I know for a fact you’ll be there on the double Because you won’t want me to feel alone

And anytime you need someone beside you A shoulder to cry on, a friend to stay true You know I would never let you down

The Funnyman's Smile by Michael McCormic Jr.

Well, I had a dream I was trapped in a cave with nothing but a magic lamp I polished its side, and out you came with gold shackles around your hands You said, "Son, I think there's something people like you and me should know" Life is more than empty jokes and putting on a show 'Cause you can make the world smile, and get nothing in return And in the end you find that what you give is what they think you're worth Then you offered me three wishes, but I saw only one worth while" I said, "I want the chance to make the Funnyman smile Oh, give me a chance, a chance to show you"

Funnyman, you're not alone No, even when you're crying I'll be there to hold you close And tell you everything will be alright

Because doctors still need checkups Bartenders need a drink or two The funnyman, still needs to smile And these days, I do, too 'Cause all the times you made me laugh Now they feel a little colder To know that when life knocked you down You cried on your own shoulder 'Cause you can make the world forget its problems for a while But who was there to make you smile? Tell me, who was there to make the Funnyman smile? Oh, to make the Funnyman smile

Ship in a Bottle by fin

You can fit everything you know In a bottle for you to show Pick your brain apart and put it in And build it again with needles and pins Everything you have earned is a ship With blue waves crashing into it But nothing can touch your happy thoughts anymore With your glass ceiling, walls, and floor

Between My Teeth by Orla Gartland

And I-I-I bite my tongue 'Cause I don't know how to tell you I'm getting this urge to run And I-I-I bite my tongue 'Cause I don't know how to tell you Oh, you deserve someone else Who can treat you like I want to

Oh, ah, ah, please don't lean on me 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth I, I think I better leave 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth I can't take the pressure of it, I can barely breathe Ah, ah, please don't lean on me 'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth, no

Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copely

See, I could choose for the both of us And you'd just go along because You've trusted me for no good reason Love no matter what the season

Force the last page of our story You're my favourite allegory Hope to god that you'll forgive me My mistakes will long outlive me Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all And I'll watch you fall

And I don't know if this makes it any easier Perhaps you'll find comfort when I say You and I are nothing more than meteors Never meant to live long past today

Yes, I'll choose for the both of us You'll just go along because You've trusted me against your judgement You deserve someone who doesn't

Force the last page of your story No more boring allegories Hope to god you'll rise above me Though you'll always be part of me Mine, mine is the unkind, kindest cut of all I'll watch you fall

Now watch me fall

And now a snippet:

“I see.  I’ll leave you to it then.  Just try not to rough anyone up too badly while you’re there.”

“Of course not.”  Unlike with this job, Sullivan had given his friend his word about certain aspects of his conduct ahead of time.  It had been long indeed since the last time his friend had simply explained a situation and left with no implication other than that they wouldn’t ask questions about what Sullivan chose to do with the information.  It was certainly one way to keep their conscience clean.  “Sleep tight,” he adds.

“I’ll try.  See you later.” 

The line goes silent but there’s no click of a hangup.

Sullivan moves to the kitchen, checks the freezer, and finds it surprisingly boring.  No stashed electronics, frozen potions, or preserved body parts.  He grabs a carton of ice cream, kicks another body out of the way so that its partially-crushed head won’t hold the door open anymore, and closes the freezer.  

Returning to the balcony, he leans over the railing, balances the carton on it and begins scooping out ice cream with a knife.  Much like the city vista below, it’s night black and speckled with glazed bits that reflect the glowing veins of light that run through it.  At least the penthouse’s late owner had good taste in something.

He glances back over his shoulder and blinks through his filters.  No significant signatures other than the already-ransacked saferoom.  He returns his gaze to the view, eats his looted ice cream and waits with his phone still up to his ear.

“Su?” his friend’s expected voice finally whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Am I a bad leader?”

“Of course not, everyone loves you.  They’d follow you anywhere.”

“But should they?”

“Hey, what brought this on?”

“This is twice now that Eris and Ashan have come back in bad shape, and every quest so far we all wind up separated.”

“That’s just a new team going through the growing pains of getting used to working together.  The point is they came back and it’s not been anything they couldn’t recover from, and you’ve been able to help everyone you’ve tried to help.  That sounds like a resounding success to me, especially for the early stages.”

Silence.

Consideration.

Waiting.

“Has this happened before?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“No.  I don’t think I do.  It’s just…”

Sullivan’s grip on his phone tightens.

“Just what?”

“I’ve been thinking about the gaps more than I should lately.”

“And?”  They should barely be able to think about them at all.

“The list of reasons I’d want to leave them empty is pretty short, isn’t it?”

The ice cream carton tumbles down to the streets far enough below to be another world.

“You trust me?”

“For happily ever after.”

How bitter the old joke between them is.

“This isn’t going to be another gap.  I would have tried harder to talk you out of it if I thought there was a chance of that.”

“Thanks.  I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.  Now get some sleep.  You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’ll try not to dream.”

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #tag game #oc songs tag #songs and ships tag #empty names

[bellarkeselection]

There's Another Girl For Him pt 3

Part 1

Part 2

Kayce and Y/n go up the summer camp and feelings become too hard to ignore. Some interesting news also comes along

Yanking the reins of my horse to a stop I grunted seeing that we had made it to the top of the summer camp grounds. Dismounting my horse my boots hit the grass while I watched Kayce get down from his horse too. He had suggested that we come up here to enjoy a friend's weekend just friend's. We had both been busy working but this was a normal weekend like it used to be. Sitting down on one of the blankets he laid down I stared at him seeing that he had been watching me instead of the sunset. "Kayce, why are you looking on me and not focusing on the view. I mean if you want to stare at me we didn't have to come up here." I chuckled watching him removing hat tossing it behind us and I did the same not thinking that we needed them. "Y/n, I...I don't think we can be friends anymore..."

"Wait what - Kayce what is wrong. What have I done. I thought you said we would be friends for life?" Whipping my head I couldn't believe his words. When we five years old we made an agreement to always be in the others life no matter what happens in the others life at the time. So I was terrified that I had messed up really bad even though I couldn't think of a reason how. "Y/n, I messed up when we were young and stupid because I didn't choose you. I am sorry that I got Monica pregnant and didn't see that the girl for me was right in front of me...so now I am going to make it up to you." He reached behind him, revealing a guitar in his lap messing with some cords strumming a tune.

"I'd be spinnin' my wheels goin' nowhere fast. Pocket full of sorrys and an empty glass. All hat and no cattle and some tumbleweed boots. I'd be blowin' in the wind if I didn't have you. I'd be a drunk without a drink to drink. A guitar with a broken string. Without you, I'd be a fallin' star without a midnight sky. A cowboy with no horse to ride." He softly sang moving his fingers on the instrument shifting his gaze up to me every once in awhile smiling softly. "I'd be drivin' in the dark with no headlights on. On a one way highway that didn't go home. I'd have to borrow from the devil just to pay my dues. I'd have nothin' worth havin' if I didn't have you. Be a drunk without a drink to drink. A guitar with a broken string. Without you, I'd be a fallin' star without a midnight sky. I'd be a train runnin' out of tracks. Missin' pages in a paperback. Without you, I'd be the kind of lost that's hard to find. Walkin' through this world a liar. A cowboy with no horse to ride...." He paused deeply staring at me. "I am utterly in love with you. I always have been in love with you Y/n."

He sat the guitar back down behind us crawling up to me where we were almost pressed up against each other. I felt my face turning red where I couldn't resist from blurting it out. "I love you too Kayce...but what about Monica and Tate. You are a married man-" He cuts me off pressing a kiss to my forehead pulling out a document showing me that it was the signed divorce papers. "Monica and I agreed that we weren't really happy together. We were just staying together for Tate. But I am choosing you now and always." He cupped my face in his hands and I climbed into his lap being the one to crash my lips onto his. He moaned taken back before deepening the kiss gently pushing me onto my back. Our hands were over each where we were panting and I almost took his shirt off until he broke the heated kiss. "Easy darling...I want that too. But I feel like I need a ring on your finger first. I love you so so much Y/n L/n." Running my fingers through his messy brown hair I chuckled kissing him once more. "Then we better hurry, Dutton. Because I don't know how long I can wait to be with you...I feel like I have waited long enough." He moaned crashing his lips hungerly on mine.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#kayceduttonxreader #kayce dutton x fem!reader #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #kayce dutton imagine #kayce dutton imagines #yellowstone request #yellowstone masterlist #yellowstone tv series #yellowstone tv show #yellowstone tv #monica long #tate dutton #ask box is open for anything #yellowstone #comments really appreciated

[rainbowdaisy13]

WHEW runnin on 4 hours of sleep so I’m struggling with being eloquent. I’m gonna do a list to help my brain—thoughts as I remember them

*Stage is set up wonderfully—most stadiums you aren’t gonna have a bad seat

*If you have ever been to MN, you know that MN Nice isn’t what it means other places. Most here come from sullen Nordic stock so talking to strangers requires a shitton of alcohol. Nary a bracelet was exchanged around me, no complimenting of others outfits. The vibes were very much 👀 staring at others and being too scared to interact 😆

*Openers are perfect—MAATHP followed by CS really gets the crowd amped

*Her opening speech was interesting—she made a point of saying how she appreciates that we are so accepting of people in MN which felt like her acknowledging Pride

*She is so adorable and sexy live, very multifaceted —her stage presence is unmatched. She owns the entire stadium and she knows it. Was super powerful to witness

*Over the top long winded Het-splained Betty which was 🙄 because I thought she was transitioning away from that in previous shows—also my BFF turned to me and goes “she just said it’s a fictional album but then literally writes a song about a House she actually owns” and I died 😆 I had never thought of that before

*Which leads into the fact that Rebekah’s hair was in a ponytail flip thing—hairpin theory may be a bust

*The stage, lighting, bracelets light coordination, pyrotechnics are all top tier. Just next level—I don’t wanna ruin it because it was a shock and super cool, but I’ll say there was a point when we were blasted with volcano level heat being in the upper bowl and everyone went wild

*I sobbed the entire time through Marjorie which was expected

*Dear John was the only song I sat for—I absolutely freaked out that she said be nice online kids don’t go after anyone—turned to my friends and was like omfg she’s never addressed that before!! I do think she needs to be more forceful and real though in her language choice. It very much gave Kindergarten teacher talking to her class—which as we see, did nothing given the amount of posts I’m seeing of swifties being like nope don’t care. I wish she could’ve been like “hey stop being assholes online!! I don’t like it! It doesn’t help me!!”

*Daylight was a shock to me—very beautiful acoustically

*Her dancers are so talented, love all the diversity—also size inclusion, I love a bigger dancer that can do a fucking 3 hour set—break the stereotypes!!

*Seeing the screen during Anti-Hero live was heavy. I do not get what Swifties think is happening during that song. I didn’t realize it till last night, but they juxtaposed live Taylor singing on the left of the screen next to giant angry Taylor screaming and begging to be seen. It’s a crazy feeling to see that and be like damn I participate in this dichotomy by even being here

*I took a pee break during tolerate it and the line was nonexistent

*Shes so quick at costume changes!!

*Rainbow stage and rainbow bracelet lights for August which makes no sense unless it makes sense. Why wouldn’t it be a beach seen/waves?

*I don’t get how she sounds so good second night and doesn’t lose her voice. Doesn’t make sense to me—she must not talk day of the concert at all

*Shit I can’t remember which song it was for, but the screen visuals are naked Taylor in a bed. We get a brief glimpse of her holding someone’s hand, and the hand is of a Black person. This is significant IMO for 2 reasons—we are seeing continuity that she’s using anyone *but* a CIS white man as her love interest over and over and over again. Why?? If she’s only ever officially dated CIS white men?? Make it make sense. Also using a Black man as the Love interest in Lover and then having a Black male dancer do the Karlie grab hands stare at each other walk during Style seems like she’s trying to get across this is about the same person IMO

*The show is planned so well that it never fully loses momentum. And the 3 hours goes by way faster than I thought it was going to

*If you go to a show please stay and cheer for her band, dancers, etc. So many people left while she was asking for us to acknowledge them which is rude AF. She’s always known and acknowledged she couldn’t do these shows without 100s of mostly unseen talented people

Overall, I feel very fortunate I got to see her perform Eras. It is a once in a lifetime show. I don’t know what’s next for her, but it feels like she’s stepping away from this version of herself and evolving. I can’t wait to see what’s next 🫶🏼

[braindancer]

WIP Wednesday

Is 2024 gonna be the year I actually do these consistently? Probably not Who knows!

In the process of making a reference sheet for my sentient AI OC, Adam (aka Glitch)! I'm super new to drawing robots so it's real rough but I've been having a blast.

Also an excerpt from a self-indulgent origin fic I prob won't actually post anywhere:

"We runnin' a fucking lost and found now?" She could hear Johnny's grumbling over the wind that roared in her ears. When she glanced down, Flytrap hoped she'd see his spectral arms wrapped around her waist, but she was alone. Beneath the gleaming frame of her Arch, the dusty desert highway sped passed. "What's the problem, Princess?" She asked him out loud. "Clock's ticking. We don't have time to go chasing after Del's lost toys right now." "Could use the cash." "You'll be dead before you can spend it if you keep fuckin' around."

Obvs no pressure, but tagging: @henbased @adelaidedrubman @memaidraws @streetkid-named-desire @wraithsoutlaws @quickhacked and anyone who feels like posting a WIP! Tag me so I can see

#wip wednesday #(also if you'd rather i didnt tag you in stuff ABSOLUTELY lmk) #(or if you do want me tagging you! we dont even have to be moots) #oc: adam nile #oc: flytrap

[deputy-buck]

If you would please please pls pls pls Stafford/Christenson. They are blorbo's from my show! NSFW or sfw, during OIF.

They're so babygirl coded it's not even funny, I love them so much-

-

"Gracious"

"I was like, good gracious, check out my tracers,

so dangerous, trying to show patience,

lookin for the right time to shoot my steez,

catch em runnin, hit the back of their knees,

I'll leave em, please believe me Oh! me and the rest of my heathens,

pop up a... yo man, how'd that line go?"

Curled up in his ranger grave, John groaned as quietly as he could while curling in a little tighter on himself, head cushioned on his arm, only a couple moments away from precious sleep. He knows Q-tip is staring at him over the lip of his grave expecting an answer, but he's too fucking tired. Gunny would be pissed if he knew I was still awake, Christeson thought to himself.

"Yo, Johnny, the fuck's wrong with you? I know yo ass ain't asleep." Evan pesters on, still wide awake from the enemy encounter earlier, he seems more excited about Cristenson's first kills than the kid himself. 

"How the fuck would you know if I'm asleep or not?" John shoots back, finally cracking an eye open to squint at Evan. God, he's pretty without that fucking durag on. John opens both eyes to get a better look in the dim desert night, soaking up the rare occasion to stare at the man he's slowly falling in love with on this hellish campaign.

"We been sleepin' next to each other for two months, you think I don't know how you sleep, man? Cause it sure as fuck ain't on your side, back sleepin' mothufucka." Stafford huffs, flopping over the edge of John’s grave and squeezes his too-skinny body between John’s equally too-skinny body and the clay-dirt wall. John often mentally compares Stafford to a ferret, lanky and will try to fit in the smallest places possible… he’s also a bit of a klepto. Evan is quick to wind his arms around John’s torso before the younger man can protest.

Stafford tugs at John’s flak vest to move him to his back, knowing John will be much more comfortable and settles in for the few gracious hours of sleep before it's their turn on watch again. Minutes pass before either man says another word, the only sounds are each other’s breathing and distant artillery blasts. The 1st Recon’s unofficial lullaby.

“Would it be gay to ask for a goodnight kiss?” John whispers, turning his head to face his partner. There’s a look in his eye that Stafford can’t tell if it’s innocent or not, though he feels that if he has to think about it, it’s probably not.

“Nah, man, it’s only gay if you’re not a Marine.” 

-

Thanks for the ask, Caffe!!💚

(WC: 369) (lol)

#evan stafford #john christeson #generation kill #buck builds #ask game