#whatever the fuck their ship name is this week

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Chapter 6- just like your father

Series masterlist

Warnings- once again not too much rafe): I’m trying to get more rafe in the next parts, the readers drunk the whole time basically lol

“Now a live update from the sheriffs department.”

“Yeah, after six weeks, the five teens that had been missing from Kildare county have returned, been reunited with their families.” Rafe went closer to the tv, sitting down and staring out. “We’re still waiting for details about their journey. But I’m sure they have quite a tale to tell.”

“We also got word that the father of one of the teens, John B Routledge, who’s been presumed dead for a year now, has also returned live and well. Wonders never cease. Right now, we’re just trying to get those kids settled back into school, with their families. They’ve been through a lot.”

“The teens were down in Kildare island with two other Kildare teens, Sarah Cameron and Y/N Maybank.” The sheriff spoke.

Rafes eyes widened at the mention of you and his sister.

“Sarah’s the daughter of disgraced real estate magnate, Ward Cameron, who confessed to the murder of Peterkin two months ago. y/n is the daughter of Luke Maybank, who is also presumed missing after escaping prison.”

Rafe watched as both of your pictures were put on screen, he recognized yours to be one of you you posted to your instagram, you at the beach. He was in the background, he noticed upon looking closer. Then, a picture of your brother, you and your dad.

You looked at the tv screen, scoffing at the picture they put up when they said your dad’s name. A picture of you, JJ and your dad. It was JJ’s first day of school, you remember that day as if it was your own first day of school.

You gripped the can harder, heavily sighing and leaning back in the chair. Yeah, you’d need more than one drink today.

“When I was there, Rafe was talking about how the cross was his. Not- not Ward’s.” You told them all, hiccuping after and covering your mouth.

“Are you- are you seriously drunk right now?” Pope asked, all of them noticing the way you slurred your words.

“Fuck off. I’m an adult. Can do whatever I want.” You said with a childish giggle.

“It’s like 10 am in the morning.”

“Yo!” Kiara sapped her fingers. “Can we please get back on the topic?”

“Right. And he’s coming into Wilmington tonight at eight. It’s being shipped by train from like… R.. Ra… Raleigh I think? I dunno.”

“You get any other information?” Pope asked.

“Uh, y/n got the cargo number.” Kiara spoke, picking up the paper.

“Okay, well, that’s a start.”

“I mean, they’re definitely fencing that shit off as we speak. So we should probably get a move on.” JJ said, watching you down the rest of the can, and grab a 4th one next to you from your spot on the floor.

“Sarah, you hear from John B?”

“No, I mean, he’s probably off somewhere with his dad. But the problem is they have the Twinkie.”

“Our transportation.”

“I have a car, you know? It’s a hunk of shit, but it works.” You shrugged.

All of them raised their eyebrows at that. “It’s back at Ricky’s. I should probably go talk to him anyways.”

They all were hesitant, you could tell.

“I’m- I’m your only fuckin’ option, so, my car or nothing.”

“She’s right.” JJ told them, already hopping on his bike.

“Ricky?” You shouted when you opened the door. He wasn’t home, you sighed, taking the keys off the counter and stumbling back outside.

“He not home?” JJ asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Nope.” You told him, locking the door. You go into the car, trying to get it started. But it never turns on, you groan in annoyance, fumbling with the keys, and trying again.

“Goddamnit!” You laughed, slamming your fist onto the dashboard and going out.

“It’s… not working.”

“Not working? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know! It’s not fucking starting.” You shrugged.

JJ threw his hands up in defeat.

“Alright. That’s okay. We can.. try my dads.” Pope said.

“And I’ll try to see if my parents will.” Kiara spoke.

You ended up going with JJ and Kiara to her parents.

“Jesus, Cleo was not wrong. It does look like the White House.” You mumbled when you entered. You drunkenly stumbled up the steps, JJ rolling his eyes and eventually just helping you up once you almost fell.

“We just found out it’s… it’s gonna be in Wilmington tonight.”

“Okay, and the cross is Popes family-“

“Popes family heirloom.” Kiara finished.

“Shit, this house is nice. Think we could just…?” You told JJ, grabbing an expensive bracelet sitting on the counter and pocketing it.

An idea popped into his head when you did that. If they don’t wanna give them the keys, he can take them.

“He’s alive!” Kiara argued. “JJ.” She turned, the cutlery clanking as he put it away guiltily, getting caught messing with it.

“Do rich people really need to use like… fancy everything? Like fancy plates? Is that necessary?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself as you took another sip.

“A little help?”

He put his hand up, counting off his fingers.

“Wards alive in the Carribean. He’s living off the loot he stole from us, and, uh, yeah, he’s flying across to Wilmington.”

“I was-“ you covered your mouth when you hiccuped again. “With them during the whole thingie. Basically I fell into the water…” you imitated water splashing with your hands.

“And it was like ‘ahhh! Now I’m stuck with my ex boyfriend who’s also crazy on an island, ahh!’ And then we went to some vacation home he has, and I saw Ward and he was like ‘sup, y/n. I’m alive.’ And that’s what happened.” You nodded to yourself, all of them staring at you dumbfounded.

“Give me a break, man.” Kiara’s dad spoke.

“Yeah, you’re right. What do I know? Just saw it with my own two eyes.” You shrugged, rolling your eyes and taking another sip from the bottle. “So did Kiara and JJ but, whatever.”

“I’m skeptical, okay? I am skeptical, y/n as in I think it’s all bullshit. And I think you’ve been led astray, Kiara. And you, JJ, Y/N- let’s get this out in the open.”

“Just take it down a bit-“ her mom tried.

“No. Let me tell you something, you need to understand that I do get it.”

“Sure you do.” You and JJ said in unison, you both laughing at that.

“Do you hear me?”

“Sure. Sure.”

“I like you, guys, and I bet you’re fricking fun to hang with, and to ditch school with, go down to the break, and.. drink beer,” he directed that last sentence to you, eyeing the can in your hand.

“because I was once just like you both. I didn’t think that anything mattered, thought I could make up any bullshit story and these stupid kooks would believe it. But then I learned about hard work.”

“Yeah, well, hard work doesn’t get you shit if you’re like us. I mean- shit, compared to me, you have no clue what hard work is like.” You spat, pointing to yourself. He was getting to close to JJ for your comfort.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And about what really mattered. All I care about, all that I care about is my daughter. That’s it. And all I know is that she was a lot better off before she met you and your friends.” He said, this sentence directed to JJ.

“Dad, I was never better off!” Kiara argued, you looked at JJ, shaking your head when you saw his reaction. You were gonna kill this guy.

“I was miserable.”

“Miserable? No, no. No!” He shouted, turning to you and JJ.

“No, these pogues have ruined my daughter’s life.” He shouted in your face, you stood in front of JJ, trying your best to protect him.

“Didn’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Carrera.” You told him, turning to usher JJ out.

“Y’all have a good day.” JJ spoke, both of you heading to the door.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?” Kiara asked.

“Protecting my daughter.”

“Can we please-“

“Wait a second. Everybody says it, they are liars and thief’s!” Her dad shouted.

You and JJ stopped in your tracks.

“They’re just like their father! I mean, one of them is already drunk off their ass!”

The two words neither of you wanted to hear.

You looked at JJ, who held back tears at the words. You held your own back, throwing the rest of the can, looking at it pour onto the hardwood floor.

You grabbed the keys from the tray, you looked around again, shrugging before grabbing a jacket on the coat hanger, as well as some shoes.

“Wanna talk shit, you’re gonna get bit, right?” You mumbled to yourself, shrugging and following JJ down the steps.

“Is she.. talking with Topper?” Pope asked, all of them turning to you and Topper at the bar.

“He didn’t want me to say anything, but he’s a fucking mess.” Topper said with a laugh, you laughed with him.

“Yeah, well, he was an asshole. So…” you said, taking the shot you ordered.

“Believe me, I know.” He told you,

“Hey, Jayj.”

“What?”

“I bet you Topper has a way to transport the cross.” Pope spoke.

“Actually, Popes right. He does have a rig.”

“No.” Sarah argued.

“Yes.”

“Yes, come on.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“What are we talking about?” You asked them, coming up behind them suddenly.

“Sarah, you already got him whipped anyway, right? So why don’t you just take one for the team?”

“What would John B say?” She said.

“I think John B will completely understand. Think about the circumstances, it’s about treasure.”

“We can handle John B. Just talk to him.”

“Why do I feel like I’m gonna regret this?” Topper spoke, all of you happy when you saw her hug him.

You ended up falling asleep on the boat. Your eyes shut as they all came up with plans.

You can’t even escape him in your dreams. Because when you fell asleep, a fond memory of the two of you popped up in your mind.

“Shit, slow down.” He laughed, grabbing onto your hand as you ran down, pushing past people and making your way down straight to the floor.

“Can’t believe I let you drag me into this shit.” He said with a laugh when the band came on stage and cheers erupted.

He watched you while you paid close attention to the band. And when your guys song came on, he was told to sing with you, he hesitated but eventually did.

“Got the music in you, baby. Tell me why. You've been locked in here forever. And you just can't say goodbye. Your lips, my lips. Apocalypse.”

You both sung to each other, you staring at him with the most love and adoration he’s ever seen, and him staring at you with the most love anyone’s ever seen him have.

You both leaned in, but before your lips connected…

You woke up, quickly sitting up and groaning, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Jesus. Think I drunk too much earlier. I’m going crazy.” You told them, all of them turning to look at you now.

Taglist

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

#rafe cameron x you #rafe fluff #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x reader #jj obx #rafe obx #obx series #obx x reader #obx fanfiction

[haroldhighballjordan]

*Nightwing is publicly announced as the new Leader of the Justice League*

Deathstroke, barging into the Hall of Doom: *shoves Lex out of his seat at the head of the table* “Wow, I’d like to thank you all so much for this promotion.”

#i literally have not caught up on comics at all lately but I heard Dick is a the new face of the Justice League and this is all i thought #about #if this didn’t happen in canon? theyre idiots #Nightwing #deathstroke #Dick grayson #Slade Wilson #dickstroke #sladick #sladin #whatever the fuck their ship name is this week

[solradguy]

Drew Sol twice today... It's like Soltober came a little early this year...

#textpost #I punched the shit out of a dragon until death in D&D this evening #Playing a Dhampir monk named Konstantyn and he just ATATATATATATATATATATA-WATAAAAA!! #His punches heal him too lol He just tanks the damage and then goes in and punches until the thing is dead and sucks out their soul essence #I need to draw him more... Only drew him once for his token... He's got fucked up chunky teeth because- #-his flavor of vampire eats bones/raw meat and not blood. They're like hyena teeth kinda #Finger bones are his favorite but that hasn't really come up yet lol #He was converted into whatever his vampire species is called when he was like 5 so he doesn't remember being human really #and the vampire colony lived in a spaceship that attacked smaller transport vessels for food/etc #Konstantyn started showing empathy towards humans and the vampires got mad about it and #locked him in a rotting meat closet for like a week as punishment. Surrounded by food that only made him sick... #Then the next time they let him join in attacking a vessel he made a run for one of the escape pods #The ships were in the middle of nowhere and the escape pod ran out of oxygen but he doesn't have to breath so that doesn't matter much #The pressurization and temperature dropping almost killed him though #He's only lived among humans for a short time (~5 years?) and is still sort of figuring things out #Since he's only half-vampire he doesn't *need* to eat bones/meat and that helps him blend in better #But he's still kinda weird haha

[neonganymede]

I'd forgotten how fucking nice it is to be able to type without leaving behind an inconsistent array of ugly typos ;w;

#no more scrutinizing everything i write #no more spending double the time to edit something i should've been done with weeks ago #my motivation to write has returned. i feel like i can breathe again #idk if i'll be able to get everything done for sigma ship week but i'm gonna fucking try <3 #i'll have to give my new laptop a nice name #but since i usually name my electronics after whatever character i'm fixating on this baby will probably be called nikolai....

[gazelessmenagerie]

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

Obsidian hues are tempted to open at the sensation of familiar silken sheets shifting around dark skin. Warmth surrounds him as the sound of rainfall can be heard from beyond an ornate sliding door. Heavy drops of moisture fall upon wood, stone, and tile; each making its own distinct sound upon contact. The scent of this weather had yet to penetrate the palace walls sheltering Broly from the oncoming storm. Around him, the subtle sweetness of carefully crafted oils and extracts perfumed the space with a familiar regal scent. The sheets too carried their own sweet scent that the Saiyan would know fully at this point..

If those eyes were not tempted to open by now, surely a pair of delicate hands suddenly sliding along the inside of his thighs would. Prying them gently apart as the weight of a petite figure could be felt moving upwards along Broly's muscular legs. Snowy skin, a body of softness and warmth that stood apart from his own made itself known; slender arms straightening to lift up the body only slightly... only enough so that hues of a familiar glowing violet and indigo could make contact with the darker orbs opposing her own..

"Foolish Oaf... I will not tolerate disloyalty. Perhaps I should remind you why you are mine, and mine alone to claim."

Pale pink lips moved upwards to claim Broly as her own.. dragging her form upwards to allow her hips to straddle the others. Slipping a stiffening shaft between her legs, he could feel warm silk covering the entrance of the woman who would lay claim to him this night. Pressing herself against his sensitive organ, as the male would take in a gasp of air, Ei would strike and take those parted lips with a deep kiss. Suckling on the tongue that instinctively met her own, the archon ground her hips into the member she held captive between her sacred space.

Soft moans would make themselves known soon enough as this went on. Ei was growing wet, but her desires remained in control as she could feel the urgency building within the one she kept beneath her. The head of his cock seemed to be desperate to find relief at this rate as the scent of lust and desire began to cloud the space they shared. Smaller hands dared to strike as well, finding themselves grabbing those large pectorals Broly seemed to be ever so proud of. Squeezing them in rhythm to her grinding motions, smirking into her captive's lips as her fingers moved to grip and tease at his nipples. Gently at first, but they began to turn into more deliberate twists.

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

It was then that the archon of thunder decided to allow the other a breath. Pulling her lips away fully to gaze up savor the image of a flustered desperate oaf... a smirk painting itself across her lips as she squeezed her pelvic muscles tightly around his thick hard shaft to draw out the sight. A regal chuckle teased the shell of Broly's ear as Ei leaned down to whisper..

"That's right. Good boy... how does this feel?"

This sense of torture would only go on for a few minutes more, even if it felt like an eternity. The archon was biding her time, relishing in the desperation of her beloved oaf as he grew needier between her thighs; dripping with her own slick fluids of desire. Easily soaking through her garments and spreading across her exposed skin. Coating the massive cock with it's warmth and slickness that could easily allow Broly to thrust fully into the venus that continued to agonize him in this moment. The scent of wanton passion grew thicker and almost unbearable for both of them. The woman slipped herself upwards again, one hand moving away from teasing a pectoral to rub between her lips to paint her finger with her nectar. Pulling her finger away from between her pelvis revealed a glistening coat of sweet slick fluid.. which she dared to tease along the brute's lips before slipping it just past them and onto a parched tongue.

"Tell me Broly.. what do you want me to do to you?"

Anonymously send my muse a wet dream. Make them feel horny or fluster when they’re awake.

Without so much as even cracking a single eye open, he lazily knew where he was by scent, noise and touch alone. Luxurious, cool silk swathed and slithered around him, warmth held only by his body as it lay in that perfect sensation of comforting heat and the slight chill available any time should he move any part of his body over unclaimed territory. An arm blindly reached, sliding along the waves of bunched fabric as the cool silk brushed flat beneath his searching palm.. only to find nothing in the space beside him. 

Disgruntlement sighed as fingers lightly curled into the fabric, idly listening to the slight differences of the gentle deluge beyond walls he knew well enough. Petrichor surrounded him much like the sheets, offering their soothing attributes weaving perfectly within the collaboration of finely crafted scents and extracts. He could imagine the exact container from each individual scent, picking them apart one by one as he did not wish to rise yet. Exhaling a breath, his face burrowed into the soft, plush bed below.. inhaling deeply of that attractive scent.. imagining the body it belonged to...

Almost as if on cue for his desires to manifest, the foreign touch of hands brushed along the inside of muscled thighs. Short, brown fur puffed slightly in surprise, quickly smoothing down as his legs were coaxed apart for familiar weight to drape over and lay claim as it ascended over his robust figure. Without so much as a single thought stalling him, a low purr took residence within his vocals.. lazily letting his eyes take in the visage presented to him. The darkness of the void held within obsidian optics clashed into the ignition of those violet hues matching the element they presided with. A flash of lightning striking into the blackened abyss, powerful and relentless. However, before a single word could be uttered by him; the jabbing accusation following like Thunder silenced him.

‘ .. Disloyalty..? ’ 

Bewilderment painted across his features, plain and questioning as to what was being referred to... although he wasn’t exactly displeased to hear the second portion of such possessiveness over him. The strings of his heart thrummed for an instant, the matter at hand taking priority to inquire what the Archon meant but as before; the Brute was silenced once more with lips taking dominion over his own briefly. Relentless as the swift motions of that polearm she wielded, not a single inch of recovery was allowed as her deceptively powerful body took ground with straddling over sturdy hips. A breath stagged from nostrils, unable to deny the arousal derived from the intensity of word and eye holding him down like caught prey. Only a thin barrier was all that stood between them, taunting him as that beguiling God of Thunder purposefully pressed her pelvis against his stiffening shaft and forced out a gasp.  True to her nature, she spared no mercy to strike like the element she ruled over to overtake him once more in abject control as her victim fumbled helplessly. What had came over Ei was a question left unanswered, the only noise capable of leaving was the stifled groan wrenched from him with every purposeful motion of friction rubbing the underside of his hardened shaft.

Ferocious and merciless, the Saiyan was caught entirely off guard and paid dearly with the desperation welling at the pit of his lower belly. Hands planted themselves over those enticing thighs as anchors, fingers forming divots with the pressure of their grip. Staggered breaths became fervent and heavy with need, the flushed head of a caught cock throbbed and beaded with droplets of clear fluid dribbling from its opening. Broly’s head swam in a thick miasma of undiluted arousal, lungs drinking heavily of the brewing tempest of pheromones and lust stemming off both of their warring bodies. Every defense attempted fell short in the face of Ei’s precise offense as her hands latched onto the glaringly open vulnerability of a quivering chest. Muffled growls rumbled within the conch of this throat, unable to stop himself from arching his back as those hands squeezed at his pectorals in perfect synchronization of strategic hips grinding against him. It was all Broly could do to hold onto with a vicious grip causing every knuckle to glare bone white, heated breaths panting and billowing from flared nostrils. The assault wasn’t done, not yet as decisive finger tips took their targets between the pads of pinched fingers and began another torment with rolling the buds gently. New sensations battered against the Brute as nerves fired off in endless explosions, pleasure swallowing him as the twists forced out lingering moans and his body disobeyed to thrust his pelvis upwards.

Just as his lungs were crying out for air, those lips relented and allowed him to gulp and heave, engulfed entirely in a heated, pliable mess beneath Ei’s hands. He was almost grateful the canopy of raven hair hovering over his eyes provided some shelter, unable to even look that woman in the eye after the state she left him in as his cheeks ran flushed and strands of saliva stuck at his lower lip. Even then, the respite given lasted only as long as that conniving God of Thunder allowed.. effortlessly wringing out an abrupt moan from behind the stubbornness of pointed canines a the squeeze of her thighs. Eyes squeezed shut, spine arched without a second thought as his body ran hot with mind numbing desire to be allowed release. His cock wept and throbbed, craving nothing else than to bury itself into that slick mound still relentlessly tormenting him with every calculated motion and pause.

Every sense was all but frayed and tattered, pushed well beyond their threshold in such a short amount of time as the battle had already been lost the moment it began. The rich tenures of that chuckle brought the proud male to shiver haplessly, unable to speak a single word in the confusion that was the language of this world but he could still understand every enunciation of what was spoken directly into his ear. His tail lay as a disheveled mess with how it writhed and whipped, coiled and slammed at air and bed alike in the heated madness of it all. Little more than a choked whine slid out, cock noticeably twitching from the praise administered as it leaked more precum, adding onto the small puddle sticking below a navel.

No matter how hard his mind tried to grasp the faintest word, his tongue couldn’t articulate it to be heard beyond the gateway of enamel. Mind unraveled every which way, every second felt as though it were eons as his aching cock craved the salvation of the venus above. He couldn’t stop from squirming, rutting himself for that sought after friction yet the iron clad gaze by those glowing lilacs kept him in place from taking what he needed so desperately. Stifled whines choked within a proud throat, the air driving him mad with its saturation and the hot slickness coating down the entirety of his twitching length broke down any remaining barriers of pride.

In the span of minutes that felt as though they expanded far longer, Broly had been defeated utterly and entirely.

Glazed eyes hid behind their curtains, lips parted for lungs to breathe in heated pants as he waited in agony to be allowed reward. Hear those two words again after pleasing that wonderfully savage Archon’s will with whatever she desired of him. He didn’t even notice when a hand sneaked away from its place over his nipple, seconds spent in that torment multiplied until a coated finger teased along his lips. On cue, his mouth salivated with a keen nose inhaling the potent scent of that sweet nectar. Not a single noise objected as the digit invaded past his lips, slathering the essence directly onto a ravenous tongue. Foreign words belonging solely to this planet failed to form themselves, forgotten as indecipherable shards to be uttered and with nothing else to fall back on, the only language he could articulate was his own native tongue. A single utterance of what might’ve been be construed a word to ears belonging to a non-Saiyan spoke with a distinct growl and accented tenure, lost to translation as the Brute couldn’t begin to remember his own name.

Lips thoughtlessly sealed themselves around the finger afterwards in complete subjugation, suckling dutifully on the finger as though he had been starved for weeks on end, tongue lapping ceaselessly to taste every single drop of that intoxication ambrosia.

#fruitanddarkness #|| Tag: Answered #|| Tag: Gazing over the Abyss of Stars { Broly } #|| Suggestive #|| Ship | Ei / Broly { Call my Name | I’m Yours to Tame | In the Middle of the Night } #( lamflsg jfc. that has been on my mind for so many weeks and now I finally got to it. ) #( just AFLSJGGJ ) #( how to get him to bottom. fucking dominate tf outta him and dont give him any ground to recover and fight back. ) #( **catch him by surprise in the first place. asdfljg forgot to write that but yeah ) #( assault his senses and just yeah. whatever the fuck happened with that entire thing. ) #( i fucking cannot. he's gone. he's defeated. bastard ain't getting back up any time soon. ) #( leaving it there bc there may be a part two and I am so damn ready when it happens. just.. lets say he's gonna wake in a mess. fucking thx #((keep fucking destroying him))

[ghosts-cyphera]

pornstar!ghost defo gets millions of views because of the way he makes his favourite costar cum on his cock🥴 i don't make the rules🤷🏻‍♀️

"oh, bloody hell."

ghost blew out a breath, his thumb moving to run across his lips. for the past hour his phone had been buzzing so loud in the metallic locker of the gym dressing-room that the front-desk assistant had eventually been forced to come ask him to turn it off.

yet not for a moment had he prepared for—for this.

whatever the fuck it was.

his social media was flooded. twitter, instagram, even his goddamn fucking tiktok account that his coworkers had forced him to create during a drunken night out a couple of weeks ago.

and it was all because of you.

well, because of the most recent video the two of you had shot together.

apparently it was—ghost's brows furrowed, as he read through the comments flooding his posts—relationship goals. apparently it was all that a girl could ever want. apparently the two of you were now... being shipped.

his fingers working fast, he looked up your name from his contacts and brought his phone to his ear. not two rings later you answered the call, a touch of amusement to your voice.

"you've seen it, haven't you?"

he could hear the laughter in your voice—the warmth of it making him feel more grounded as he shook his head. "fuckin' A, love. not sure I should be shitting my pants or feel fuckin' flattered. they're saying that we'll be—shipped."

"that we'll—" your laugh was bright. "oh, they're shipping us now, are they? no it's—they want us to be—together."

together?

"they've already seen me railing the shit out of you in front of—," ghost's words died down on his lips.

oh.

oh.

"well I'll be fuckin' damned." the widest of grins tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded his head, slow. "all because of the way I fuck you, eh?"

"something about the way you look at me when you do." he could hear the smile on your lips as you spoke. "price is reworking next week's schedules to see if he can fit more of us in."

"weren't we already scheduled for—," ghost bit down the rest of his sentence.

"thursday, yeah. but apparently his golden couple takes priority. he's—oh, hold up."

the line fell quiet for a moment, and ghost allowed himself to wet his lips with the deepest chuckle. if he hadn't know himself any better, he would've thought that the sudden heat playing on his cheeks was brought there by you, and not by the workout he had just finished.

it was definitely from the workout.

"ghost?"

your warm call only brightened his smile, and he nodded his head. "yeah, darlin'?"

"I'll see you next week on—," you laughed, "four days."

four fuckin' days.

"alright," he managed out a chuckle. "yeah, alright. I'll—err—I'll see you then, yeah? tell price I said—" thank you. "tell him I said hi."

"I will," you hummed. "ghost?"

"yeah, love?"

"I'm looking forward to next week."

fuckin' hell.

he bit down his smile, for nothing. for there was nothing he could do to control the sudden flutter at the pit of his stomach: to hide the warmth of his voice as he nodded his head.

"me too, darlin'. me too.”

a/n: this is not even smut anymore. this is just—it's just fluff. I'm falling for them so goddamn hard, lmao. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / my inbox is so, so open for all your thoughts about him. 💌

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you

[airprime7]

Why am I seeing so many fake posts on my dash? Like, there's ones from all sorts of made up realities, I'm surprised I haven't seen ones set in webcomics or whatever.

0 notes

♊️ twinarmageddons reblogged

♊️ twinarmageddons

all of you iidiiot2 need two 2hut up about computer2 unle22 you know what you're talkiing about. ii 2wear ii 2aw 2ome guy telliing people two pour water on theiir keyboard2 two clean them.

♉️ adiostoreador

uH,,,

iS THAT NOT HOW YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO, uH, dO IT,

♊️ twinarmageddons

oh my fuckiing god 2ome people are actual iidiiot2

#ii mean come on you actually beliieved that

22 notes

♑️ terminallycapricious

wAsSuP mOtHeRfUcKeRs???

#HoNk

420 notes

♌️ arseniccatnip reblogged

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < hiii!!!

:33 < my name is nepeta leijon, and this is my furst post!

:33 < i like shipping, and rolepurrlaying, and hunting

:33 < i have troll pawtism, so i might not be the best at understanding things. sorry if i get confused!

:33 < i also do art, and my commissions are open! purrlease don't ask me to draw trolls pailing, i'm only 6

:33 < bye! :33

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOW STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO PUT YOUR FULL NAME IN YOUR PINNED POST.

DON'T YOU KNOW THE FIRST RULE OF GRUMBLR IS NEVER USE YOUR REAL NAME, YOU IDIOTIC EXCUSE FOR A PERSON.

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

wwhy is your text grey

♋️ carcinogeneticist

I DON'T KNOW, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE, FISH FACE.

🤡 i-say-honk Follow

hOnK!

♋️ carcinogeneticist

FUCK OFF, TC, WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU.

THIS STUPID "GIMMICK BLOG" ISN'T EVEN FUNNY.

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < @carcinogeneticist @caligulasaquarium @i-say-honk kill yourselves

#:33 < :33

333 notes

♍️ grimauxiliatrix reblogged

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

im dead n0w

♍️ grimauxiliatrix

Mood

#Honestly I Cant Believe I Made It Through This Week Alone

60 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

👻 ectobiologist Follow

hi! how do i use this app?

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HUMAN ALERT.

@human-alarm

👤 human-alarm Follow

BEEP

612 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

♐️ centaurstesticle Follow

D -> The day we stop valuing horses is the day society collapses

♐️ centaurstesticle

D -> @cuttlefishculler Perhaps I do share some interests with the protagonist of the new popular movie starring Troll Ryan Gosling

D -> If anything that would be a compliment

D -> Not that that's something a f001 such as yourself would understand

♓️ cuttlefishculler Follow

)(-EY, I was just joking around. No need to start being c-rude!!! 380

♏️ arachnidsgrip Follow

Protagonist!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

What movie did you watch? 8ecause 8ar8ie is defin8ly the hero of the one I saw, hooves-for-8rains.

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

i liked the 0ne with the b0mb m0re

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

rustblood, opinion disregarded

♋️ carcinogeneticist

BLATANT HEMOPHOBIA ASSIDE, ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE OP'S URL?

♊️ twinarmageddons

forget that, cc ii2 the ACTUAL HEIIRE22

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOLY SHIT, WHO CARES.

1380 notes

♏️ arachnidsgrip reblogged

♏️ arachnidsgrip

You know, I think the murders were good for me.

♎️ gallowscalibrator Follow

VR1SK4, YOU K1LL3D 31GHTY-31GHT P3OPL3.

♏️ arachnidsgrip

Yeah, 8ut I'm over it now. It doesn't effect me anymore.

#I've moved on.

413 notes

♉️ adiostoreador reblogged

💽 turntechgodhead Follow

man i cant believe troll steve jobs died of ligma

♉️ adiostoreador

wHO, uM, wHO'S TROLL STEVE JOBS?

#homestuck #unreality #fake posts #sollux captor #tavros nitram #gamzee makara #nepeta leijon #karkat vantas #eridan ampora #aradia medigo #kanaya maryam #john egbert #equius zahhak #feferi peixes #vriska serket #terezi pyrope #dave strider #grumblr

[poeticpascal]

I've Got You (Dbf!Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a date set up by your father goes wrong, your secret boyfriend and Dad's best friend races to protect you.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, attempted sexual assault, abusive language, reader's date is a tory prick, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, unprotected sex, use of pet names.

A/n: So... this is my first time writing smut. I am super proud of this one, so please let me know what you think! Requests are open so for more Joel/Pedro action, you know where to find me x

Dating your Dad’s best friend is hard. And stupid. Really, you have no clue why either of you thought this'd be a good idea. But you were so far down this path now, so entangled in late night meet-ups and whispered phone calls and unspoken thoughts that sounded a lot like ‘I love you’, that it was too late to turn around and steer the sinking ship of this utter mess back to shore.

More than anything, you hate not having any normalcy with him. You can’t fall straight into his arms after a hard day. You can’t cuddle into his side with a bowl of popcorn watching crappy weeknight telly. You can’t go to the store together, holding hands and making him laugh as you insist on buying a flavour of ice cream that you know he’d love. And it sucks.

Because everyone said Joel would never be one to settle down. He’s too wild, too rough to fit into a polished little box like that. And you’d thought the same. Until you fucked him, then fucked him again, and kept going back until you could see the pain in his eyes each time you left. You could practically feel the heaviness settle in his stomach as you left his bed to sneak back home. It hurts him as much as it does you, and if you weren’t so incredibly in love with him, that would’ve been enough to make you run.

Despite how long you’d kept this going now, a good 6 months at least, it never got any easier. Especially when your Dad started talking about dating. He was protective, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. So when you suddenly became distant, hiding in your room more often and going out on dates much less, he was concerned. Nowhere near as concerned as he’d be if he found out why you were acting that way, you thought, but concerned all the same.

So when he came home one day, beaming and shouting for you to come downstairs, you thought nothing of it. When he explained there was a new apprentice at his work that he thinks you’d like, you weren’t surprised. And when he told you he’d set up a blind date with said boy, you felt sick.

Because you really couldn’t get out of it. You tried.

“Dad, I just don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh come on, you used to have a new date every few weeks. I’m just worried about you. Matthew's really nice, and he likes the same shitty music you do-”

“It’s good music.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just…” he paused, his worry painted on his face, and there's no way you could’ve said no to him. “Honey, I want you to be happy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently” - your best friend, you thought - “but I just need to know you’re okay. So give this a go, for me, alright? And if you have an awful time, that’s it, I’ll never set you up again.”

You sighed. He was right; it’s just one night, one date. One box you have to tick to relieve the pressure that comes from having an affair with your next door neighbour, the one more than twice your age, the one your Dad would call a brother. And besides, your Dad would be working an overnight job, so you’d be spending the night at Joel’s anyway. Something to look forward to.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll go. For you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, tight, and you hugged him right back because you really do hate having to keep this from him. He pulled away, smiling - “great! It’s tonight at 7. He’ll pick you up.”

“You already arranged it?!” You near enough shrieked, but he’d already sauntered off to the kitchen, giggling as he went. 

Typical.

So that’s how you ended up here, at 6:55pm, waiting by the front door for Marcus - or Michael, or something like that - to pick you up. Your phone buzzes, Joel’s name flashing on the screen, that alone making you feel that much calmer.

You’d text him as soon as you talked to your Dad, letting him know about the date. He understood, and you loved that about him; he was mature, compassionate, and he was more than secure in the fact that no matter who you talked to, who flirted with you on nights out, who you were set up with… you’d always come back to him. 

Don’t worry about tonight, baby. It’ll go quickly. I’ll leave the door unlocked for when you get back. Text me if you need picking up. J x

You smile at his initial at the end - it’s such a Dad thing to do, but it makes you happy, especially when he adds a little kiss. He only does that for you.

The sudden sound of a car door closing snaps you out of your thoughts, Joel’s text left on read as what you assume to be your date heads up the driveway. You take a deep, nervous breath, smoothing out your dress and heading to the door just in time for his knock.

You open the door, take a good look at your date, and he’s… okay. Not unattractive, per se. Though you’d come to accept a little while ago that being with Joel had soured your perception of pretty much every other guy. His dusty blonde hair is slicked back with gel, his teeth are way too white, and he’s dripped in designer clothing that just screams, “I have a trust fund.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Matthew.” Right. Matthew. “You must be (Y/N).” He leans in to peck your cheek, and all you can think about is how smooth his skin is as it grazes yours. Nothing like Joel’s coarse stubble that you love so much - especially when it leaves red patches on your cheeks, and your neck, and if you’re really lucky -

Matthew leans back a little, confused, and you’re brought out of your daydream. “Sorry, yeah, that’s me. (Y/N).” 

Well, that was awkward.

You just need to get through these next few hours, you think to yourself, smiling at the boy and letting him lead you out of the house and into his car. You can’t help but glance towards Joel’s place across the street; it looks quiet tonight, though his truck is in the driveway, and as soon as you look up you’re sure you catch the living room blinds suddenly draw shut. You smirk.

──────

The date was going… okay. About as okay as a date you don’t want to be on, with someone you have no interest in, and another man constantly on your mind could go. You could see why your Dad liked him; smart enough, well-polished. His father was a partner in the company, you learned - oh, he’s a ‘Daddy’s credit card’ type you’d thought - and by all intents and purposes he was the sort of guy any parent would hope to see their daughter end up with.

It’s never that easy though, is it?

Because he isn’t rough around the edges like Joel. He doesn’t have his stature, or carry himself with the same brute certitude. You can’t imagine him fucking you up against the wall, working himself up until he’s almost animalistic, somehow using you and worshipping you at the same time. And you can’t see him wrapping you up so tightly afterwards, holding you close and whispering how good you were for me, how proud of you I am.

No, only Joel could do that, and that’s how you like it.

The bill comes, Matthew suggests you split it. You don’t mind. He takes out his credit card, flashing it in front of you. “This is my Dad’s. I can use it as much as I want.” He’s smirking like he’s got something to be proud of, and you really had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead you just smile, before paying your share and making small talk as you head out the door and towards his car.

“So, I thought we could head back to my place.”

You freeze. Yeah, no, not gonna happen. He’s got this shit-eating grin on his face, one you knew all too well from past college boyfriends - that’s a boy who thinks he’s getting some tonight. You shudder, wrapping your arms around your waist and trying to sound sincere as you reply, “this has been lovely, but I’ve got an appointment early in the morning” - not really a lie, if staying in bed with a man over twice your age getting fucked or cuddled or both counts as an appointment - “so I’d rather just head home.”

You reach for the passenger side door, but it’s locked. You try again, pulling on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. You realise then that he’s stepped closer, too close, crowding your vision as you turn to face him while keeping one hand on the door’s handle. He leans an arm against the roof of the car, right beside your head, staring you down. 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I’ve got the house to myself tonight, it’ll just be us. I know that’s what you want, don’t be shy.”

His free hand pinches your chin, his touch aggressive where Joel’s is rough but careful, and he tries to close the already too-small gap between you.

You dodge him quickly, slipping out from under his arm and backing up, away from the car, away from him. Matthew just watches you, incredulous, before laughing to himself and taking a step forward. “Look, baby, I know you want this. What is it, are you scared your daddy’s gonna find out?”

“What? No, I-” you splutter, but he interrupts.

“Get in the car, (Y/N). You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out. I can see the way you look at me, I bet you’re dying to fu-”

A heavy sickness has flooded your stomach, your nerves shot from the sudden escalation of what was supposed to be a quiet, albeit tedious, night. But his words hit you, and before you can even think, you’re shouting back at him. 

“You seriously think I want to fuck you? You can’t even pay your half of the bill with your own money. Fuck that. I’ll make my own way home.”

The smug look on his face is quickly washed away with anger, and you continue to slowly step backwards as Matthew follows you. A lick of fear sets in now as the pale streetlights cast shadows on his darkened expression, and you scold yourself for opening your mouth.

“The fuck did you just say to me? Do you know who my Dad is?” - this really isn’t a good time to roll your eyes - “You think you’re too good for me, you bitch? I’ll show you.”

He stalks you, and your eyes frantically dart back to the restaurant you’d just left, though you’d backtracked far enough to be almost at the door again.

People are dining and laughing, some just sitting and watching the world go by. You’re well within their view, and you turn back to see that Matthew’s gaze has followed your own and he’s connected the dots. He can’t do anything in front of them. He locks eyes with you again, scoffing, heading back to his car and loudly shouting something that sounded a lot like “fuckin’ bitch.” Nice.

He drives away; you’re safe, out of the situation, and as the relief floods you the adrenaline does too and tears prick at your eyes. You sit on a small bench just outside the restaurant, dotted with shrubbery and stains from spilt drinks you assume, and take out your phone.

Your last chat with Joel is already open, and you breathe slowly in an attempt to still your shaking hands as you type quickly,

Please come and get me. He was trying to get me to go back with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s gone now but I have no ride home.

The text is marked as ‘read’ almost as soon as you send it, though you receive no reply. You didn’t expect to; Joel wasn’t much of a texter. Like, at all. He was slowly getting used to it, what with it being one of the only ways you could really talk when slipping over to his place was too risky. 

In this particular instance, you already knew he’d have read the text, dropped his phone without a second thought and hurried to his truck while muttering to himself what he’s gonna do to the kid, how he won’t see what’s comin’ to him.

Just how badly Joel might react worries you. He’s protective, incredibly so when it comes to you, and that combined with his white hot temper was surely a recipe for some sort of disaster.

Secretly, though, you loved it. And so as you sat on that little bench, frosty air nipping at your skin, you couldn’t help but revel in the warmth that pooled in your core at the thought of what sort of beast Joel would become tonight.

──────

It only takes him around 10 minutes to reach you, and you know for a fact he must’ve ran a red light or two because normally it’s a 20 minute drive at least into town. You stand, walking over to his truck, but before you can hop in he’s already storming out and wrapping you up in his arms, shielding you, eyes darting across the street.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Joel, I-”

“(Y/N) where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kill that little bastard. Fucking-”

His body is tense, far more so than usual, and anger pours from him in buckets. You pull away to look up at him, his eyes still searching for the boy long gone, and you sigh. “He’s gone, Joel. He left.”

He finally meets your eyes, a cold frown etched on his face, and he somehow looks even angrier than usual. “Did he touch you?” His hands roam your body, searching for you didn’t know what, but you let him do whatever he needed to relax. To know you were safe.

“No, Joely, he didn’t. I’m fine, I promise.”

It usually softens him right up, your little nickname for him. Joely. The first few times you used it, he’d just scoff or roll his eyes, but the small smirk that crept onto his face each time let you know he loved it. Quite how much he loved it was a different story; you hadn’t got together then, though the both of you wanted it, and as your relationship blossomed you became the only one he ever let call him anything other than Joel.

It doesn’t work this time, though, and he remains stern, finally letting you go and searching your eyes for even a hint of anxiety or fear. “What happened?”

“He tried it on, I said no. He tried again, I backed up and made sure there were people watching,” you nod towards the restaurant, still bustling with life. “And he left.”

Joel nods. “You tell him to fuck off?”

“‘Course i did.” 

It seems as if he finally lets up then, giving you a proper hug, one arm around your neck and the other around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hard, and the tension leaves him. “That’s my girl.”

You squeeze him tight, burrowing into his shirt and inhaling the scent of him that you loved so much. With one arm around your shoulders, he guides you back to his truck, opening the door for you and helping you. He does it everytime, but it still makes you blush, and you’re sure his lips smirk slightly as your cheeks turn red. Worth it.

The ride back to home is quiet, only the sound of his radio and passing traffic echoing between you. He keeps a hand on your knee, always protective, and every now and then you rub your palm over it to let him know you appreciate it. To say thank you.

Joel was never good with words, and you’d learned over the last few months just how much he relies on touch to express himself. To show love. You’d picked up on his habits, his little signs, his way of telling you his deepest thoughts without having to speak a word.

And when you reciprocated, when you wrapped your hand around his, or brushed his side at the neighbours’ BBQ, or kissed his shoulder in the kitchen, you knew just what it meant to him.

Your driveway is empty as Joel turns onto your street - your Dad must have set off for work already. You sigh in relief; you didn’t have the energy to explain all this to him, and certainly not the energy to try and sneak into Joel’s without him seeing.

Joel steps out first, taking a quick look around to make sure no nosey neighbours were watching, a precaution you were both used to by now. He grabs the door for you again, holding your hand and helping you out, holding you close to his side as he unlocks the door and you both slip inside.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He pauses, looking at you, concerned. ”No. You need somethin’ to drink. You need to- to lie down, or somethin’.”

You follow him into the kitchen as he stalks past you, not giving you time to answer and filling a glass with water and ice. “Drink,” he hands it to you.

You take it, thanking him and sipping as he watches. It’s sweet; he cares about you, so much, and when he looks at you like this you can’t help but feel butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s almost a whisper, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t so still already in his house.

“Hm?” You look at him, confused.

“I’m sorry he did that to you. S’not - s’not right. I mean, shit, what if you couldn’t get away?” He was spiralling.

“Hey, hey. Joel, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You set down the glass and take him in your arms. He calms, instantly, holding you tightly against him and cupping the back of your head with his hand.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“I know.”

He sighs. “I just wanna protect you, honey.”

“I know.”

He pulls back to look at you, framing your face with his hands and running his thumbs along the edge of your cheekbones.  You lean in, letting his lips capture yours in that sweet but desperate way that only Joel can, and moan into his mouth. He slips his tongue against yours, letting one arm fall to your waist as his hand lingers around the hem of your jeans.

The kiss becomes desperate and you reach for his belt, your arousal becoming unbearable as the memory of him so full of anger and protectiveness spins in your mind like a carousel. He breaks the kiss and you groan, chasing his swollen lips with yours.

“We don’t have to do this.” His southern drawl is slick with need, his eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. The moment is so sweet, so intimate, that any thoughts of what had happened today were long gone and your mind was full with sweepings of him.

“I want to.”

He grunts, pushing himself further into you so his nose brushes yours like a cat. So much so, you almost purr into him, and it makes you giggle. You curse yourself as he pulls back, cocking an eyebrow and giving you that stare you’d come to know all too well; you’re a pain in my ass, it says. But the corners of his lips turn upwards, and you step forward so you’re once again pressed right up against him, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw.

“You’ve had a big shock today, sweetheart,” he sighs.

You know he’s given up. You know he needs this as much as you do. But you humour him, and tip his head down so you can kiss his lips again. 

“So make me forget.”

It snaps something within him, and you shriek as Joel sweeps you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist in instinct and your head burying itself in his neck. He laughs at the sound you make, something you’d always known to be so rare for him, but that he does far more often now he has you. 

He carries you upstairs, gripping your thighs with his large hands, and the way he holds you so easily just turns you on more. He kicks his bedroom door open, all but throwing you on the bed and watching as you bounced softly on the sheets, undoing his belt that was already half-opened by your shaky hands.

“On your back. Lay your head towards me.”

You did as he said immediately, though your movements were slow, languid. He let you take your time; a part of you thinks he likes to watch you move for him, the way you put on a show, keeping your eyes locked on his and your lips slightly parted and puffy from his kiss. 

You lie on your back, your head dangling off the edge, looking up at him upside down. The hard outline of his cock is just centimetres above you, swollen already, and your desperation to taste it must’ve shown on your face because Joel groans out a soft, strangled “fuck.”

“You need this cock, baby? Need your throat fucked?” You just nod rapidly, desperate for him to do something other than just stand there and watch you, your arousal becoming unbearable. Joel seems to break, too, pulling down his jeans and boxers and gripping his hard length in his hands. 

It’s big at the best of times, but from this angle, his balls level with your eyes and his cock the only thing you can see when you look up at him, it’s painful how bad you need him.

You’d only discovered this position recently, on a night you’d spent at his place while your Dad was away with work, not unlike tonight. Joel had been floored, consumed with pleasure as the stretch of your spine made it so easy for him to slide himself through your mouth and down your throat, the muscles tensing around him and drawing his release much sooner than he’d have liked. 

He slides the head of his cock over your lips, painting them in his precum. You whine, lapping at his taste, desperate but you know better than to lift your hands off the bed. No, you give him control, and he lavishes it.

“Open up, babygirl.”

You comply, parting your lips and moaning as Joel pushes inside, giving you no time to breathe. You try to control yourself, inhaling through your nose and letting your muscles relax before he bottoms out, his groin almost entirely covering your face and your throat full of his thickness. 

It’s filthy, degrading, resigns you to nothing but his to fuck and use as he wants. 

You love it.

“Such a good girl, baby. So good for me, ain’t ya?” You can hardly even nod as your tongue flicks along a particularly swollen vein. He begins to move, pulling out almost entirely before slamming his cock back into your mouth. You moan again, and it hurts, in that delectable way that’ll spend the next few days reminding you of this moment.

Joel’s got one hand on the wooden foot of the bed, keeping himself steady. The other finds its way to your neck, and he stalls as he feels his cock beneath your skin, rapidly pushing in and out. He moans your name, his hips rocking into you harder and harder, chasing a release you knew he wouldn’t let himself have just yet. 

You’re completely at his mercy now, too consumed by his scent and his touch to think, and you hardly register him reaching for your hand and taking it in his own. He starts to mumble, and you only catch a few words - “my good girl. My girl. So- so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

He swells, your tongue working faster against him, his hand squeezing yours and his legs faltering when he suddenly pulls out and stands back with a whimper. Your eyes are glazed over, your sore throat misses him, and your pink swollen lips are trying to say something but you’re not sure what. It feels like his name.

“Come on, pretty girl, come here.” He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping his big arms around your back and guiding you into his lap. 

His fingers dance over your entrance, collecting the slick that soaked your thighs before pushing a single finger inside, revelling in your arousal. He admires you as you squirm, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for more and moaning against his lips. 

It’s almost embarrassing how easy you unravel for him, and if it weren’t for your utter infatuation for the man, you’d have hidden your pleasure and at least tried to hold onto some sense of dignity. But you were obsessed, addicted to him, and he knew it. Because god, was he addicted to you, too.

He kisses you, letting another finger slip inside and catching your hiss with his mouth. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, opening his eyes to look at you, his cock twitching against your thigh. 

“Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Y- you, Joel. I need you. Please.” You hardly register yourself saying the words, but they do the trick, as Joel removes his fingers and instead lines the tip of his cock with your soaking wet entrance. 

“Please, please, fuck me. Fuck-” 

He snaps his hips upwards, driving his cock into your cunt and you gasp as he stretches you. You grip at his shoulders, sure to leave marks, but you know he loves it. 

He sets the pace, guiding you to bounce on his cock as his hips snap upwards again and again, fucking you so hard you can almost see stars. 

His head is buried in your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin, and you try to regain some autonomy and roll your hips side to side making him mewl. 

“So - oh, fuck - so good baby, keep doin’ that.” He spurs you on as your breathless moans and the heavy slap of skin on skin fills the room, lewd but addictive.

The pace is brutal, unforgiving as your thighs tremble and you wonder if he’s feeling the burn of his movements. If he does, he doesn’t show it, just ramming into you and moaning your name against your ear. 

His hand falls from your waist and finds its way to your clit, making you gasp as he circles his thumb around the spot. The near pornographic moan that falls from his lips as you roll into his touch is nearly enough to make you cum right there, but you know better than to cum before he tells you to.

Instead he hoists you further up, giving him better control of your hips, and angles his cock so it hits that perfectly raw spot deep inside you that has tears in your eyes.

“I- I’m gonna-” 

“I know, baby. Just hold on for me. I’ve got you.” You cry at his denial, though it’s quickly forgotten as he flips you over onto your back, his head still tucked under the crook of your neck, his cock still buried inside you. He resumes his fast pace, reaching even deeper inside you with your legs locked around his waist, and you moan so loudly you worry someone’s going to hear you.

Joel doesn’t seem to care as he pulls back to look at you, marvelling at how utterly fucked-out you look for him. His pace starts to falter, each thrust more desperate than the last, and he frantically pushes his tongue into your mouth as you moan in unison.

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, that’s it.” You release on command, crying out as waves of pleasure spread like fire through your body, and the uncontrollable spasms of your orgasm make Joel groan as he spills inside you, still rocking into you and carrying both of your highs.

He doesn’t let his cock slip out of you as he wraps an arm under your back and rolls onto his side, holding you close as he brushes the matted hair away from your forehead and replaces it with a soft kiss. You hum, snuggling into him and trying not to gasp at the feeling of his cock inside you while you were still so sensitive. He can see you flinch and smiles, though he just wants you to rest for now.

“You okay, babygirl?” You just hum again, but he taps your chin and you look up. 

“Answer me, angel.”

“I’m good. Tired.”

Joel nods, running his hand through your hair and agreeing, “me too.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, almost dozing off as the heat that radiates from him lulls you gently to seep, when he breaks the silence again. “What’s his name?”

“Hm?” You reply, too fucked-out to really understand what he was saying.

“That little asshole. What’s his name?”

He’s looking down at you, brows knitted together, and you just sigh. “It doesn’t matter, Joel. He doesn’t matter. I promise.”

“But-“

You cut him off with a kiss, and the tension that built in his shoulders is quickly dissipated. “No ‘but’s. Get some sleep.”

“Aright,” he resigns. “I love you.”

It slips out, sudden, and he freezes before he realises the joy that’s spread across your face from his words. It’s the first time either of you have said it, and the way your eyes light up are enough to let him die a happy man. You nuzzle his nose, your hand gently lay on his chest, your eyes falling shut again. “I love you too, Joel.” He wraps you up tighter, grinning, happy. In love.. “And no asking my Dad, either.”

He scoffs, “I wasn’t going to!” You just cock a brow, eyes still shut, and though you can’t see him you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” 

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince at the loss, and sits up on the bed. When you can still feel his weight beside you, you crack an eye open to see him quickly typing something on his phone, and you frown. “Joel?”

He startles and drops his phone, turning to you and kissing the top of your head. “Sorry, baby, I’m going - just gimme a sec to get you a warm cloth.”

As he leaves for the bathroom you snatch his phone, already knowing what he’d done. Your Dad’s name is at the top of the screen, the chat from just moments ago still open:

What’s the name of that kid (Y/N) went out with?

Matthew Wicks, he’s the new apprentice at work. Why?

Just wondered.

You’re weird, man.

Joel creeps out of the bathroom, frozen as he sees you lock his phone. He offers a small, guilty smile, quickly wiped away as you grab his pillow and playfully launch it at his chest. 

“JOEL!”

──────

Thank you so much for reading! As ever, comments and weblogs are so appreciated, and please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future fics!

#dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal #tlou fic #tlou show

[petrichorium]

the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 bakugou #that one beach episode #just a lil merbaku 👉👈 #for the soul #w a spitfire reader bc im me JHSBDF #this is reposted!!! i wrote it like two yrs ago for jotato kujo lmfaoooooo but rewrote it for bakugo who tbh i think it works for even bett #but the og is still up on my ao3 so

[momentia]

“ah yes, this is a Serious Event, i will wear my blue and yellow button up half buttoned with no tie under a purple suit” guys the line this minor character walks of f*cking a cop while still clearly not thinking all that much of the whole establishment... admirable, hilarious, hope we see more of him next season

#like he *owns* a black blazer we saw it back in 212 or thereabouts #this was a choice #soooooo sad we didn't get a look at whatever shoes he paired with that because i'm sure they were horrifying #tagging #amber personal #because i was laughing to myself a lot this morning because like. i don't actually think my neighbors notice me. but if they do. it's #like 'oh my fucking god did the pothead in XXXX wake up an hour early to watch law and order at seven a.m. without headphones' but like #yeah she did because headphones and applying icy hot don't go well together #and i am in soooooooooooo much pain today #(nothing an extra hour of sleep could have helped with) #(it's gonna rain later i think i feel it in the scar tissue that holds my spine together) #also like lmao this was a really weak poorly done episode which i GUESS is what happens when you're still filming four days before air and #left 47 loose ends to tie up in 41 minutes #idk whether this is nbc's fault for not picking up s3 until last week or if this is just bad pacing #also notice how i don't tag my bullshit opinions with character and ship names so no one has to see them? #unless other people call this show looc IN WHICH CASE IGNORE ME I KNOW I HAVE UNPOPULAR OPINIONS AND I'M NOT TRYING TO MAKE THEM ANYONE'S #PROBLEM thank you bye #looc #police cw

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

#good omens mascot #good omens #good omens fandom #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #crowley #aziraphale #lgbtqia #maggots #neil gaiman #anthony j crowley #go 1 #good omens season 1 #good omens 1 #go 1 summary #go 1 finale #good omens livestream #go 1 livestream #aziraley #azirowley #adam the antichrist #weirdly the prophet #good omens prophet #good omens posting #good omens funny #IF MY RAGE IS FUNNY #sorry back to tagging #michael sheen #david tennant #no nightingales

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Welcome all, to the fuck-you-up music bracket!

Ever had a song you can't get out of your head, a song that strips you down to your very being and leaves you with nothing? A song that you project onto your angstiest of blorbos? A song that hits you smack where you live? Or how about a song that you just really enjoy?

Then this tournement is for you! Here you can submit your favourite song that fucks you up the most, and battle it out to see which ballard will be named the ultimate fuck-you-up song of tumblr!

Submission Rules

Submissions will stay open for a week, but if I get a crazy amount of submissions, then it'll close sooner.

Alternatively, if I don't get as many, I might leave it open longer so there's a good amount :)

This probably goes without saying by this point, but don't do multiple re-submissions of the same song. It just makes the sorting process so much more difficult for me

Yes, you can submit songs from musicals and TV shows. However, I won't be including more than 2-4 songs from each media, depending on how long that particular soundtrack is.

Song must be at least remotely fuck-you-up-ish. You must be able to justify its place within the tournement

Instrumentals are allowed

You can rant a bit about whatever blorbo you may project the song onto. It'll help me understand it better

You're allowed to submit a song by a problematic artist, however I am not in control of how quickly that gets voted off

Propaganda is allowed and encouraged! No slander though

Submissions close on Friday 26th of May at 5.00pm (UK time)

If there's any problems with the form or if you have any questions, send an ask! :)

SUBMISSIONS NOW CLOSED

Tagging other tournaments

@battleoftheicyfreaks @4thwallbreakersshowdown @terrific-tiger-throwdown @adhdvsautismbracket @red-black-aesthetic-bout @four-of-them-showdown @guess-that-ship @maskedcharacterbracket @latine-showdown @who-do-i-know-this-man @best-bird-bash @italian-tournament @he-would-not-fucking-say-that @aroace-awsomeness-arena @patheticmenscuffle @transmascswagbracket @weird-song-bracket @gentle-giant-swag @mysterycharacterbracket

[ladyluscinia]

I know my last experience with a season ending on a note everyone hated and unanimously tore to fucking shreds for destroying the story on every level was... atypical. Lockdown. 6 month mass hysteria at minimum. Conspiracy theories that were, like, real things we had on camera. There was a Twitter wedding. Creative fervor that broke 100k fics on AO3.

Like. I know this is not a rational point of comparison and I'm not going to expect anything in my lifetime to match it 🤣

But.

If that was the highest high of post-season fandom engagement built on a cocktail of tasting everything you ever wanted AND the absolutely lethal levels of spite and swearing to eat showrunners' hearts in the marketplace, then whatever the fuck is going on after OFMD S2 is the opposite of that.

OFMD S1 was a huge fandom explosion. One silly little streaming show that had a gay kiss and then it skyrocketed. Fic numbers were soaring, high activity fic and meta engagement lasted for at least four months, it was constantly trending and flooding the dash... Like, fucking hell, over a year and a half after the immediate finale fervor it beat Stucky in the top ships bracket?!? To the point I was willing to give it what felt like due credit toward its potential as a future juggernaut ship. Not guaranteed, of course, but the potential was there.

In that context, new content should be a blow out party. Which it kinda was pulling off as it was airing, but looking back now? Not even quite a month later?

The effect of S2 on the fandom is like... a blip. Possibly over already.

New fic numbers started dropping off the moment the finale aired and have returned to deep hiatus levels. It's dropped off trending and streaming leaderboards... I'm very curious to see the first tumblr Week in Review since the finale, though we're still waiting due to the holiday.

Like, I've even popped on to scroll a few Izzy hater blogs that I know loved the finale out of morbid curiosity what they were up to, and I'm telling you... if I hadn't just watched the new season I'd think they were still over a year into hiatus. Saw some standard bitching about the izcourse / Edward takes (aka the one thing that kept them going all hiatus), they're currently passing around posts mocking one specific long OFMD version of TJLC I'm just hearing of, the same BTS gifsets everyone else is thrilled by... But barely any new meta or discussions. There's like 2 people posting actual analysis of S2 that's getting reblogged and they aren't even names I recognize from the hiatus. Nor is it particularly interesting to read. 🤷‍♀️

In July of 2022 I could pop onto a random OFMD blog and scroll through a dozen enthusiastic Stede or BlackBonnet metas about jacket colors or that moth from 1x07 or lighthouse symbolism or whatever. Now the new stuff has the same energy as posts from June 2023. It's borderline dead. And this is what it's like when there's an active campaign to engage fandom and Renew as a Crew?

(I will say fanartists are bringing some energy and there's some lovely pieces being passed around, which I do think the Renew as a Crew campaign is helping to boost?)

Even the hundreds of people saying it was a beautiful season and they loved it so much don't seem to be finding it a very engaging or inspiring season.

It's such a turn, like, what the fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd critical #fandom culture #i was counting on this season to still having me engaged in analysis come *january* and THAT'S not going to pan out obviously #but what the fuck #i'm turning over stones like 'surely the excited fandom is hiding here' and then it's 3 bugs with an anti-izzy pamphlet #like if people weren't trying to process their dislike of the finale then half this fandom's new content wouldn't exist #and that's not promising for the long run 👀👀👀 #ladyluscinia

[karmavongrim]

Love Spell fanfic idea

DP x DC fanfiction idea named "Love Spell" that I have been mulling over the past couple of weeks.

Klarion x Danny shipping (Chaotic Spirits) story, because why not and it would be fun to write about the chaos these two could cause.

Took some inspiration from this, this, bit of this and this.

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Danny really didn’t know whatever he should laugh, cry or flip the nearest table he could get his hands on. He never really thought highly of the Justice League to begin with, hell, you would be hard-pressed to find anybody in Amity Park who did nowadays.

But this… this could just as well take the metaphorical cake of bullshit that has been piling up over the past three years.

He took a deep, measured breath before focusing back on his boyfriend. His sweet, lovable, very-much-chaotic-immortal-man-child of a boyfriend.

“...They think I’m what now?”

On the other side of this conversation sat Klarion, the witch boy extraordinaire, who was combing his slender fingers delicately through his precious familiar’s fur as he watches his beloved having a hard time grasping at the situation. And since he thought of himself to be a rather fantastic boyfriend, he repeated what he said.

“The League of Simpletons have somehow gotten in their heads that I must have enthralled you in one way or another in order to get my hands on some ultimate power, as part of my apparently evil master plan.”

Danny took another breath, this was just getting ridiculous. But then again what else was new, these people really knew how to make a mountains out of a molehills. Even Wes didn’t have this severe of an apophenia, he at least ended up being right more often than not.

“So they think you’ve put me under a love spell or something?”

Klarion merely shrugged in mock-helplessness. “Apparently you wouldn’t be dating me otherwise.” In all honesty he probably shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he currently is, but he couldn’t help himself.

His ever present smirk widened when his beloved Starlight’s face twitched in irritation. “For Ancient’s sake… seriously?” A simple nod was enough for Danny to want to throw the next Justice Idiot who was stupid enough to come close to Amity Park’s boarders through the nearest window!

Calm down Danny, calm down. Just remember Jazz’s breathing exercise. One… two… three…

…

Wait a minute… would that mean- no way in hell way they’ve been…

“Wait a minute- Is that the fucking reason why they’ve constantly been ruining our dates these past few months!?”

Another nod.

Yeah, fuck being calm and shit, ya boy is absolutely livid! All this time they were doing it on fucking purpose!! He so is going to burn all of their ugly ass capes and dye all their ugly ass costumes pink! Better yet, he’ll paint their entire HQ with the most obnoxious and clashing colours possible.

Klarion let the halfa rage about for a good moment before interjecting. It wouldn’t do to have the lounge destroyed, especially when that energy could be used on something else he has in mind.

“We could have fun with this you know, at their expense.”

Danny stopped in his track and turned his inquiry gaze towards Klarion. He knows that smile and it could only mean trouble, trouble which he was more than willing to partake in. A smirk of his own began to grace his lips. “What do you have in mind exactly?”

Once again Klarion was reminded why he’s dating this gorgeous creature in the first place. Trust him to be able to match his chaotic nature despite his hero persona.

“Oh you are going to love it, my dear.”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #klarion #klarion bleak #klarion the witch boy #dp x dc fic #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #chaotic spirits #dp x dc fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #justice league #klarion x danny #love spell fanfic #danny is so done with justice league #chaotic ghost

[deandoesthingstome]

Heart Wide Open

Pairing: Syverson x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some talk about sexual situations, a little pining

A/N: There is a lot going on that isn’t Syverson these days, but this just came to me in a haze and I wanted to write it down and send it off to the world. Much like this letter you decided you needed to write to the guy you spent a few weeks with before he shipped out. It was no big deal, right?

Dear Sy,

I hope it’s okay that I'm writing. You said I could if I wanted to. It was weird addressing the envelope (yes, I addressed the envelope before I started this letter; I was nervous. Sue me.) Writing your full name, I mean. You said I could just call you Sy, but I’m doubting the US Army knows how to find you by just Sy. 

Or maybe they do.

Anyway. I was thinking about you the other day, in the oddest place. I mean, it’s not an odd place for me. Just a strange place to be thinking about you. I was at the yoga studio for an evening class. It was one of those “hippy dippy” classes you liked to tease me about. Not the power flow classes that you almost respected, but the slow, stretchy, touchy-feely one with the real quiet voices and everything on the ground.

Anyway. I started thinking about the way your fingers and lips danced over my skin when you had me naked on my back. The way you held the swell of my tits in your hands. The way it felt when you kissed my lips and then my neck, down my chest and onto my belly. The way you didn’t hesitate at all between my legs. I remembered the way it felt every time you sank your hips against mine and pressed into me, rocking with some kind of magic that let you hold on while I let go, over and over again.

I wonder how long this letter is going to take to get to you and where you’ll be when it arrives. Will you be able to read it in privacy? God I hope so. Maybe I should rip this up and start again.

Except I can’t, because I wanted to tell you how I think about what it’ll be like for you when you get this letter. If maybe you’ll be able to stay quiet in your bunk. Or maybe you have a private room somehow. Because I hope that when you read about the way I think about you, you’ll think about me, too. And maybe, while you’re reading this, you’ll need to unbutton your pants while you think about the way I used to take you between my lips. And maybe you’ll try to imagine it’s my hand wrapped around you.

God I hope you weren’t kidding about all those times you shifted me up and over your chest so I could settle right down on your tongue and let you make me scream again while I held onto the headboard. You said you liked doing that and I definitely like having it done, so maybe that’s something you’ll think about. 

God, Sy, I fucking miss you so much. Maybe I’m not supposed to say that this soon. But I do. I know I’m probably not supposed to say a lot of these things in this letter. (Fuck, does the military read your letters like you were in prison? God I hope not!) 

But I just can’t stop myself from telling you how I feel. I held back when you left. I didn’t want to make you nervous. Like you owed me anything. But I really like you, Sy. I never thought I’d say that about someone like you. But you made it so easy to look past our differences and find the things we had in common, even if just for that short amount of time. 

I know it was just a little companionship before you left. I mean, that’s all we said it would be. But I think about you all the fucking time, and I miss you.

I know I’m supposed to keep it light. Talk about the day to day so you can keep a little of home in your head.  Okay, but when I think about telling you about the new restaurant they opened up downtown, all I can imagine is taking you there when you get home. (Yes, fine, I know. Letting you take me there when you get home. Whatever.) I think you’d like it, Sy. It’s pretty all-american food but in a nicer-than-a-bar atmosphere. And I know, there’s nothing wrong with a bar. It is, afterall, where we met. 

But I wondered if the end of the night would turn out the same if you took me home from this restaurant instead of from the bar. If you’d still want to tear my clothes off as soon as we stepped over the threshold and locked the door. If I’d have to remind you to keep it down for the neighbors before I just gave up and joined you, funny looks in the parking lot be damned.

If we’d even make it to the bedroom, or if you’d take me bent over on the couch first, the way you did that first night. I really fucking liked that. Did I tell you that? I’m sure I did, but just in case. Sy. You can fuck me bent over the couch any time you want. 

Shit, there I go again. I should really rip this up and start over. Except you said I could say anything I wanted if I decided to write. Come to think of it, why did you ask me to write? We said we were keeping it light, and I didn’t want to scare you off, but something about the way you asked me to write…Should I have said something sooner? Before you got on that bus?

Fuck. Okay. So I’m supposed to tell you about the everyday. But my everyday was always so much different than your everyday, remember? It was a fluke I was at that bar that night. An out of town friend who had a thing for military guys. We were just out catching up. I figured we’d have a few drinks, she’d find someone to shack up with, and I’d send her on her way with his details on a piece of paper in case she didn’t make it home the next day. 

God I was so uncomfortable there. I couldn’t believe she’d talked me into it. And I was about to turn around and walk out when you walked in. Remember? How could you forget? I crashed right into you. And you apologized even though it was so clearly my fault, and you bought me and my friend a round and sat with us while you waited for your buddies.

I swear, Sy. I had no idea she’d take both of them home that night, leaving you all alone with little old me. But you didn’t care. We closed that bar down. I never do that.  And after you came home with me that night, after you took me on that couch, and then the bed, and later in the shower before you left? You called me. 

God I’m really stupid, aren’t I? Telling you all this like you weren’t there. But in writing this all down, I’m seeing so many signs I must have just willfully ignored. You made time for me, over and over again even though you were getting ready to ship out. Was I that reserved, maybe even a little standoff-ish, that you worried if you came on too strong, I’d run? Is that why you said, “just a bit of fun, okay?” To make it easier for me? 

Hey, when you come back, we should go to dinner. Maybe a movie. I know a great place to go hiking. Sy, I want to spend more time with you. I guess that’s what this letter is all about. And I know I started off talking about how well you fucked me, and I mean that for sure. But I want you to know I really liked our times together even when we weren’t fucking. I liked talking with you about the things we agree and disagree on. I liked seeing you laugh. I loved it when you made me laugh. 

Shit. I think I really fucked this up, Sy. I know I was supposed to keep it light. But I just can’t. I want you to know, so there’s no misunderstanding. I’m waiting for you to come back. I’ll keep an eye on the mail, too. If you write back and tell me I read it all wrong, I mean, it’ll suck, but I’ll respect that. 

But I couldn’t let you go on over there thinking there wasn’t anyone back home thinking about you and wishing you well every night. That yoga class the other day? Her theme was heart openers. Every pose, designed to drop the collarbones away from the chest and open up the space. I guess that’s how I got to thinking about you. During the meditation, she invited us to send love first to ourselves, then to someone we care about, and finally even to someone we don’t particularly care about. 

Taglist: @sillyrabbit81​ @kittenofdoomage​ @raccoon-eyed-rebel​ @mayloma​ @geralts-yenn​ @fvckinghenrycavill​ @kebabgirl67​ @beck07990​ @itsrubberbisquit​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @liveoncoffeeandflowersss​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @marantha​ @aireraume​ @angelmather1​ @lizzystuffsthings​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @omgkatinka​ @littlefreya​ @avengersfan25​ @thesaucynomad​ @just-chirpin​

But when it was someone I care about, I sent my love to you, Sy. I’m sending it to you now. I’ve got my heart wide open for you. I hope you want it.

Part 2

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #heart wide open #henry cavill characters #mine #deandoesthingstome