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joelalorian · 6 months

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.6k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which is explained in this chapter.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love the first chapter received - my heart is fit to burst!

Chapter One | Main Masterlist

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

You walked the few blocks over to Joel’s house on Monday morning, ready to start your new gig as Sarah’s… babysitter wasn’t the right word. Nanny? Au pair? Nah, that didn’t work either. Whatever, the wording did not matter. You were helping Joel out by taking care of his daughter when he couldn’t, that’s what mattered. Jeez, you thought as you walked along the sleepy neighborhood sidewalk, you were one step away from talking to herself aloud like a mad woman.

When you finally reached Joel’s house, already damp with sweat from the lingering heat, climbing the porch steps to the front door with your eyes glued to Joel’s truck, you realized the flaw in this arrangement.

You didn’t have a car.

How the hell were you supposed to take the kid to and from school without a car?

How did you not realize this sooner?

Knuckles rapping on the door, your teeth worried your plump bottom lip as you considered your options. Admit to the gorgeous single father relying on you to help with his precious daughter that you were a complete flake. Sneakily order an Uber with the hope that Sarah will keep her mouth shut about it. Or just buy a car off one of those online dealers and hope it gets delivered in time.

Those options weren’t great, but what the hell else did you have to work with?

The door finally opened to reveal a frazzled Joel, tee shirt inside out and dark curls mussed. A giggle bubbled out before you could stop it.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Joel greeted, his lips tilting upwards at the sight of you while his free hand attempted to tame his wild curls. “Come on in. We’re runnin’ a little behind schedule this morning.”

“Good morning, Joel.” Your eyes drank him in. Even in his disheveled state he was gorgeous. If anything, the harried morning look made him even more endearing.

He stepped aside to let you in, glancing to the driveway then the curb. “Where’s your car? Did you walk here?” he questioned, confused.

And just like that, the pleasant feeling of seeing him again washed away in embarrassment. You almost forgot about the car situation again. “Yeah, ‘bout that. I don’t actually have a car.” You could practically see the wheels turning behind his dark chocolate eyes as he stared at you.

Finally, Joel’s head bobbed in a nod as he led you into the kitchen. “Okay, we can make it work. Tommy is on his way over and I’ll just hitch a ride to work with him. You can use my truck for running Sarah around.”

“You sure?” you questioned doubtfully. “I’m sorry, it didn’t occur to me that I don’t have wheels until I was standing on your porch.”

Waving off your apologetic concern, Joel called for Sarah to come down for breakfast. Turning back to you, he smiled, the scruff of his beard barely concealing a delightful little dimple. “Don’t worry about it. Just use my truck when you’re on duty until we figure something else out. It’s not like I need it when I’m stuck on a job site all day.”

“Well, thanks for being understanding, and so kind,” you replied, feeling a little overwhelmed by how wonderful Joel was being.

Sarah appeared at your side as Joel dug in his pocket for his keys, throwing her arms around your waist. “You’re here!”

“I am!” You hugged the little girl to your side with a laugh, surprised to see Joel’s warm gaze on you when you looked up. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“Here are my keys – this one is for the truck, obviously, and this one is for the front door. Don’t mind the other ones,” he said after clearing his throat, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. “I’ll get a spare house key made this week so you can come and go as you please. You have my cell number, so call me if you run into any problems with the truck or anything else.”

Once Sarah was seated at the table with a bowl of cereal, Joel filled you in on a few other details pertaining to Sarah’s weekday routine and where anything you might need was located in the house.

“Drop off at 8:30, pick up at 3, homework before play, and don’t let her snack too much before dinner,” you summarized his instructions. “I got it. I can make dinner, too, if you’d like.”

Dark eyes flashed with a hint of something indecipherable again as Joel smiled. “You don’t have to do that unless I’m gonna be real late. I’ll call or text to let you know when I expect to get home each day.”

“Sounds good.” Your finger traced random patterns on the countertop as you watched the Millers go about their morning routine and you wondered if you should say something about his tee shirt. You didn’t want to embarrass the guy, but it would be rude not to let him know, right? What was the protocol here? If it was you, you’d want to know before leaving the house, right?

Before you could decide what to do, Tommy came bursting through the front door, boisterous voice calling out for his brother. “Come on, man. We gotta get rollin’!”

Joel rolled his eyes to you as Tommy came to a halt in the kitchen, the younger brother’s smile widening when his eyes raked over you. “Well, hello again, gorgeous.”

“Hey Tommy,” you greeted in return, glancing between the two brothers. Where Joel was broad and brooding, Tommy was lithe and energetic, and flirty to a fault. Both were handsome, but Tommy had ‘player’ written all over him. He was the exact type of guy that you avoided getting entangled with – the overconfident, love ‘em and leave ‘em type.

Growing tired of his brother gawking at you, Joel grumbled. “Alright, stop flirting, Tommy. It’s time to go.” Dropping his empty coffee cup in the sink, he turned back to you. “Call me if you need anything, darlin’.”

You nodded with a smile, watching the brothers kiss Sarah goodbye.

“Your shirt’s on inside out, asshole,” Tommy blurted out suddenly causing Joel’s cheeks to pinken. “God dammit,” he muttered, tugging the shirt over his head to set it right.

Unable to tear your gaze away from the glimpse of broad chest and slightly soft tummy, you jolted when something bumped your shoulder. Snapping your head to the side, you frowned at Tommy’s beaming grin. “Ah, I see how it is,” he said cryptically, the grin never leaving his lips.

“What?” you asked, baffled, mind still flooded with the image of a briefly shirtless Joel. The brothers were gone before you could shake your head clear.

Joel’s truck was ornery, you learned quickly. Stomp too hard on the gas pedal and it stalled. Don’t step hard enough on the pedal and it made funny noises while going nowhere fast. Brake too hard and it squealed. Don’t brake hard enough and, well, then you’d crash, obviously. It was a damn Goldilocks truck, but you adapted quickly, making sure you could get Sarah to and from school safely.

God, could you imagine if your first call ever to Joel was to tell him you crashed his truck and put his daughter in danger – or worse yet, she got hurt? That would be beyond awful!

By the afternoon, you and the truck had come to a grudging agreement. You would treat it nicely and it would do what you wanted it to. That was another sign you were losing your mind, right? Coming to agreements with inanimate objects? It was getting sad. You needed a life, some human socialization, for fucks sake.

“Hey nugget!” you called to Sarah, spotting her bouncing down the steps of the front entrance to the K-8 school. It was the very one you applied to earlier in the day, hoping to take over for a science teacher retiring at the end of the year.

“Hey! That’s what my dad calls me!” the little girl declared as she came to a halt in front of you.

“I know! It’s such a cool nickname, much better than the one my dad gave me,” you laughed and opened the passenger door, watching her scramble into the seat like a pro. Satisfied with the security of Sarah’s seatbelt, you jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped up into the truck.

“What’s your nickname?” Sarah asked as you started the truck with an encouraging pat on the dash.

“Spud,” you groaned, voice barely louder than the rumble of the truck’s engine.

Sarah’s brow furrowed and her cute little nose scrunched up. “Spud? Why does your dad call you that?”

“Ugh, the way he tells it, I was a really chunky baby. ‘Round like a potato’ he said. He didn’t like the thought of calling me ‘potato’ so, the nickname spud was born. I’ve hated it every day, but my dad loves it, so I tolerate it for his sake.”

Sarah listened to your explanation with rapt attention. “Yeah, I can see why you like mine better. I’ll make sure to never call you spud. Maybe we can come up with something better?”

“Thanks, kid! I’d like that.”

The rest of the ride back to Joel’s house was quiet as you focused on driving and Sarah bobbed her head to some tune she hummed. Once you pulled to a careful stop in the driveway, the little girl turned into a chatterbox, recounting every moment of her day as you led the way inside and prepared a small snack.

“Fourth grade is quite the adventure, I see,” you said when she finally stopped to nibble at an apple slice. “I don’t remember it being quite that much fun.”

There wasn’t any homework to assist with, but Sarah insisted on showing you all the A grades she got on her work from last week. She preened under your undivided attention, and you encouraged her to keep working hard.

The two of you were in the midst of playing some Lego video game when your phone buzzed with a text from Joel letting you know he was on his way home. The job site wasn’t far, and he walked through the door before 5 pm to find you and Sarah giggling as you bashed away at things in the video game. You were both laying on the floor, knees bent, and heads perched on throw pillows from the couch as you stared up at the TV. Neither of you even noticed him come in and he smiled at the precious moments he had to take in how genuinely happy Sarah was in your company.

Sarah caught sight of him first, pausing the game and rushing over to hug him. He eyed you as he hugged his daughter, his exhausted gaze silently thanking you for taking care of his entire world.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” he asked, kicking off his boots before stepping farther into the house. “I was gonna order pizza.”

Tempted to say yes just to spend more time with him, you declined knowing they had limited father-daughter time. “Thank you, though. I should get back to my house to finish the paperwork for transferring my teaching certification. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joel escorted you to the door, watching as you descended the porch steps and strolled down the sidewalk until you were out of sight.

The next few weeks followed the same pattern with you staying late a few nights a week or covering a Saturday when Joel was stuck on a job site. You started making dinner most evenings. Whether he made it home early or late, he always seemed exhausted, and you wanted to ease his burden as much as possible. You might have also wondered how many home-cooked meals the pair actually ate when Joel was left in charge of dinner.

You bought a car off another one of your dad’s buddies – a no nonsense sedan just to get you around town with Sarah safely. Some days, while Sarah was at school, you would even do Joel’s food shopping, knowing that he liked to shop at the bulk stores to save money.

Soon, you found yourself staying longer after Joel got home, eager to spend time with him and watch him be a dad. He was such a good one, much like your own, always giving Sarah his full attention and speaking to her with respect and making sure she felt heard. It left you in awe of the man he was and your burgeoning crush quickly, and quite by accident, developed into an affectionate longing for something you couldn’t have.

“How’s it going with Spud?” your dad asked, taking a swig from the bottle of beer in his hand. Seated at a table on the Miller’s back patio with Joel and Tommy, the men enjoyed a few after-work beers as you and Sarah sat together in the grass nearby.

“Why do you call her that, JB? I always wondered.” Joel questioned in return, curiosity finally getting to him.

You dad laughed, the memories of you as a baby always brought a smile to his face. “She was the chunkiest little potato as a baby, all round with the cutest chipmunk cheeks. The nickname spud just popped into my head and stuck from day one.”

Joel’s chestnut eyes flicked over to watch you during your dad’s explanation, a bubble of guilty warmth building in his gut. He found you immediately attractive when you first met, but now, nearly a month into getting to know and spend time with you, a strong affectionate attraction began to develop. It was wholly against his will, too. You were JB’s daughter – his best friend aside from his brother – and therefore off limits.

Surely him lusting after you broke some guy code, right?

Maybe he just needed to get laid. That would set him straight.

As if reading his mind, JB changed the subject. “Now that you have some help with Sarah, maybe it’s time to get back into the dating world. You need the love of a good woman, son.”

“Yeah, how long’s it been since you had a girlfriend, brother?” Tommy chimed in with a smirk. “A decade?”

The younger brother merely chuckled in response to Joel’s scowl. “I’ve dated, just none of them were good enough to bring home,” he replied, a rough edge to his deep voice. “Sarah’s always come first.”

“As she should.” JB nodded. “I know it ain’t easy being a single dad, but you have to make some room and time for yourself otherwise you’ll go crazy.”

Your dad went on to share some of his experiences with dating as a single dad and how you practically begged him to find a girlfriend when you were a teenager, just so he’d give you some space. After a short while, JB and the Miller men were laughing so hard their eyes were watering. At one point, Joel caught you watching them with a tender smile on your lips and his heart skipped a beat.

“Okay, I guess it’s time to put myself out there,” Joel admitted, forcing his gaze away from you.

“Yeah? I know someone who’d love to go on a date with you!” Tommy declared excitedly, turning to JB. “You know Annica over at the lumber yard? She’s been gagging over this one for ages. I’ll text her to set something up for Saturday night.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then. You’re going on a date, son!”

Joel’s brow furrowed, glancing between your dad and Tommy wondering if he just made a huge mistake.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #eventual romance

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oreo-creampie · 1 year

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𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮/ 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dealer!toji, dealer!sukuna, dealer!suguru, dealer!satoru, gun play, oral (giving and receiving) light embarrassment, teasing, reader more into than she is scared of it, hints of a size kink, hint of reader being shy, light fingering, satoru plays with your clit, praise, praising degradation, jerking off, squirting, gun play - toji rubs it on your cunt - lightly fucks you with the tip before having you lick it clean

It was a choice to come alone. Good or bad? You’re teetering between the two. Glancing at the gun resting on the table next two thin white lines of ketamine, a rolled up dollar bill and some previous weight out bud.

He grabs the gun off the coffee table you keep glancing at. Checking the chamber, then clicking it back into place, spinning it. Slipping the cool tip of the barrel beneath your chin, tilting your head up.

The scared corner of his lip twists up into a smirk. “Does my gun scare ya princess?” There a snicker from one of his friends.

You press your tights together, shifting beneath Toji’s unwavering, cold gaze. His dark forest green eyes captivating yet hard to maintain eye content with. He’s looming over you, standing up whilst your sitting on the edge of his sofa. Hands clasp together in your lap.

Toji is blocking out the rest of the room with his large tattooed body. Doing everything he can to keep your attention solely on him instead of his friends in the room. You are so small beneath him, and it’s exciting.

Taking a breathe, impatience trickling into his eyes covering up the amusement. “Don’t have all night, other customers should be coming by soon. Answer honestly and for tonight I’ll play nice. Well as nice as a dirty beautiful slut deserves.” He drops the gun, leaning forward whilst you press yourself back into the sofa he grabs a hold of.

Partly caging you in, he taps the gun on your knees and your part your legs without a thought. Watching him drag the gun up your leg is surreal. Your body flushing with the heat of embarrassment and want, the coolness of the metal is welcoming.

“Yes and no? And…” closing your eyes, rushing out, “what if I don’t want you to be nice?” Your heart thuds in your chest, more heat rushing into your face. He slaps the gun on your thigh and you jolt.

Opening your eyes whining, spreading your legs wider, showing him your wet panties. He groans, “Oh?” a predatory, hungry smirk stretches across his lips. “Our princess wants me to bully her?” He nudges the gun lightly against your soaking wet cunt.

Twisting your hips down, grinding your clit, not caring there are other men in the room watching you. With your legs spread open and your one of your dealer’s gun pressed to your needy cunt. You want them to watch, to touch themselves and want a turn.

Pleading with Toji, “Please? My safeword is cherry.” He fondles himself through his sweats. His large fist wrapping around this thick cock, tightening the fabric over his head, highlighting it. He kneels in front of you, glancing past Toji’s broad shoulders.

A beautiful man with soft pastel pink hair and a black shadow root catches your attention first. He has a large cohesive, continuous tattoo on his face, neck, arms and chest. The ink along his v line hinting at more on his cock or thighs. You want to trace the line with your tongue to find which it would be.

Toji rips your panties off, lifting it to his nose, staring you in the eyes as he takes a deep breath. “Sweet ass cunt, I could tell from the moment I saw ya, you would have a beautiful slutty little cunt.” He licks the damp part, groaning then dropping the useless fabric.

He lines the barrel of the gun up with lips, parting them, smearing your slick. Gliding the gun up to your clit, swirling it around. The cool metal heating up from the warmth of your cunt. It shouldn’t feel so good.

The pretty one with white hair, and striking blue eyes and a playful smirk on his glossy pale pink lips stands up. Taking the seat next to you, grabbing your thigh, pulling your leg onto his lap. “I'm Satoru. It’s cute seeing you try to collect your nerves. Makes me want to fuck the shyness outta you princess.”

Furrowing your brows, huffing, “Im not that shy! Just awkward, I dunno any of you. And…and! All of you are so big, I don't know any of you. I-I-ah! Ngg!” You can’t get the words out when Toji tries to nudge the gun inside you.

Erupting between your legs is a fiery sweet, pleasurable pain of getting roughly stretched erupting between your legs startling but satisfying. Tensing up and jerking your hips away.

Relaxing whilst Satoru rubs your clit, testing the pressure to see what makes you squirm. "Aw we're too big and scary?" He quickens the pace, whilst Toji glides the tip of his gun out.

Dipping his head between your legs, slipping his tongue inside you. Moaning into your cunt, I'm going to make sure you can't walk out of here." Shivering, his words, his voice, watching his lips move. How could you be this turned on by someone?

The others are going to be upset they aren't getting their shit till the morning. But they shouldn't have ditched you. Forgetting about making it back to the apartment till tomorrow morning.

Dumbly stating, "Till I can't walk!" The sweet pleasure building an intense pressure between your legs. Toji’s tongue moves faster. The pleasure of having your soaking wet cunt played with by two meaning hampering your previous nervousness beneath thick layers of horniness.

You want to cum till your loose count, drench their cock in balls with your slick whilst they fucked you stupid.

You're even craving the intimate aftercare you neglect with others to avoid any attachment. The thought of not having a worry or thought afterward when you're being held close in the afterglow is too tempting.

One of the guys, chastises Satoru, “Toru don't pick on her too much, Toj has been doing enough of that. You are going to chase her off before we all get a taste of her sweet cunt.” He is carefully gathering his long, silky, shiny dark hair into a neat bun. Some of his long bangs fall into his handsome face.

There is a gentle, calm smile on his soft lips that don’t meet his tired, disapproving eyes. And in an instant your too eager to for validation and praise more so from him. He is staring at you, whilst not actually looking at you. But more so what he could get from you.

You want to give him everything your body can give and then some. This is only going to be sex anyway, so why not make the most of it. It’s a night that you dream about when touching yourself and maybe tell some trusted friends about a wild night you had at your dealers.

Your cunt spasms on Toji’s tongue, your thighs trembling. Your cumming too quickly, the intensity of it washing over you before you can realizing how close you are.

The pink hair one stripping himself of his gym shorts. Walking up next to Toji, grabbing your hair, yanking you forward toward his cock. Prompting Toji to pull away and glare up him. Your slick dripping down his chin.

He stands up grumbling, “Sukana you fuckin' asshole lemme me move.” Whilst pushing his sweatpants below his balls. Beautiful, thick heavy balls full of cum you wanting fucked into your cunt by his friends.

Cocking the gun, pointing it at your head whilst saying, “You heard her, she wants to be bullied why not give the slut what she wants.” Sukuna picks up where Toji left off,

“See how much she can take before she's a cock drunken whore with not a single thought behind her pretty eyes.” Your eyes widen, your mouth watering. His cock is beautiful with the tattoos on the side and the three barbells beneath his tan-pink head. They would feel so good inside you, rubbing your sweet spot.

He’s longer than Toji, but thinner, with more veins. Whilst the skin on Toji’s cock is smoother. Toji is pale with a soft pink hue at the base of his cock. He is dripping so much thick pre-cum. You can't pick who had the better-looking cock. Or balls.

The last unnamed guy points out, “If we start off too harsh too quickly she might bolt. But if we ease her into it before she knows it she’s taking everything we give without a thought like a good whore.” He slips his shirt off, making quick work of his jeans and underwear. Taking up the seat next to you.

"I'm Suguru, tonight we’ll see if you can keep up with us and be the new group slut. Hold your arms up." You do as told, Toji pulls the gun away for Satoru and Suguru to slip your shirt off together. Whilst Satoru croons,

"Good girl. Did you come dressed up hoping to catch Toji’s attention? With a mini skirt that barely covers your sexy ass." The moment Suguru tosses your shirt to the side Toji holds his gun in front of your lips.

Licking Toji’s gun clean. Toji praises you, “Good girl didn’t have to say shit. I knew you’d be the perfect whore for us. The way you looked at me I could tell you were a freaky little slut.” Grabbing a handful of your hair guiding you to Sukuna's and his cock.

Taking Sukuna's first, swirling your tongue around him. The strange yet pleasurable feeling of his barbells on your tongue. Bobbing your head, taking him deep into your throat, groaning happily.

Slipping Sukuna's cock out with a pop, switching to Toji's. Whilst Satoru grabs your hand and spits in your palm. Wrapping your hand around his cock, guiding your fist. Satoru moans are so beautiful, and breathy.

“Your hand is so damn soft.” Pumping your hand at a quicker pace, Satoru lets your go, letting you take the lead. Rutting his hips up, “That’s it, jerk my pretty cock off. You can drink the cum after as a reward.” You reach over and fondle Suguru's heavy balls. His fat cock resting on top of your hand.

Gliding Toji’s cock out of your mouth, “Please, want every hole filled with cum. Let me be your favorite cum slut, want all of you to use my holes like a flesh light.” Kissing Toji’s balls, his fat cock on your face smearing your spit. Switching to Sukuna balls, sucking one into your mouth gently. Letting him go and taking Toji’s cock into your mouth.

Toji presses your head down not letting you pull away. He sets a quick past whilst Sukuna strokes his cock. The slick sounds of his hand sliding along his cock and his groans pushing you closer to cumming.

Sukuna follows Satoru's line of teasing with, "Did you plan to bend over in front of him and show him your pretty panties in hopes he would use your cunt as a fleshlight?" Toji's lets up, gliding his cock out, looking up at him.

"He took his sweet ass time catching on." Kissing Sukuna's cock as he pauses stoking himself. Holding his heavy cock up for your to kiss his head. Licking the pre-cum off him, then taking Toji's cock into your mouth. Sucking whilst pulling away, your cheeks hallowing in. Whilst Toji groans.

You spit on your other hand and smear it on Suguru's cock. Whilst pointing out, "I've been here twice already, and both times you were serving manwhore along with your drugs." Toji's smirk widens showing a sharp tooth on the right side of his mouth.

He fires back, "Say the one about to serve cunt to four guys." Suguru swipes two fingers between your legs. You're already too close to Satoru playing with your clit. You’re squirting from the anticipation of Suguru finger fucking you whilst he traces your dripping cunt.

Satoru suggests, "Let's take her to the playroom. It will be easier to stuff all three of her holes." Your pussy juices soaking into Toji’s sofa.

strawberry brat

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littleplantfreak · 1 month

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Happy 100 followers!! For the request event, can I request the prompt "Bringing their bento to them at work when they forgot it at home?" As for the characters, I'll make that a dealer's choice! Pick between any 4-5 characters you like!

Hi foxx!!!! I kinda mixed it up a bit so they didn't sound to repetitive, but I hope you like them :D

I chose Sako, Hiragi, Suo, and Choji since I don't give them enough love.

Sako Kota

"Fujiwara, I need at least a draft of the contract by 2:00PM today or we'll have to cancel the meeting at 4:00PM." Sako sighs, his arms crossed as he looks at the paralegal, pushing down his irritation enough that he won't snap, although Sako's icy expression is more than enough to send the other man on his way in a frantic attempt to correct his mistake.

Sitting down at his desk, he checks the clock and sees it's about lunchtime. It gives the paralegal time to get the appropriate documents together, and he would never fess up to it, but he does tend to get prickly if he hasn't eaten in a while. He never fails to perk up when you make him food, and today is no different. You both usually make your lunches together, but work ran late for him yesterday, and he never got the chance. The guilt he felt was quickly wiped away when he came home to your sleepy face waiting up for him on the couch.

"Welcome home," You'd said sweetly before shuffling towards him in your slippers and pressing a kiss to his lips. "I already made us lunch, so don't worry about it and come cuddle with me, please?" The way you helped him with his coat and tugged the wrist of his shirt, leading him to your bedroom, had his shoulders relaxing and the stress bleeding out of him slow but steady. He didn't even think to check the fridge the morning after, having slept past his first alarm due to his fatigue.

Which leaves him here now, sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, wondering if he's got enough time to order from one of the food places on his block and get back in time to read what will hopefully be a wonderful contract that he has to do very little editing on.

His text tone goes off, the little chime specifically chosen by you when you two first started dating.

[Look out your window, please owo)/*!]

A quick spin of his office chair has him looking down at you from the second floor. Not even bothering with his phone, he's walking down to meet you. Before he can even open his mouth, you blurt out something first.

"I didn't wanna bother you, but I realized I forgot to put it on the counter this morning," A bashful smile playing on your lips, as you try to collect yourself a bit. Sako's oncoming headache that was building up suddenly stopped like a TV being flipped off by a remote. The bento wrapped neatly in your outstretched hand felt more like treasure than lunch as he takes on the weight of it, two of his fingers slipping through the tied fabric before he settles his other hand under it for stability.

"It's not a bother; you know you can come visit whenever you want." He says, but seeing your eyebrows knit together, he's sure you're still worried about it. He places a swift kiss right where the wrinkle's formed, and he brushes it smooth with a soft swipe of his thumb before stepping back a bit, cheeks starting to heat a bit. "If you have time...we can share it in my office before lunch ends?" He says, though the end sounds more question than statement.

"I'd like that a lot," you laugh, showing him your matching box, nestled in your backpack. He doesn't spare a glance at Fujiwara, but as he walks by with you, he tells him to take his time with the draft and go for lunch. His own is going to be a little longer today.

Hiragi Toma

The hours the boxing gym Hiragi owns are later than normal. He likes being able to run his errands in the morning, and then get to the gym by 11:00 where someone will always be waiting to come in regardless of the weather. Unlocking the door, he's greeted with the sight of his lunch on the counter, and he wonders briefly if he forgot to bring it home yesterday to be cleaned, settling the keys on the ring behind his desk and walking over to it.

"Did you miss me?" You ask, poking your fingers in each side of his waist, laughing as he jerks away with a jesus christ and a groan. His arms crossed around his torso, still hiding where you've stabbed at him just in case you try for a second attack. His eyes full of betrayal at you have you gasping for breath. He forgot he gave you the spare key in case he ever needed you to open for him, which he guesses is his own fault for not considering you might use it for evil.

"You're a menace," He's grumbling, straightening up to full height.

"Yeah, but you love this menace," Your voice singsongs before adding, "this menace also brought the bento you forgot this morning, so don't you think I deserve a reward?" The cheshire grin on your face has him shuddering at what you might want your reward to be.

He's heaving out a sigh, and before he knows it, "What do you want?" comes out a bit harsher than he meant it to.

"Rude way to ask, but Ume and his girlfriend are planning a camping trip..." You trail off, already batting your lashes at him, knowing he's getting the best angle for your puppy dog eyes, though he's pretty much used to them by now. You can see the gears shifting as he thinks while he cups the back of your head and just...takes you in. Either the eyes worked wonders or he's feeling needy today, because you usually only get those eyes when you're at home.

"'s been a while since we've taken a trip, huh?" He asks, smoothing your hair down, waiting on your answer.

"Yeah...I guess it has." You say, seriously now that you're matching his energy. The last trip you both took together was months ago; both of you just got busier with work, and never planned another one. Hiragi thinks it's about time to rectify that.

"I heard one of our bands is playing in the town over next month. I'll grab tickets for it later, and," He pauses for a second to hang his head, "you can tell Umemiya's girlfriend we'll go on the camping trip too." The look lighting up on your face has him almost feeling okay, though the thought of spending a trip with Ume has his stomach tying little knots.

"Oh my god I love you so much! Enjoy your lunch. I'd eat with you, but I've got a camping brunch to attend." Tiptoeing up to kiss him proves quite easy when he's actually leaning down for you instead of teasing and saying you've gotta work harder for it. The way his hand grabs at your hip, thumb digging in slightly, tells you how appreciative he'll be for you bringing him food later tonight.

Parting from you takes more willpower than he'd thought, but he catches the mailman coming through the door in his peripheral and knows he'll only stand there gawking if Hiragi doesn't grab the mail from him. He notes how you've waited till the day of this so-called camping brunch to attack him and nearly huffs a laugh at your strategy, knowing he would've bent either way. He watches you practically skip out, turning back to wave, before walking out the door. Mail thrown on the counter, he decides his best bet is to eat while it's still quiet, knowing later in the day he'll be too busy. Maybe he'll shoot a text to Umemiya thanking him for the invite, too. Maybe.

Suo Hayato

Your phone rings as you're on the train, and you look around you before answering it, making sure to speak softly so as not to bother anyone.

"Did you forget something this morning?" Suo's voice asks coolly from the other line. You tilt your head a bit confused at the question, and he laughs. "You look like a puppy when you do that head tilt," and you huff, looking around to make sure he's not actually on the train with you.

"I hate when you do that," you pout, leaning into the speaker to hear him better. "I have my purse. My keys...I kissed you twice before I left...can I have a hint?" The hand that runs through your hair pushes it back in exasperation.

"Last time you forgot this at home, you cried in the bathroom at work." A jolt goes through you, followed by a sheepish chuckle on your end. He knows just how much you value the lunches he makes you every day, and that day had been especially stressful, building up until your forgotten lunch was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. "Your train arrives in about...8 minutes right?" he hums as if to check the clock. "I'll be at the station when you get there."

"Hayato darling...it's snowing," It's not enough to delay the trains, but it certainly isn't warm out either. The concern in your voice is apparent, and that warms him more than anything else.

"I'll make sure to warm myself up when you get here," he teases, knowing you'll understand just how he intends to warm himself up.

"Wha- fine! If you get sick, I'm calling off to take care of you this time, though." You grumble before saying your goodbyes and hanging up. He's not particularly delicate, but the last time he was sick, he insisted he was fine until you found him face first on the living room floor with an insanely high fever.

The way the cold causes his cheeks to bleed rose-red is the exact same as that time, though you can see the clarity in his eye where there hadn't been when he was swaddled up to his chin being fed soup for three days. He's holding an umbrella, his long scarf wrapped stylishly around his neck.

"Can't have you going hungry, love." Smiling, he passes your lunch over to you before stepping closer into your space, bringing you undercover of his umbrella. "Mind if I escort you to work? I have a few errands to run, so I'll take my leave from there," he says, allowing you to wrap your arm around his own. It looks like a formal way to walk with a lover, but it gives you both enough flexibility to shift here and there, looking at storefronts or the snowflakes feathering down to the ground.

You grab his hand and kiss it before he does it to you, catching him off guard for a moment before his sly smile mirrors your own. "Pretty bold of you. Is this my thanks for bringing lunch?"

"Part of it, but really I just wanted to try it. You're always doing it to me, so I wanted to see if it made your heart flutter like it does mine." Oh, there's that blatant honesty he loves so much that he'd kiss you breathless right now if he could. He's a gentleman, though, so he opts to mimic your earlier move, watching your expression change to the sweet little fluster he's used to, even though you knew he'd do it. He knows when you dig in later, you'll also make that cute face that comes every time you eat his cooking, and he can't wait to be able to see it later tonight during dinner.

Choji Tomiyama

Choji's sleep schedule is screwed. Bar tending most nights would normally be rough on a person, but he can sleep pretty much anywhere and everywhere. Your sleep schedule is only screwed every so often when you get the urge to wait up for him. His meals are kind of everywhere too, since he wants breakfast when he wakes up in the afternoon, and then has his 'lunch' right before work.

Dinner comes around 8:00 or 9:00PM, and usually he'll just order something from the kitchen before it closes, but Togame brought over leftovers earlier that you knew Choji would love. Togame would've taken it himself, had he not had a women's self defense class to teach around the time Choji would normally eat.

So here you are, wading through people laughing and pool bets being made to your left. The bar is full of people, and it's not even a weekend. You never have trouble finding your boyfriend, though, because he's always got a crowd around him. When he first started, it was a part-time thing. Something to try while he figured out what he wanted to do as a real job. But once he got the drinks down, he started making his own, and with that came a trick or two. Leading up to the present, he's doing one of his easier tricks, flipping and spinning his tumbler with a shot or two of vodka in it around his back as the crowd of already tipsy people cheer. He makes excellent tips, and is content doing this full time for the foreseeable future. You figure you can always leave his dinner to one of his less busy coworkers, but a flash of blonde in the corner of your eye darting towards you has you bracing your leg behind you waiting for impact.

Impact is quite the word for the way his body veers towards you latching on with a big oof coming from your chest as your arms wrap around him. His pretty eyes lock on to you, and he's never been happier. Usually you don't come visit because of how loud and chaotic it can get, but when you do, his energy doesn't wane for the rest of the night. The containers you're carrying in your hand register to him immediately.

"Did you eat yet?" you half-yell over the music and laughter, and he shakes his head.

"There was a bachelor party who took up most of the bar until about half an hour ago, so I didn't get to put an order in."

"Good thing Togame made extra, huh?" you grin, seeing that he knows it's his favorite dish. You've tried replicating it, and while it tastes great when you make it, Togame must have a secret to making it just that much better. You agree wholeheartedly, not competitive in the slightest when he's been nothing but wonderful to both you and Choji. Handing it over, he gives you a big wet kiss on the cheek and then goes back for the other one, longer than the first.

"I'm glad you came, even if it's just to bring me food. I missed you yesterday when you went shopping, and I couldn't see you before work," and the little hold he's got at the bottom of your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, has your heart doing loops in your throat.

"I guess I can stay for a few, if there's an empty stool somewhere near you..." you say trailing off when a quick peek shows every seat taken.

"Not a problem," He grins, grabbing a chair from the back and putting it close behind the bar where he works. You think you'll be in his way, but he actually works around you just fine, asking if you'll feed him whenever he makes a drink for someone. A mouthful of food and a swipe of a wet cloth across his face keeps his hands free enough to keep working while also getting his dinner in.

By the end of the night, he's actually allowed to leave early, and you walk home swinging your entwined hands as he's telling you about all the interesting patrons he's met before you showed up earlier. There's no better way you'd want to spend your night.

#mari writes #wind breaker x reader #sako kota x reader #hiragi toma x reader #suo hayato x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #ough its 1:30 sorry if there's typos or grammar #i tried to edit it but im sooo eepy #i forget if i said sako's a lawyer in this #and suo's a househusband #cause i keep hearing yakuza suo and im like....#way of the house husband au for suo when #oh sorry if they're ooc like i said i dont write them much...

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

Text

Amazon Alexa is a graduate of the Darth Vader MBA

Next Tuesday (Oct 31) at 10hPT, the Internet Archive is livestreaming my presentation on my recent book, The Internet Con.

If you own an Alexa, you might enjoy its integration with IFTTT, an easy scripting environment that lets you create your own little voice-controlled apps, like "start my Roomba" or "close the garage door." If so, tough shit, Amazon just nuked IFTTT for Alexa:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/10/25/23931463/ifttt-amazon-alexa-applets-ending-support-integration-automation

Amazon can do this because the Alexa's operating system sits behind a cryptographic lock, and any tool that bypasses that lock is a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA, punishable by a 5-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine. That means that it's literally a crime to provide a rival OS that lets users retain functionality that Amazon no longer supports.

This is the proverbial gun on the mantelpiece, a moral hazard and invitation to mischief that tempts Amazon executives to run a bait-and-switch con where they sell you a gadget with five features and then remotely kill-switch two of them. This is prime directive of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further."

So many companies got their business-plan at the Darth Vader MBA. The ability to revoke features after the fact means that companies can fuck around, but never find out. Apple sold millions of tracks via iTunes with the promise of letting you stream them to any other device you owned. After a couple years of this, the company caught some heat from the record labels, so they just pushed an update that killed the feature:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/10/30/apple-to-ipod-owners-eat-shit-and-die-updated/

That gun on the mantelpiece went off all the way back in 2004 and it turns out it was a starter-pistol. Pretty soon, everyone was getting in on the act. If you find an alert on your printer screen demanding that you install a "security update" there's a damned good chance that the "update" is designed to block you from using third-party ink cartridges in a printer that you (sorta) own:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Selling your Tesla? Have fun being poor. The upgrades you spent thousands of dollars on go up in a puff of smoke the minute you trade the car into the dealer, annihilating the resale value of your car at the speed of light:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/23/how-to-fix-cars-by-breaking-felony-contempt-of-business-model/

Telsa has to detect the ownership transfer first. But once a product is sufficiently cloud-based, they can destroy your property from a distance without any warning or intervention on your part. That's what Adobe did last year, when it literally stole the colors from your Photoshop files, in history's SaaSiest heist caper:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

And yet, when we hear about remote killswitches in the news, it's most often as part of a PR blitz for their virtues. Russia's invasion of Ukraine kicked off a new genre of these PR pieces, celebrating the fact that a John Deere dealership was able to remotely brick looted tractors that had been removed to Chechnya:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

Today, Deere's PR minions are pitching search-and-replace versions of this story about Israeli tractors that Hamas is said to have looted, which were also remotely bricked.

But the main use of this remote killswitch isn't confounding war-looters: it's preventing farmers from fixing their own tractors without paying rent to John Deere. An even bigger omission from this narrative is the fact that John Deere is objectively Very Bad At Security, which means that the world's fleet of critical agricultural equipment is one breach away from being rendered permanently inert:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#deere-john

There are plenty of good and honorable people working at big companies, from Adobe to Apple to Deere to Tesla to Amazon. But those people have to convince their colleagues that they should do the right thing. Those debates weigh the expected gains from scammy, immoral behavior against the expected costs.

Without DMCA 1201, Amazon would have to worry that their decision to revoke IFTTT functionality would motivate customers to seek out alternative software for their Alexas. This is a big deal: once a customer learns how to de-Amazon their Alexa, Amazon might never recapture that customer. Such a switch wouldn't have to come from a scrappy startup or a hacker's DIY solution, either. Take away DMCA 1201 and Walmart could step up, offering an alternative Alexa software stack that let you switch your purchases away from Amazon.

Money talks, bullshit walks. In any boardroom argument about whether to shift value away from customers to the company, a credible argument about how the company will suffer a net loss as a result has a better chance of prevailing than an argument that's just about the ethics of such a course of action:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

Inevitably, these killswitches are pitched as a paternalistic tool for protecting customers. An HP rep once told me that they push deceptive security updates to brick third-party ink cartridges so that printer owners aren't tricked into printing out cherished family photos with ink that fades over time. Apple insists that its ability to push iOS updates that revoke functionality is about keeping mobile users safe – not monopolizing repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

John Deere's killswitches protect you from looters. Adobe's killswitches let them add valuable functionality to their products. Tesla? Well, Tesla at least is refreshingly honest: "We have a killswitch because fuck you, that's why."

These excuses ring hollow because they conspicuously omit the possibility that you could have the benefits without the harms. Like, your tractor could come with a killswitch that you could bypass, meaning you could brick it at a distance, and still fix it yourself. Same with your phone. Software updates that take away functionality you want can be mitigated with the ability to roll back those updates – and by giving users the ability to apply part of a patch, but not the whole patch.

Cloud computing and software as a service are a choice. "Local first" computing is possible, and desirable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

The cheapest rhetorical trick of the tech sector is the "indivisibility gambit" – the idea that these prix-fixe menus could never be served a la carte. Wanna talk to your friends online? Sorry there's just no way to help you do that without spying on you:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/08/divisibility/#technognosticism

One important argument over smart-speakers was poisoned by this false dichotomy: the debate about accessibility and IoT gadgets. Every IoT privacy or revocation scandal would provoke blanket statements from technically savvy people like, "No one should ever use one of these." The replies would then swiftly follow: "That's an ableist statement: I rely on my automation because I have a disability and I would otherwise be reliant on a caregiver or have to go without."

But the excluded middle here is: "No one should use one of these because they are killswitched. This is especially bad when a smart speaker is an assistive technology, because those applications are too important to leave up to the whims of giant companies that might brick them or revoke their features due to their own commercial imperatives, callousness, or financial straits."

Like the problem with the "bionic eyes" that Second Sight bricked wasn't that they helped visually impaired people see – it was that they couldn't be operated without the company's ongoing support and consent:

https://spectrum.ieee.org/bionic-eye-obsolete

It's perfectly possible to imagine a bionic eye whose software can be maintained by third parties, whose parts and schematics are widely available. The challenge of making this assistive technology fail gracefully isn't technical – it's commercial.

We're meant to believe that no bionic eye company could survive unless they devise their assistive technology such that it fails catastrophically if the business goes under. But it turns out that a bionic eye company can't survive even if they are allowed to do this.

Even if you believe Milton Friedman's Big Lie that a company is legally obligated to "maximize shareholder value," not even Friedman says that you are legally obligated to maximize companies' shareholder value. The fact that a company can make more money by defrauding you by revoking or bricking the things you buy from them doesn't oblige you to stand up for their right to do this.

Indeed, all of this conduct is arguably illegal, under Section 5 of the FTC Act, which prohibits "unfair and deceptive business practices":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

"No one should ever use a smart speaker" lacks nuance. "Anyone who uses a smart speaker should be insulated from unilateral revocations by the manufacturer, both through legal restrictions that bind the manufacturer, and legal rights that empower others to modify our devices to help us," is a much better formulation.

It's only in the land of the Darth Vader MBA that the deal is "take it or leave it." In a good world, we should be able to take the parts that work, and throw away the parts that don't.

(Image: Stock Catalog/https://www.quotecatalog.com, Sam Howzit; CC BY 2.0; modified)

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

#pluralistic #alexa #ifttt #criptech #disability #drm #revocation #nothing about us without us #futureproofing #graceful failure #darth vader MBA #enshittification

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covetyou · 11 months

Text

honey, you're familiar

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Tess Servopoulos x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con, oral (f receiving), fingering, readers first time with another woman, one use of good girl, drug reference. word count: 3.3k summary: The first time your father struggles to afford his pills you figure you'll do what you can to help. All you need to do is find his dealer and talk to him, right? How difficult could a man like that be to find.

A/N: we needed more time with Anna Torv Tess. Like, a whole series more time.

prequel to something wretched about this. can be read as a stand-alone.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

divider by @saradika

Now's your chance. Probably fucking stupid really, pulling a stunt like this on a woman like her, but you don't know how else to reach her, where else to go. This is the best option you have. So you grab her arm.

Your fingers have barely clasped around her jacket when she's twisting, hand raised ready to back-hand whoever dared to grab her. You flinch back, waiting for the sting of pain across your cheek, but instead she hesitates, stopping herself from striking you.

Her face pinches into a confused frown, and she wrenches your hand from her arm, throwing it away from her like you're some dirty, filthy thing, and stalks off before you can say anything.

"Please..." you start, chasing after her, not even trying to be discreet. She rounds an alleyway, and suddenly she's grabbing you, dragging and pulling you down the street, away from prying eyes, up some stairs into what you thought was an abandoned apartment block and pushing you against a wall.

"The fuck do you want."

"I'm sorry for grabbing you, I am, I just need information and your name is the only one I have and I-"

"Who the fuck is giving you my name and what for," her hand raises again, and this time you think she might really do it.

"My dad! My dad, he's sick, he has a dealer who helps him, I just need his name, I need to go see him, dad's got bad again and I-"

She backs away from you to lean on the wall opposite as you speak, shaking her head at your rambling. You're clearly already giving her a fucking headache, and she pinches her nose and raises a palm to stop you. "Slow the fuck down."

"My dad is sick."

"I know who your daddy is, you don't need to tell me he's sick, I know. What I'm wondering is why his daughter is snooping around, grabbing people, asking for names she apparently doesn't know."

"I just need to know who his dealer is. We can't pay for the pills this month and I thought maybe if I spoke to him I could..." You trail off. You both knew just speaking to whoever your dads dealer was wouldn't be the end of it, it never was. The dream was you'd asked nicely and be given what you asked for, but the reality was you probably wouldn't get it without giving something first.

"And you got my name how?"

"My dad mentioned... you?"

"Right," she says, biting back a laugh, before pushing herself away from the wall she'd been leaning on and clapping her hands. "Well, you're in luck. I'm feeling generous, and I think I can point you in the right direction. Come with me."

You follow, like a dog on a bitch in heat, practically running after her as she strides down the hallway, yanking open a door and pushing you inside. She doesn't bother to look around, knowing full well the building is cold and abandoned for a reason.

You walk further into the room as she enters behind you. There's an old desk and chair on one side, and scraps of wood, old broken furniture and stacks of chairs littered around the edges, pushed against the walls. Once upon a time it would have been a make shift office space, but now it was nothing better than a grimy, long forgotten storage room.

You turn just in time to see her propping a chair under the door handle. You stare at it as she walks past you, taking a seat at the desk. Raising a heavy booted foot up on the worn wooden edge and clasping her hands together, she looks at you with a gleam in her eyes, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair.

"So," she begins with a smirk, as a thread of realization starts to crawl up your spine. "How can I help you?"

Shit. Shit. Your dad didn't give her name because she was a friend, she was his fucking dealer. If he'd been honest with you, told you when you asked who was helping him instead of being so cagey about it, this never would have happened. You wouldn't be stuck in this room with Tess, skirting around the fact you definitely were not willing to offer your body in exchange for your fathers medication.

You quickly realize there is no way to recover from this, no way to back track or back out now. She's going to give you shit for this, you just know it, and you're going to be sent out of here humiliated and with nothing to show for it. You might have even ruined it all for your dad. The thought makes your head swim and bile rise in your throat.

You gape at her for a while and she stares back, challenging you to say something, anything, to her.

"Look," you start, trying to laugh it off, lighten the mood. "I think I've got things mixed up, so I'll just -"

"So you'll what?" she laughs cruelly. "You thought you could come find his dealer, drop to your knees, suck a dick, and get your daddies pills for free."

"I didn't - I never -"

"Do it then," she says from her seat. "Get on your knees."

You stop and start a few times, but no words come to mind. There is no way out of this. So, you slowly sink to your knees in the middle of the dusty room. You're going to get those pills.

As your knees bite into the grit on the floor you watch as her head tips to rest on the back of the chair and her shoulders softly shake, her laughter filling the room.

"Cute," she says, looking back at you, leaning forward and beckoning you toward her with two fingers. "Come here, pretty girl," she croons. "And I don't remember saying you could stand up."

You shuffle over to her on your knees, trying to keep your balance so your hands don't touch the gritty floor.

"You're going to do something for me, and then I'm going to do something for you, okay?"

"Okay," you nod in agreement, unable to make eye contact with her. That is what you came out today for after all, though you can't say the change in anatomy was expected.

"And then when you leave here, you keep your mouth shut, are we clear?"

You bite down on your lips and nod at her from the floor, looking every bit as pathetic as you feel. None of this is going how you'd planned, and you're not sure if that's for better or for worse.

"Ever eaten pussy," she asks, pulling her jacket from around her. You look up at her and shake your head, feeling impossibly small as you sink even further down on your knees. You hadn't, but had thought about it, wanted it, just never found a person to do it with, and certainly never expected to be doing it now.

"Well then, sweetie, you better be a quick learner."

She unzips her pants and pulls them under her ass, yanking them to her knees. It's all so quick you don't have time to register what's going on until her hand is on you.

"Come here," she grabs at your arm, pulling you closer as she kicks her pants to her ankles and slides back in the chair. She yanks you forward, lifts her legs over your head and pulls you in toward her with the fabric caught around her ankles. You're caged in now, trapped between her pants and her cunt, and you are totally, utterly, stunned.

"Don't, wouldn't... wouldn't a... man be better?" you stutter, trying to keep your eyes on hers and not between her legs. It's a stupid question, you know it, but you're nervous and stalling for more time doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

"If I wanted a man, I would get a man. More trouble than they're worth most of the time. You gonna try to stick your dick in me, pretty girl?"

She grabs your chin, and when you don't answer she clicks her tongue at you, pulling your face down between her legs.

"Didn't think so."

You finally look down between her soft thighs. You hadn't seen if she was wearing panties, for all you knew she was going commando under her jeans, but now here she was completely bare before you. Seeing another woman like this was strange, but not unwelcome. If you'd had more time, and the circumstances had been a bit different, you would have liked to have spent more time just looking at her. You'd never seen one up close before, only glimpsing your own as you looked down your body. Given the chance you know you would spend hours here between her legs just looking, exploring.

But that wasn't what this was, and as beautiful as Tess was, this was business.

You cast one last tentative look up as you slowly lower your face to her cunt, catching her eyes as she looks down expectantly at you.

You press your lips to her inner thigh as she watches, kissing as close to her center as you can be without touching, and let out a shaky breath. That's the first hurdle dealt with, but nerves still bubble in your belly. You kiss her soft skin once more, nosing at the sensitive flesh and breathing in her heady scent.

"Mm. Well, shit, that feels nice," she sighs, letting her head fall back and closing her eyes. You do it again, spurred on by her approval and the growing wetness between your own legs, feathering kisses all around the outside of her cunt, chaining them together so eventually you're mouthing around her delicate skin. You let your tongue peak out as your lips meander across her flesh, leaving wet trails in your wake as you move.

You psych yourself up, just go for it, taste her, do it, she wants it, what could go wrong, before you finally take the dive and lick a delicate strip through her folds. She tastes similar to you, but not quite. You give her another gentle lick, your wet tongue curiously lapping at her entrance before you move up, up, up, and press a soft kiss to her clit. Her entire body relaxes and shifts down in the chair, her legs spreading further over the arms, giving you more access and her tangled feet pushing into your back to pull you in closer.

You kiss it again, and again, before you let your tongue slip out to lap softly at the sensitive nub, licking upwards in slow strokes and dragging your bottom lip across it. You suckle on her clit for a little before releasing, wishing desperately now that you had something between your own legs too.

Feeling bolder, you lick a broader stripe across her cunt, your breath getting caught in your throat, and coming out as a small moan. Tess's sigh in response is all you need to start devouring her, dipping your tongue into her slick hole. You let your hand come up to pull her apart, making it easier for you to lap at her folds. You know your actions are unrefined, messy, but as she starts to moan above you you don't care. You feel as lost in it as she is, imagining how this would feel. A soft face and delicate fingers between your thighs. Gentle, feminine moans dancing softly across your pussy. You groan into her wet heat at the thought, rocking your hips into the empty air in an effort to chase some kind of relief.

"Keep moaning all pretty like that and anyone would think you like eating pussy."

Your eyes catch hers, dark and fiery, staring down at you. You want to tell her you do like it, you'd dreamed of it, wanted to do it so many times before but never had the chance. The most you'd ever done with a woman involved gentle kisses and light touches - thrilling at the time, but nothing compared to being between another woman's thighs. You don't dare take your mouth off of her to tell her any of it, so you moan again mumble a mhm into her, bringing your other hand to her thigh to grip as you do.

You let your grip anchor you down, slow your movements. The few times a man had bothered doing this to you, their rapid sloppy movements felt good, but not enough. Of all the times you'd gotten yourself off, you needed precision and repetition to get there, and now that you'd had a taste and indulged your own desires, you wanted to give Tess what she wanted, what you'd agreed to. You wanted to make her come.

Your fingers stroke at her pussy, and you bring your mouth back to her clit, licking and sucking once again. Your circle it gently, all around and then gently spiralling in to the center. You stay there, keeping your tongue circling in small, soft, circles feeling as her thigh begins to quiver beneath your hand.

"That's it," she sighs, and you preen at the praise, moaning into her clit to let her know you'll keep going, won't stop until she says otherwise.

It's not long before her hand comes to your face, stroking your cheekbone. She pulls you back, unlatching you from her clit. Swallowing and licking your lips for remnants of her, you look up in confusion.

"Give me your fingers now, pretty girl. Put them in."

Oh. Right. Of course. You let go of her thigh and trace your fingers around her entrance, watching in amazement as you circle them in her wetness. Your body looked like this too, got wet just like she did. You tease at her opening for a moment, knowing how good it felt for yourself when you tickled yourself like this, before you slip one in just a fraction, wiggling it slightly as you tease her. A second finger joins the first, and you're soon pushing two small fingers into her cunt.

She feels different to you inside. You'd never even considered it, that any would feel anything other than like yours, but when you push your fingers into her, the ridges and smooth surfaces you were expecting aren't where you thought they'd be. The familiarity was there, but you didn't know hers like you knew yours.

Her eyes are closed again when you next look up, pumping your fingers slowly into her. You bring your face back down to her clit, keeping your eyes locked on her face as you latch back over the sensitive spot and suck. She gasps, her feet clamping down on your back even firmer pushing your face straight into her cunt. You start to lick at her, going back to soft circles around her clit as your fingers pump shallowly in her wet pussy.

You don't relent this time, and she doesn't drag you back. Instead, her hand finds its way to the back of your head, holding you in place as you suckle on her clit and finger her cunt in tandem, bringing her closer and closer to climax. The muscles inside her soon start to clench, her clit start to twitch in your mouth.

You're eager now, as if you weren't before, letting your circles on her clit become firmer as you moan wantonly into her folds. You're breathing deep through your nose, mouth engulfing her cunt, devouring her with each stroke of your tongue.

Her own moans are softer, less desperate, than your own. But then her hips start to rock into your mouth, and you know she's close. You don't change a thing, keeping the movement of your fingers and your tongue the same as she rocks against your mouth, using you to get herself off.

"Yes, yes, yes," she whispers through soft moans. "That's it, pretty girl. Good girl. Fuck, yes. Yes."

The pumping of your fingers gets impossible as her whole body stiffens, pussy gripping your fingers in tight spasms as she comes, hips gyrating into your face faster until her legs are clamping around your ears. You keep going, suckling at her clit with your fingers buried in her cunt until her hips are trying to move away from you, to get away from the oversensitivity brought on by your mouth.

"Ohh."

You pull back from her pussy, gasping for air, and looking up at her once again as your fingers still inside her. The furrow between her brows has relaxed, and even in the dull light of the room she looks beautiful, peaceful.

"Good job," she murmurs, patting the side of your cheek. She pulls your cream covered fingers out from inside her, pushing them toward your mouth. You slide them between your lips, cleaning off her cum as she watches. Just like the ones before it, you can't help the moan that falls from your lips as you taste her.

A moment later, she's lifting her legs up onto the table and motioning for you to move. You shuffle out from between them, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you try to ignore the throbbing of your own pussy. That was it then. You'd done it. Why were you disappointed it was over?

You stand and brush the dust off your knees with your dry hand as she pulls her pants back up and zips them up. You don't look at her, you don't want to be caught watching, so you trace the path of a dust mote dancing in a sunbeam that has broken through an old board on the window.

"Definitely a quick learner," she says, walking toward you. If she knows how wet eating her pussy had made you, she doesn't let on.

Her cheeks are flushed a deeper shade of pink than when she'd first dragged you in here. You briefly wonder if you walked out of here together, maybe people would know what you'd been up to. But, her soft face and relaxed features don't last long, and she slips the mask back on, brows furrowing at you as she moves the chair from under the door handle.

"Not that I think you'll tell anyone you had your face buried in someone's cunt, but if you do, your daddy will be going cold turkey. I don't do this, we clear? Even for pretty girls like you," she says, depositing a small bag of pills into your hand. "Now, get going."

You grip the bag in your damp fingers as you walk home, hoping it'll all be enough to get your father through another few weeks in the QZ.

It took a few days for your dad to get back on his feet again, but once he started there was no stopping him. He never asked you about the pills, and you never told him. It seemed both of you could be cagey when you wanted to be. You also knew that if he needed it, you'd go do it again in a heartbeat.

Collection day comes and goes, and he's strolling in the door, depositing a small container of pills onto your dining table as you pull together a meager dinner.

"Shame to see her go," he says with a soft smile, patting your shoulder in his usual greeting.

You stop in your tracks. "Who?" You'd lost a lot of people over the years, and it was never good news when it happened.

"Tess. She's stopping dealing with that side of the business," he says, pointing to the pills on the table. "Said she'd pass me over to her 'business associate'. I'm meeting with him next Thursday. Nothing should change, but we'll see how it goes."

"'Business associate'?"

He's already grabbed some food, stuffing it into his mouth in a big bite before he answers. "Joel Miller."

Fuck.

Tag List: given it's not the usual p-boy content I haven't tagged any of you this week.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x f!reader #tess servopoulos x you #tess x reader #tess x f!reader #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

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anonymous-dentist · 1 year

Note

o7 whatever u say boss

dealers choice? or just spiderbit being disgustingly cute?

Spider-Man is an enigma.

Reportedly, he was bitten by a “radioactive spider” when he was a teenager and that’s how he got his start in the heroing business.

Cellbit thinks that’s bullshit. There’s no such thing as a “radioactive spider”. And, even if there was, Spider-Man would’ve died from radiation poisoning; genetic mutation does not work like that, Cellbit knows firsthand just how it works, and it’s not like that. It’s a lot more painful and a lot less flashy.

Spider-Man is a mystery. Nobody knows who he is despite him being an active vigilante for almost a decade. He gives a different backstory to every newspaper interviewing him. He’s a puzzle, and Cellbit is going to solve him.

But first, Cellbit needs dinner. Then he can obsess.

The line at the deli is long enough to wrap around the block. Cellbit’s lucky enough to have gotten in it before it had gotten too long, but he still has at least another fifteen minutes to wait before he can get his goddamn sandwich and leave. He just wants a sandwich. A goddamn sandwich.

A car explodes in the distance. Cellbit can hear it, and he can hear the car alarm, and he can hear another explosion and a very French-sounding cackle. That’ll be Métal Noir, then- the most competent hero on the Federation’s payroll.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. Everyone in line mutters amongst themselves, slightly-but-not-really concerned. The man in line in front of Cellbit tenses, his shoulders hiking and his head snapping towards the noise.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Cellbit says.

The man hums curiously and glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

He has AirPods in, but he takes one out and asks, “What was that?”

“The explosion. I wouldn’t worry about it. Métal Noir has it covered, listen.”

He raises a bored finger and, as if on cue, there’s one more explosion, and then an excited cheer from the hero. He’s loud, loud enough to be heard blocks away.

The man’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit! How did you know that?”

Cellbit shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

(It would be weird for him to say he could smell the fear and the blood, so he simply doesn’t.)

“Huh,” says the man. He looks Cellbit over with his eyes and turns around with a grin, pulling his other AirPod out and sticking the both of them in their case. “That’s cool! Are you a psychic or something?”

“…Or something.”

(Somebody’s scared.)

“Oh, me too. How does yours work?”

Oh. Huh. People don’t usually just offer up their abilities like that. So something has to be off.

So Cellbit smiles back, fake. “Nah, I was just messing with you. I’m a reporter, so I know a lot about heroes.”

The man’s face falls, also fake. “Wow, I see.”

But then he cheers back up, seemingly real. “I was just messing with you, too, then.”

And he winks, and Cellbit feels his face heat up just slightly.

(Someone is very scared.)

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. For some reason, he winks back, and he can’t help but laugh lightly at the way the man’s cheeks redden. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Right, right,” the man smiles.

He laughs and offers a hand out that Cellbit hesitantly takes.

“Roier,” he says.

(Someone is very afraid.)

(Cellbit realizes that it’s himself.)

(And that’s okay.)

#asks!#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#I kinda wanna expand on this lol

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captainkurosolaire · 3 months

Text

Father of Shadow

Grey skies of bone waste, dry uncertain humidity polluted the air, in a time stone of an oppressive era. When a peaceful Nation was under siege of a Garlean Empire was prominent conflict. Depleted soul's were torn from destruction brought upon them, not able to spark their rebel spirits. Hopelessness festered, longed, in the dark-void, absence reigned. Until those who dwell and thrive in night, answered. A Doman elegant-magpie, colored descended below gracefully upon a leather-glove, with a braille message-strung delicately for delivery, to who wields sharp steel and handles Black Miracles. It read two-words, stroked in Hingashi. "Unsheathe Shadow." The figure clad to black, descended below a tall cliff-side using a large-bright dragon-theme kite at the last daring moment, blocking a Magitek Armor with an Operator and fellow squadron leading a convoy of spoiled slavers, formerly settlers, farmers of the neighboring land, that'd know a harvest again. Feet-padded quietly a step in their pause. This mask-silhouette figure gave a small startle. Keen eyes of one Imperialist gave rise to a Eastern-forged scabbard blade, letting out a small-laugh from his throat, "Hey, Men! Seems we forgot one. Ki--" Cut off before the executive order, through a sleeved kunai punctured the throat. The specter of death, was swarmed instantaneous. Time felt frozen momentarily, when two-pursuers stepped in striking distance, before they were aware of the next breathe, they were struck down from a blinding quick unsheathe. A firm masculine gloved-hand grappled one of the defeated imperialist by their skull and used their cadaver as a shield-charge to block, a volley of ballistics sponged to the reload, swiftly, the assailant lunged his blade through the deceased into the reloading legionary, puncturing two-hearts. Crushing flail came swinging towards the assailant from behind, stern senses strengthened for obscured sight gave an acrobatic bending dodge, strands of raven hair's plucked grazing overhead, the swordsman withdrew his blade full of heated ichor, blinding the bruiser. Handicapped and shouting obscenities, he withdrew his chained-flail, the assailant vanished alongside the call-back, leaping carefully on returning weapon. Graciously leaping overhead. A swift-slice midair struck. Another head fell below removed from neck. Sudden commotion and pause made the prisoner's of war began up-roaring with renewed spirits, kicking at their confines. Magitek-Armored pilot took firing aim and unleashed a mini-gun of bullets at the shadow. The figure-glided with the wind, feline ear's rattling towards the preparing machinery coiling before assault, heel's building up wind, his blade let out a howling gust, rocketing him forth towards a hanging-tree, bullet's closely racketing behind. Fluid-movement, his free-arm locked onto a sturdy branch. He parted his blade-flat below his feet using it like a temporarily standing-board. Then unhooked from hip satchel a paper-scrolled bomb strung to another kunai, a fuse laid underneath the hilt like a switch, once launched and struck its target, it'd detonate. Ilm's from filling the assassin with swissed-holes, the weapon's arm of the machinery imploded and cracked pilot's glass windshield, the magitek armor fell off balance, exposed trying to regain control. His eye's-opened widely. Sole's directly above his small-layer between him, in the death-dealer who had catapulted and sprung himself with a feline leap. Shedding a last-gasp before expertly steel slid between the cracked- creases, and impaled him unable to evade demise. His skull ragged dolled forth bashing into the detonation button. Electrical in-balance was felt predicatively, the assassin leapt backwards, yet was unable to clear. Blocking with his arm's and blade, shrapnel of machinery projectiles dug into his flesh, boom sent the shadow careening below harshly.

Ember's surrounding him, scorched land and concussed with his hearing shrieking, distorted, his mask cracked. His body was tortured fashioned to these sensations. Adrenaline coursing inside him, nullifying the extent of his injuries, momentarily, he rolled instinctively feeling the heat near his feline tail. Despite being a deadly-weapon, expressionless, empty-nearly. He finished his task employed, by releasing the prisoner's door, they flooded out looking to find their rescuer but only a blood-trail remained mixed with all the other disarray. He had a date, with someone, that daringly made his sharpest blade, blunt. Even demolished like this, he wouldn't miss the intended target who'd forever alter his knowledge of Life. Using his blade-hilt as a cane to hold uprightness. In all or any; Darkness... There was somewhere a Light, to appreciate.

[Prev:Chapter]: ~ ♪"As Above, So Below"♪

#2 of 100 #Hoku Solaire #Father of Shadows #reader discretion advised #Creative Writing #Tales of the Goldbrand #scarlet destiny: volume 4 #Assassin Dad #Graphic update atmospheric is what DT is about #Gonna pump much as I feel until hit the challenge #100 still not going to be enough to get 1/4th of these stories I got lined up #Hopefully I can earn a 'you tried sticker' though

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Alright I’m still alive a day later so LOOK! First pass of Taaco from TV! Everything but the hat and the cape came from the closet and the shorts say IDGAF on the butt but the cape covers them 😔

My first magic trick of the day was taking off the bra I wore to drive down without taking off the corset or shirt

My second trick was applying kinesiology tape to bind the tiddies down again, without taking off the corset or shirt

Success rates??? Not great, I’ll grant you, but I got a couple inches off and they stayed in place with no bouncing even when I ran for the 5 hours of con! So still better than the bra

(You are not supposed to tape the tiddies for more than 4 hours the first couple times you do it apparently and this was attempt 2 so even that was pushing it, especially in 30 degree heat. I go hard or go home)

These boots also have the highest incline from toe-to-heel that I’ve worn to a con, since all my taller shoes are platforms and reasonably flat which makes them super easy to run in

Only had one minor spill while chasing down a t-rex but those photos are all on the camera so they’ll live on Insta when the time comes

The ding dang bracer that closed fine at home on two magnets decided if I was gonna move my hands it now needs 3 to keep it in place, so I’m fixing that today

The criminal in question:

Aaaand the purple and blue pouch I sewed at the con while waiting for passes, so I think I really had a very Adventure Zone day all around

The hat? The hat crushed it, 0 problems except one attempt to take flight on our way back to the car, which I caught by the curtain wire sooooo I gotta tighten the attachments on that before I put the curtain on cuz it pulled a lil bit

Worked like a charm though, held it above my head for the dealer’s room, weighed nothing (comparatively, hence taking flight), and for the first time in 4 years I spent most of a day outside without getting sun sick

For the first time I did need to bobby pin this wig, which I shoulda seen coming given the hat. It did also keep trying to eat my ears, the pin, my earrings, and anything else that came near my head though so she may also be getting rowdy

The cape jingled merrily all day so even if I was a lil slowed down no one had to worry about losing me! 😁 all in all………. Them boots ain’t coming to Yeticon I would PERISH on the hills, but I have a couple possible substitutes

I’m hoping to have the curtain on by then though! Soooo depending on some imminent updates, we’ll see if the hat comes to con again 👀

We also watched a truck hit a soccer mom ass van and crack the damn windshield in half literally right in front of us rather than wait for the van to move over another foot so it could get through, because some genius decided that if he had to get to the back of the con at 5pm on Sunday through THE MAIN PARKING LOT he didn’t have to show up early or anything

To arrive on time. At the end of the con. On the last day.

You could barely swipe a credit card between their bumpers with how close he was tailgating the van, and then when staff came to direct an opening to slide the truck down the middle he couldn’t wait 5 more minutes for the car to actually get out of the way, sooooooo hope he liked the extra 2 hours and insurance calls

Lucky for us, we could get out of the parking lot the other way and I warned everyone in line behind him that they’d had a crash blocking that lane so they’d have a chance to turn around

I’m never parking back there again I’ll eat the $15-$20 to park at the hotel across the street for Sunday and anyone wanting a ride home with me can chip in

We actually did alright though, only took us one hour to clear the parking lot, despite lots of assholes and some poor indecisive souls who all seemed to think indicating was a polite request, not a declaration of intent

#anime north #anime north 2023 #the adventure zone #taako from tv #taz taako #taz balance #taako taaco #taako cosplay #thinking about making him a t4t shirt #for multiple reasons 😏#tex mex twins both trans in opposite directions feeds my soul #but if i do it tft it can also be for ‘taako from tv’ and then IT WAS A SECRET MESSAGE ALL ALONG #big stupid wizard hat

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

Text

🟣 ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

Morning Report - Monday

⭕ BARRAGE OF HAMAS ROCKETS at near Gaza towns (20) from Khan Yunis.

▪️MORE WAYS TO READ.. for those who prefer X or Facebook, we are now there:

🔸X (twitter) - https://x.com/IsraelRealtime

🔸Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61558471625976

▪️HAMAS WEAPONS MAKING VIDEO.. The military arm of Hamas is trying very hard to show that it continues to produce explosives even during the war, by showing someone spray painting Chinese HEAT warheads and attaching instructions in Arabic.

▪️RELEASED TERRORISTS.. this morning the IDF released the director of Shifa hospital aka Hamas HQ together with 50 captured terrorists. Speaking out about the release were both opposition party leader Israel our Home MK Liberman, and coalition party leader Otzma Yehudit MK Ben Gvir, who both had harsh words for releases while our hostages remain held. Various other MK’s and ministers are FURIOUS that the IDF and Shin Bet made this release.

(Amit Segal commentary: ) “If it turned out that the manager of Sheba hospital in Tel Aviv was hiding hundreds of drug dealers in the institution, he would go to prison for the rest of his life. So why is it that when the director of Shifa in Gaza hides thousands of terrorists, and he is released after 8 months?”

▪️PROTEST - ANTI-GOVT.. Demonstrators against the government block highway 40 near Magashim intersection.

▪️PROTEST - ANTI-DRAFT TURNS VIOLENT.. Jerusalem: arrests for attempts to harm the police officers, the police arrested 5. Two for attacking police officers and 3 for throwing stones or objects.

▪️RETAIL - EV CARS.. The purchase tax on an electric vehicles will jump in January, but no one knows by how much.

▪️POLITICS - NEW PARTY FOR THE WIN? Initial polls show a potential party of Israel our Home MK Liberman + former PM Bennett + former Mossad head Yossi Cohen would be a winner! Early reports say leadership terms are difficult - the party may not happen.

▪️HIGH COURT CASE - ISRAEL MUST TAKE WOUNDED GAZANS? Moked for the Protection of Individuals and Doctors for Human Rights petition the High Court to obligate Israel to evacuate wounded Gazans into Israel.

▪️NEW NUKES.. “It is estimated” that Israel invested over a billion dollars in nuclear weapons in the last year (2023) according to the fifth annual report of the International Movement for the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons and “it is estimated” that Israel has 90 nuclear weapons, putting it just behind India and Pakistan in nuclear arsenal… on the basis of “estimates”.

▪️ON CHAREDI DRAFT.. The head of the Council of Torah Sages, Rabbi Moshe Maya: “If military frameworks are established following the advice of the rabbis, which will certainly protect every ultra-Orthodox recruit and with legal validity - those who do not study can be recruited.”

♦️US DESTROYS 3 SUICIDE BOATS from the Houthis in the RED SEA.

⭕ ANTI-TANK MISSILES from HEZBOLLAH at Metulla.

⭕ SHIA MILITIA IRAQ CLAIM ATTACK ON EILAT.. no such attack known.

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Israel/HamasWar #Gaza #IDF #BDE #ISRAEL REALTIME #Hezbollah

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acapelladitty · 1 year

Text

Scriddler fic - Bolt The Door

Summary - Edward decides to play the role of stalker as he follows Jonathan around the city while he conducts some business. (nsfw)

Also posted to AO3

Arousal was a fickle mistress but as Edward danced through the shadows of the rapidly darkening Gotham streets in pursuit of his unaware partner, he found it impossible to deny the thrill of the unaware chase and the growing hardness which pressed uncomfortably against his bottle green slacks.

At the other end of the street, his collar tucked high as a deep plum scarf covered most of his identity, Jonathan Crane wove his way through the quiet streets, unaware of the stalking presence which had been following him for some time now. Not for any nefarious purpose, but Edward had found himself afflicted with a terrible boredom that sparked a mischievous desire to play a game with his unassuming partner.

Thus far, things had been simple enough. Jonathan had visited a local pharmacy to pick up a prescription under a name which did not belong to him and he had returned to walking the streets with purpose. Which purpose, Edward was unsure, but the thrill of the uncertain made his steps light as he maintained a steady distance.

The sun disappearing rapidly over the far horizon, Jonathan appeared to take advantage of the declining light to turn on his heel and cut down a darkened alleyway.

Edward followed, tactfully using the shadows to remain hidden as he too rounded the sharp corner.

Jonathan was no longer alone.

A man, his clothing cheap and ragged at the thin edges, stood opposite him and from this perspective, Edward could only just make out the sickly features which broke free of the man's face. An addict. One of Jonathan's contacts perhaps? A hench? An informant? Most likely a dealer, given his threadbare presentation.

Edward, unable to hear their dialogue, instead focused on his observations. Jonathan towered over the unknown dealer, his impressive height allowing him an easy intimidation as he stood with confidence.

Squeezing his thighs together, Edward could not ignore how hard he had grown. How his fingers trembled with arousal as he watched from the shadows, unseen.

A sick, voyeuristic pleasure danced along his skin with every passing moment and he basked in it like a cat in the early morning sun.

A soft noise emerged from Edward's throat in surprise as negotiations clearly turned sour and Jonathan struck out with his fist, catching the dealer in the nose as an audible crack preceded the howl of outrage which the man made as he fell backwards on his ass. It was unexpected; violent and cruel but utterly delightful

Curled around the wall for extra protection, Edward's groin pressed against the cool stone roughly, almost rutting against it as he watched Jonathan approach the now-fallen man.

A glint of steel as a knife appeared in the fray and concern lanced through the arousal which heated Edward's core but it quickly proved to be for nothing as Jonathan dipped to snatch the shaky knife from the man's fingers. In one fell swoop, Jonathan dropped to his haunches and drove the blade deep into the chest of the writhing figure.

Merciless.

Brutal.

Mesmerising.

Palming his cock through his slacks, Edward allowed the adrenaline sweeping through his veins to guide his messy actions as the heel of his hand ground against his throbbing cock, the friction wonderful against his hard, confined length.

A clenched fist blocked the sweet sounds which threatened to slip free his lips as his orgasm struck him with urgency. It was wet and uncomfortable and so utterly wrong that he felt almost light-headed as his free hand clutched at the wall for support.

A screech of approaching sirens caught Edward's attention and he pulled himself flat against the wooden doorframe to his back as his body tensed. All too soon, an ambulance flew past; its blue flashing lights screaming an emergency as the sirens and lights quickly grew less intrusive with each passing moment.

Pushing off the door, Edward turned once more to see if Jonathan were still crouched over his victim but his eyes widened in surprise as he was greeted with an empty space. The body lay perfectly still, sightless eyes still staring up at the unbroken moon, but the murderer was nowhere to be found. Glancing around, he crept closer to the corpse, assuming that Jonathan had continued his path out of the alleyway onto the opposing street.

A gasp tore free of Edward's throat as he approached the corner, only to find his body slammed into the alleyway wall, the damp stone there making him see stars for a moment as his face found itself pressed against the hard surface by an unseen force.

"Unhand me at once you phili-"

"Did you enjoy the show, little voyeur?"

The question wrapped around his ears like a lovers kiss, forcing a renewed warmth through his frame as Edward recognised the honeyed, yet mocking, tones.

"Jonathan." Edward muttered, confirming his suspicions as he tilted his head free of the wall for a moment before finding it slammed back there by a rough hand. "Let me go."

"Why? You've been watching me, since I left the apartment I suspect, so why would I let you go now when you've been so desperate for my attention?"

Unable to deny the accusation even as his cock stirred within his boxers once more, Edward instead settled on open indignation.

"Desperate? For your attention? Don't flatter yourself, Cra-"

His words dissolved into a moan as Jonathan's thin hand pushed roughly against his overly-sensitive cock, snaking its way up to fiddle with his zip as he made quick work of the button holding Edward's slacks together.

A flush broke across Edward's skin. He wanted this. Wanted Jonathan to discover his little secret. His hidden shame.

"Well, well, well." Jonathan deadpanned, his stoic words coated with an undeniable heat as his fingers dipped within Edward's boxers. In less than a moment, he had discovered Edward's little mess, two of his willow digits pulling free with what little remained of Edward's spend coating the tips of them. "What a filthy beast you are. Did you come before or after I killed him?"

Shame and embarrassment roiling within his frame, Edward kept his mouth shut as a fresh flush spread across his cheeks. It was not the answer Jonathan wanted and Edward found himself flipped in place, his back now pressing against the filthy alleyway as Jonathan caged his body neatly.

"Before or after? Let's leave no secrets between lovers, even if one of those lovers is a indecent boy with no shame."

"After." Edward muttered, pinned by Jonathan's sharp gaze as his head tilted messily against the stone wall for support. "Just after you killed him."

Nodding his understanding, Jonathan pressed his groin against Edward's hip and Edward bit back a soft groan at the noticeable hardness there. His head felt light, arousal and shame swirling in such a way that his breath shuddered its way free of his chest.

"I provided a show for you," Jonathan smirked, his lips pulling into a sadistic smirk, "and now I think I'm owed my own little performance."

Thin fingers pushed against Edward's lips and he opened them obediently, the familiar taste of Jonathan's fingers mixed with the slight salted tang of his own release quick to coat his tongue. His teeth nipped at the edge of the long digits and Edward found himself rewarded with a stunted growl for his efforts.

"On your knees, Edward. The night is still young and the Scarecrow demands his due."

Regarldess how aroused he were, the pompous words still elicited a roll of Edward's eyes even as he crouched down to his haunches. A performance, sure, but like hell he was kneeling on his $800 suit in this piss-stained alleyway.

#scriddler #edward nygma #riddler #jonathan crane #scarecrow #riddlecrow #edward nigma #gotham rogues #scriddler fic #dc comics #batman villains

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sombrashe · 7 months

Text

content drug dealer!Troy x weed smoker!Reader, chubby! afab! gn! reader, drug mention, lots of dr♡g content, reader is a little dr♡ggie 🫶🏻, it's just weed, pubic hair, cunnilingus, blowjob

note(s) this is not at all edited, i wrote this on my phone and need to post it immediately ♡ this is for all my slutty virgins

Huffing you follow closely behind your friend. Her hand is intertwined with yours, but you still feel like you could easily lose her in the crowd. You weren't exactly sure whose party this was all you could tell was they threw ragers based off the noise level that only grew the further down the block you walked. Despite the bruised ribs from randoms elbows you made it to the front door in one piece.

"Hey Charlie!"

Ahhhh so this is Charlie. Smiling you give the blonde woman a quick nod. Your friend keeps her grip on your hand and you suddenly feel like a child whose mom just saw a friend at the grocery store. You manage to keep your patience the people in like behind you two more than annoyed enough. After a good few minutes Charlie kind of shoves your friend forward with the promise of finding her later. Making your way inside, you're surprised at how dingy the house is. From the outside it looked gorgeous with the dark masonry complimenting the lighter woodwork. You barely have time to check out the area before you're being led down a hallway and into a white tiled kitchen. Now this is what you were expecting. Granite topped counters, sparkling white tiles at your feet and sea green back splash adding a pop of color to the medicinal styled room. It was a gorgeous room and you got to take a longer look before you are led to the opposite side.

"Troy... Troy! Hey! This is my friend. Yeah, the one i was telling you about. Yeah. It's their first real party."

She punctuates her sentence with a gently shoulder bump. You have absolutely no idea who this man was. He was ridiculously hot though. You find yourself unable to look away as he conversed with your girl. Only when he takes a glance at you do you break your eye contact. Heat creeps up your neck as you slowly look at him again. Trying hard not to seem eager at getting an eyeful.

"Troy."

He extends his hand and you shake it. Awfully formal for a house party. You can't help but think theres something more to this guy. The way he held himself and how he was alone but in a deliberate way. This is the dealer I was telling you about. Your friend mutters against the shell of your ear. The music thumps in tandem with your heart as you try to give a polite smile. Theres no way this guy will want to sleep with me.

A few months ago your friend was so excited to tell you about the new drug dealer who moved in down the street. His house an immediate hub of activity. She blabbed on and on about how cute he was and how she couldn't wait to introduce you to him. You let her have her moment and listened carefully to every word she said.

"... So I told him about you and he really wants to meet you! Showed him that cute photo of you when you got your hair done last week."

You were shocked to say the least. Why the hell did she tell him about you? And why did he really want to meet you? These were both questions you verbalized and her response had heat rushing to your head.

"Oh well he normally gives discounts to pretty girls, especially the ones willing to sleep with him, but i think he's willing to make an exception for you. He said he loves your style. Thats a huge compliment coming from him."

You blink up at her and move from your lying position to sitting fully upright. Sleep with him?

"I haven't even tried his shit yet. There's no way I'm giving head to a dude with shit weed."

Your friend just hopped down beside you and bumped the contents of her Sephora bag onto your lap. Two packs of edibles, an eighth and a cart bounced onto the fat on your thighs. Taking a moment to look through everything you finished your investigation by opening the baggie and taking a wiff. Your friend sat by expectantly, waiting for your response.

"Just because it smells good doesn't mean it is."

She sighed and flopped back onto your bed.

"Then try it silly. Thats the whole point. If it's as good as Jessica says it is then you could put that mouth to good use and score us some freebies."

You mumble under your breath saying nothing of real importance. Sliding open your bedside table you removed a small red and pink speckled bowl. Alongside the bowl you pull out a hello kitty grinder and a paper plate. While your friend plucks a few bits of the bud from the baggie you open your grinder and let her place the small pieces onto the spikes. Closing the lid you twist it a few times checking once to make sure there was none stuck. Carefully, using the plate to catch and fallout, you start packing the bowl. Picking up the few little bits that fell from your fingertips you dust them on top of the packed bud. Slipping the plate and grinder back into the drawer you replace them with a plain black lighter. Clicking it on you raise the bowl to your lips and take a breath. Holding it for a moment you soon exhale a cloud of dilapidated white smoke. Smacking your lips you make a show of trying the bud. Another hit. Another exhale. And you're passing the bowl over to your girl.

"Okay so maybe I am willing to meet this new guy."

"I'll introduce you." She puffs proudly in between coughs.

He mirrors your polite smile with one of his own, a bite of something more behind his pearly whites. Squeezing your arm your friend excuses herself to go and find Charlie. You watch her go before turning back towards the tall man. God he has to be at least 6 foot. And handsome as hell. Taking a step closer you lean up hoping he takes the hint. He does and leans down so you can speak against his ear. The music much too loud for regular conversation. You introduce yourself, a manicured hand gently gripping lean muscle. You got them done especially for him. Your friend explaining he goes for the ones with longer nails, "maybe he likes being scratched." She had giggled. Her eyes bloodshot.

"How do you know Layla?"

His voice is a deep rumble coming straight from his chest as he spoke lowly. A conversation for just the two of you.

"We've been friend since middle school, met in math class. We were both in one of those higher level classes. Never got anything done though."

You give a small laugh and squeeze at his bicep making sure he feels the blunt edges of your nails gently pressing into his polo. He's so close you can feel him smile against your helix.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun."

"I'm always having fun. I love fun."

It was corny, but it worked. His left hand leaves his side and finds its way against the small of your back. Guiding you he stays hunched over for a few more moments.

"Then I think I have something you're going to love."

Straightening he's at his full height as he walks side by side with you through the crowded living room. Red solo cups and beer bottles clink on the wooden floor as you shift through them. You catch your girls eye and give her a small wave and a oh my god he's so fine look. You see her start to make a thumbs up before you're ushered into a small room. The room was bare except for a table almost displayed in the middle of the room. He places you in front of the table and you wait patiently as he moves over to the small closet in the corner. Shifting through a few things he seems to find what he was looking for and with a smile shakes a fairly large metal box in your direction. Coming back to the opposite side of the table he spends like ten whole minutes organizing and placing different products onto the table. Your jaw drops slightly at the amount of strains he had placed in front of you. Once he's finished he opens his arms wide with an award winning smile.

"Ta Dah. I have a gun so don't try taking my shit."

You shake your head and scoff.

"Im trying to see your dick not get shot."

His grins turns wolfish as he plucks a small baggie with no label. Opening it carefully he plucks out a piece of bud and holds it up to you. You lean forward and take a quick sniff. Loud as hell. Fuck he smells good. Opening your palm you examine the piece under the lamplight. Deep orange speckles with dark green in a gorgeous cacophony of color.

"Whats the strain?"

You move the piece of bud from one hand to the other.

"Hybrid."

Rubbing your fingers together you feel just how sticky they are.

"How much?"

Another sniff

"For you? On the house tonight. How much do you want?"

You pause and raise an eyebrow. Free?

"An ounce?"

You say it more like a question. He responds by plucking the piece of bud out of your fingertips and drops it back into the baggie. Wrapping the baggie back up he pockets it before looking back into your eyes.

"Wanna see any others?"

He drums his fingers across the table. You shake your head.

"An ounce will be enough for the month. If i need more i'll be sure to come straight here. Do you have any papers? Preferably pre-rolled. I don't like getting my fingernails dirty."

You wiggle your nails at him and he actually takes your hand in his to look at them. You weren't expecting it and blushing heat fills your cheeks. He hums in agreement. He's so gentle when he releases your hand before packing up. Clutching your hand in the other you watch him meticulously put every baggie into the box. Carefully stacking them on top of one another.

"On the house. You do that for everyone who wants to give you head?"

"Only the ones I actually want it from. Youre one of the lucky ones."

He flashes you another wolfish grin before turning to hide that box away. You make a point not to watch as you wait patiently.

"My papers are in my room. You can wait down here while I grab 'em."

"Do you mind if I come with? I'm a little picky."

He makes the few steps from the closet to you. Holding out his arm he waits until you're wrapped around him. Leading you through the door he pushes past people bent over taking a bump. You straighten and stay close like the sweetest piece of candy. The stairs are tricky, people slumped over half asleep and you have to trail behind him. He keeps your finger interlocked though and you know for sure he's wrapped around your finger. At least for the night. Hopefully many nights. Hooking a right you walk into a master bedroom. It was huge with a giant plush bed resting in the corner. Is that a fucking mirror?

"You have a mirror above your bed?"

"Yeah. I find it helps my clients cum faster when they can see me fucking 'em. You mind?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

You turn around and listen as he rustles around seeking out his product. Was he going to make me watch? God you hoped so.

"m'good."

You turned back around and towards his bed. Laid out were a few different types of wraps. You walked over and placed a hand on his arm. Scratching at him with a pout.

"I'll take any pre rolled, i don't care. I'm in your room now. Can we move on?"

"Thank god."

He grabbed up the wraps and discarded them on top of his spotless dresser. He's cupping your face within a blink. His lips crash against yours and you taste the faintest hint of Mary on his lips. The kiss is brutal and you smush your face closer to his. Teeth nicking lips. Tongues licking lips. And all you can do is moan nice and pathetic for him.

"You're like really hot." He mutters out loud.

His hands float from your neck and jaw to your hips where he pulls you nice and close. You feel how hard he is through his jeans. Reaching down you cup him. Trying your best to rub at him through the denim. He groans and grinds into your hand. He's back to cupping your jaw and his thumbs rub at your cheeks. His lips never leave yours and you swear you weren't going to have any left if you kept this up. You decide to pull away and looked up at him. His eyes are stormy. Fuck he made you wet. You fight the urge to pull him back into a kiss. His lip has a split down the middle and you realize you have a matching one on the top lip. He doesn't wait even a moment before he's pushing your jaw up so he can mouth at your neck. Sucking in some of your flesh he chews on it before letting go. Moving down a bit he leaves wet bruises in his wake. Licking at your collarbone he chews on the fleshy bone. All the while you're undoing his belt to let the tip of his cock poke out of his briefs. Squeezing at the length of it you occasionally rub the tip of your finger against his slit. He pulls away just enough to pant at your slick skin. Bumping his forehead against your chest he replaces your hand with his. Yanking down his pants he let them pile at his ankles. You take the hint and gently pull at his hair to remove him from your chest. Sinking down to your knees you roll his briefs down his thighs and over his knees. He shrugged off his jacket in the process and his leaking cock jumps against his t shirt. Olive green darkening to an army green as his cock leaks a wet spot. You hum and take him in your palm. Taking the tip of his cock in your mouth you suck gently on it. It tastes surprisingly sweet and you hum directly against him. He groans out and cups the back of your skull. He doesn't push down and you appreciate it greatly. Letting spit fill your mouth you wait until you get a good bit. Letting it leak from behind your lips you use your palm to slick his shaft. You move fingers over veins and pull away to lap at his slit.

"You taste so good. Such a pretty dick."

His hips jerk and this time he forces your head back down onto his cock. You smile and swallow around him. Pushing yourself you swallow inch by inch until you can fully relax to take him down your throat. The patch of hair that leads from his belly button to right above his pelvis tickles the tip of your nose. So fucking pretty. As you bob your head he lets out the sweetest noises. Moans and whines fill your ears. His hips jerk every time your nose touches that patch of hair. You feel his abdomen clench as he tries his hardest to stay still. Scratching gently at his hardened abdomen his skin jumps a few times. He grabs at your wrist and keeps his grip loose as to follow your actions. Squeezing his spit soaked cock you suck at his tip a few more times.

"'m 'boutta cum."

You hum in acknowledgment and continue to jack him off into your mouth. It doesn't take long before his hips surge forward and he's filling your mouth. Salt coats your tongue and you greedily milk him dry. Swallowing every drop you pull away from him completely and wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. He crouches down and sticks his tongue in your mouth. Making out with you for a few minutes before pulling away beaming.

"G'nna let me taste you?"

You lick at the bone of his jaw. Chewing on it before answering.

"First time i've been asked that." You give a short laugh.

He looks into your eyes suddenly serious. "Go on 'head and get on that bed."

You suck in your bottom lip. Standing you pull off your slacks. He looks at your exposed cunt. Looks back up at you. Then finished by making eye contact with your cunt again. He presses a sloppy kiss against the fat of your labia. Kicking off your jeans, socks and shoes you climb onto his bed. Stretching out you arch your back before settling down facing him. His cock is already hard again and rests against his abdomen. His shirt having been discarded during your little show. Crawling towards you he looks up at you over your belly.

"Just know, this is the first time i've eaten a client out."

Heat washes over you and causes you to clench around nothingness. Using his thumbs he spreads your folds apart. They split with a wet squish. Reaching down you gently run your fingers through his hair.

"So pretty. Bet you taste so good."

He's leaning in, his tongue out and waiting. Flattening it out he presses it against your clit with a low groan. You feel heat burn at your eyes as his tongue gently laps at your clit. It's overwhelming how good this feels.

"Wait do that again... fuck. Right there. Thank you thank you thank you."

you can't help but chant praise as he follows your lead. Only breaking it to give an experimental suck. When you react positively he follows a routine. Lick, suck, lick, suck. You say his name in warning already feeling yourself worked up enough to cum.

"Hold on. W'nt you to cum on my tongue."

He replaces his tongue with his finger and you let out an annoyed huff. Kicking your leg down you connect your heel with hid shoulder blade.

"Oh come on. I can get you there again."

He rolls his shoulders giving you a warning glare. You just roll your eyes a slump back.

"You ruin every clients ability to cum?"

"Just the one's i think deserve a little extra time."

Even though there was anger at having been kicked bouncing around his eyes he gave you a genuine flirty smile. He takes a moment and starts circling your clit with the pad of his pointer finger.

"Tell me how you want it."

His words flip your stomach as butterflies threaten to burst out of you. You give him simple instructions: "just like that." "No wait do that again." "Can you try something?" He follows every order with great precision like he was made to be in between your legs. You're so turned on you're not even thinking about much better he can make it. Saying something too soft to make out he plunges his tongue inside your dripping cunt. You let out a mewl as he flicks his tongue inside of you. No one has been so attentive like him and you start to get lightheaded. Dragging your nails gently against his scalp you egg him on with a crescendo of noise. Removing his hand from your clit he reaches up slightly and roughly tugs at your pubic hair. Your hips jerk and you let out a shout as you grind incessantly against his face. He takes turns causing you that small amount of pain before rubbing at you. You're so close now. You can feel the heat in your lowers abdomen start to smolder. So close. So close.

"Please don't stop."

He mumbles something into your cunt but it's far too mumbled to even begin to decipher. He keeps his actions strict his only focus right now was to make you cum. The way he laps at your core tells you all you need to know. Soon that heat bursts and you're gasping out a cry. Your thighs clench around his head and he gets buried in soft skin. Removing his hands from you he reaches to clutch at the fat of your lower belly. He seems to be enjoying himself just as much as you. The vibrations of his moans and sharp whines help tumble you further and further. When you're finished and calmed enough to relax your legs he gets to work pressing gentle kisses all across your pretty soaked cunt. When he leans back you're able to sit up. You immediately feel the need to lay back down when you get a look at him. His styled hair was a complete mess, sweaty strands sticking to his forehead. His lips and chin were covered in your essence, slick that he licked his lips to get. It's his eyes that cause your stomach to clench, oceans of blue darkened and pupils blown so wide you might as well of been looking into a black hole the way they sucked you in. If he wasn't gorgeous before he certainly was now. Especially with the cum stain on his shirt. He came by eating me out... i wanna fuck him so badly. He stands and offers you his hand. You slide your palm against his and he helps you onto your feet. And then holds onto you as you stumble your bones feeling like jello. He chuckles and tucks some hair behind your ear.

"Don't go falling for me now."

"Corny." You let out a snort of a laugh and he grins triumphantly.

Straightening you up he waits until you're able to stand without shaking before letting go. He leans down and yanks his brief and jeans back onto his hips. Leaving you unattended you dress yourself as he goes through a closet finding a new shirt to wear.

"You can go 'head and pick any cones you want. Here's your ounce."

He chucks off his shirt and tosses it into a pile of clothes. He removes the baggie he stashed earlier and tosses it your way. You catch it and slip it into your pocket. You were used to this part. Going through the cones you settle on some hemp ones. Pocketing those too you start to head out when he calls to you.

"This better not be the last time I see you."

"Trust me, after tonight I'm a regular."

He chuckles and pulls on the chosen top of the evening. It's the last thing you see before you're closing the door with a click.

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#fear the walking dead #fear the walking dead smut #ftwd #ftwd smut #dealer!troy #troy otto #troy otto smut #troy otto x reader #troy otto x reader smut #chubby reader #serena writes

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scoops-aboy86 · 5 days

Text

WIP Word Game

Again, wasn’t tagged on these ones but I wanted to write and this is a good way to get my brain to work apparently! At least for a first draft. So, I present: more Steve whump where the first letters of the sentences spell words.

CANDLE

“Can you move your fingers?”

A bright lightning strike of pain lances through Steve as he, perhaps stupidly, tries. “Not a good idea,” he says with a grimace. “Does that mean it’s broken?”

“Looks like it,” Hopper says gruffly, but not without sympathy because… yeah, looking down at it, Steve sees a lump where there definitely shouldn’t be one.

Eddie leans in closer from where he’s stationed himself at the sliding glass door and winces when he sees it too.

THING

“That’s not good.”

“He needs to go to the ER,” Hopper agrees, unfortunately at the exact moment Robin comes back in with a whole stack of towels.

“I found a whole bunch—Go?”

HEAT

Her eyes go even bigger. Even two years after the fact, it’s still too close to the Russians laughing that your friend needs a doctor for comfort—for Steve too, really, but there is a lump sticking out of his wrist. And he doesn’t know much about bones, but even he can tell that it’s a bad break, no wiggle room to plausibly laugh it off and pretend it’s just a sprain.

“Then let’s go get it over with,” Steve says, defeated.

BURN

Bracing himself, he clambers to his feet and waits out the swimming in his head… but it’s not as bad as he expected, which is something at least.

Under way too many watchful eyes, he stands on one towel while slowly, clumsily drying himself off with another. Robin’s brought him dry clothes too, and he retreats to the nearest empty room (which just happens to be his dads dusty study) to change into them… or at least try. Nice thing about being platonic soulmates, though, is that she also knows when to poke her head in and help get the right sleeve over his injury without comment.

DEALER

“Does this mean you can’t keep teaching me how to drive?” she asks, half tearful half preemptively laughing at the weak joke while keeping her eyes firmly off of his wrist.

“Eddie will have to finish that,” he replies with an equally weak smirk. “And I’m not sure who to be more afraid for, honestly.”

“Let’s get some ice on that and go,” Hopper calls from the other room. Everyone is still clamoring out there, the kids all angling to tag along because friends stick together, or something. Really, it’s probably because they’re all thinking of the last time anyone in their exclusive monster hunting club was in the hospital, and all the blood, tears, and trauma had been involved in that.

LEASH

Luckily, because there’s no lives-in-peril adrenaline to buffer Steve from the pain screaming through his nerves this time and he’s starting to feel tears pricking humiliatingly at the corners of his eyes, the only people in the Byers’ car (last in the driveway and therefore not blocked in) with him when it starts up are Robin and Joyce.

Eventually the nurse calls Steve’s name. All he has to do is move the now limp ice pack from his throbbing wrist and she’s already tutting about “clear displacement” and “let’s get you a fresh ice pack, honey.” She gets him that… then ushers him back to the waiting room.

“How are you holding up?” Joyce asks as he sits back down.

PEACH

“Peachy,” Steve mutters. Every time he moves, hoping to find relief in a slightly different position, all he gets is a fresh wave of hurt and it’s starting to wear him raw. And it’s stupid, because what did he fucking expect; his bone is fucked up!

“Can’t say I’m impressed with the wait time,” Joyce continues, craning her neck to look around the room, “but they seem to be moving people along, even if it takes a while—”

“Here,” Robin murmurs, pressing a styrofoam cup of coffee into his hand.

“—Going to go up there to give someone a talking to if they don’t give you something for the pain soon.”

He grimaces, partly because he isn’t sure how to take the prospect of Joyce going all Joyce Byers on his account—why would she, when he’s not her kid?—but mostly because the coffee is terrible. “Oh my god, where did you get this crap?”

Shrugging, Robin settles her head on his good shoulder. “Traditionally people say thank you after receiving a gift,” she sniffs.

HOME

“Had to kill a man.”

“Oh,” Steve scoffs, “I’ll bet. Maybe next time find out if the coffee came from a bean or a powder first.” Except he keeps drinking it anyway, because he has fuck all else to do and any sort of distraction is better than nothing.

YEARNING

Years (or what seems like it) later, Steve’s name is called again and this time asks to bring his ‘sister’ back with him.

Everything around him feels too bright and fast. Robin included, buzzing anxiously around him as he walks slowly and carefully with his wrist held against his chest. Not because he’s afraid he might fall again, obviously… If anyone were to ask, he’s totally not remembering that instant where his feet were no longer underneath him, or that moment where he’d landed on his reflexively outstretched hand, or an underground bunker two years ago when a Russian doctor had jammed a needle into his neck.

Not at all.

Grimacing and bearing it through X-rays while the technician has him adjust the angle of his arm this way and that, he can’t help looking at the unnatural bump coming out of his wrist and getting progressively more freaked out by how wrong it looks.

If you want to do this too, your word is ICE CREAM, and no that is one word to me regardless of the space in there. No pressure and/or just drop by and read some new words tag:

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

#scoops words #steve harrington #steve whump #scoops broken wrist fic

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ilanorgratvol · 2 months

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Rough tempest they will raise - Part 1

It's been a year since I, as many others in this fandom, have been having a hyper-fixation on BG3 and the specific wizard, which consumes my mind constantly. So, consider this to be my attempt to get this out of my system; my therapy if you like.

The events of this story will take place a little bit before the events in the game and during it as well.

There are gonna be some AI-generated images as well, just to boost my imagination. So bare it in mind if you have an allergy on such type of content ;) All that's written though - is a fruit of my aching mind. Also, bear in mind that English is not my native language. So, I'm sorry in advance for the mistakes.

Rating of this part: Mature

The city of Waterdeep was full of people. Different kinds of people: merchants, dealers, scholars, and burglars. It was a city where life burst with every color imaginable, and everyone could find whatever their heart desired. The streets were bustling with people day and night. They walked, ran, and sneaked around, each pursuing goals only they knew about.

So, it wasn't a surprise that nobody paid attention to a young woman entering the city one night. She wore an unremarkable cloak that covered her head, which might have explained her invisibility. Or maybe it was just an illusion spell she had cast long before approaching the city gates.

She walked through the streets, illuminated by the lights of shops and taverns, breathing in the sea air. It reminded her of home. And she hated it.

She slowly made her way deeper into the city, carefully navigating around vagrants and drunkards who occasionally blocked her path, trying not to draw attention, glancing now and then at the signs of various establishments.

"Why did he choose this foul-smelling hole? I could have stayed at the Academy for the night," she muttered under her breath, leaping over an especially foul puddle.

After some time, her gaze finally landed on the sign she had been searching for. "Yawning Portal" was the name of the tavern now standing before her. From inside came the sounds of singing, loud conversations, and occasionally, the crash of breaking dishes. She sighed, tired and resigned, and stepped inside. Immediately, she was hit by a wave of foul odors unique to such establishments—a mix of stale alcohol on the floor, cigar smoke, sweat, and who knows what else. She squeezed her way through the tightly packed tables to the bar, where an older bartender with a red mane and thick mustache stood. For a moment, he seemed to ignore her presence, but as soon as she subtly moved her hand, he snapped out of his stupor and stared at her.

"Oh! It's not often we get visitors like you," he said, licking his lips, causing her to grimace. "Welcome to the Yawning Portal. What can I get you, beautiful?" With that, he leaned on the bar, flashing the last nine teeth he had.

"A room for one night, a mug of ale, and to be left alone for the rest of the evening," she replied dryly, dropping a handful of gold coins onto the counter while scanning the main hall of the tavern.

"Straight to business..." the man grumbled, but he didn't argue with gold and swept the coins into his hand. Turning his back to her, he filled a clay mug with ale from a barrel and grabbed one of the keys hanging on a small board to the left. "The farthest left room on the second floor," he responded just as dryly, placing the mug and key in front of her, "What name should I put down?"

"Talia", she nodded in response, took the mug and key, and headed to the far corner of the tavern, taking a seat at a small table.

Despite the late hour, the tavern was packed with people. The air was filled with the hum of heated conversations, women's laughter, and the drunken singing of guests who had stayed too long. Talia was lost in her thoughts, tracing her finger around her mug, until a particularly loud man at the other end of the room caught her attention with his shout:

"Oi, Durnan! It's been a while since we've seen the wizard. The guys and I have gotten used to his rounds!"

The man behind the bar, who seemed to be Durnan, just smirked. "Don't expect to see him anytime soon. Word is, his goddess left him high and dry, and he's licking his wounds in his tower."

A younger man at a nearby table quickly chimed in, "I heard she cursed him because he refused a threesome with another archmage."

"Or maybe he just can't get it up anymore and is too ashamed to show his face," a woman in an especially short dress shouted. The tavern erupted in laughter.

Durnan, now stepping out from behind the bar with a towel in hand, lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The guys down at the docks said they saw him one night, leaving his tower. They say he looked like he'd been in a fight with a Spectator, all scruffy, bags under his eyes. And his chest was glowing so brightly it hurt to look at."

He paused to make sure he had everyone's attention, and the tavern fell silent. Talia perked up her ears. "Looks like our wizard tried to bite off more than he could chew. Let's hope it only backfires on him and not the whole city."

The guests quietly murmured among themselves, discussing what had just been said. Durnan returned to the bar and began polishing glasses, lost in his thoughts. Talia bitterly smirked and shook her head. Not the first and certainly not the last wizard to choke on the Weave and his own ego.

She quickly finished her ale and headed to her room. The rest of the night passed swiftly and unnoticed, giving way to the early dawn that woke her a few hours later. From the street came the clatter of passing carts, the shouts of market vendors opening their shops, and the same foul smell of the sea. Talia grimaced, rubbed her eyes, dressed quickly, and before leaving, she pulled a carefully rolled scroll with a wax seal in the shape of a many-pointed star—the symbol of Mystra—from her travel bag. Unrolling the scroll once more, Talia skimmed the letter's text:

"Drifting along the currents of our disparate lives, we rarely consider how their intricate twists sometimes do us a favor. But what are the random twists of fate if not a divine plan aimed at correcting our own mistakes? Once realizing this fact, one will henceforth view random encounters and opportunities more graciously, as they are, in essence, fateful events..."

"For the love of..." Talia muttered under her breath. The letter continued, though the phrases became more terse and to the point. Perhaps the fact that the scroll was nearing its end had curbed the sender's verbosity:

"For this reason, and many others that should not be disclosed in a letter, I look forward to seeing you at the Academy. I am convinced that we can be of service to each other and can assist in our mutual goals and endeavors. With that, I bid you farewell and await your response. Archmage, Chosen of Mystra, Elminster Aumar. P.S. I recommend staying at the Yawning Portal. It's an incredibly fascinating place for minds open to new experiences."

"Old charlatan," Talia muttered under her breath as she put the letter back into her bag. She descended into the main hall of the tavern, placed the room key on the bar counter, and stepped out onto the city streets. The sun was already high enough to provide a bit of warmth, and Talia involuntarily tilted her face towards the rays, closing her eyes for a second. Then she adjusted the bag on her shoulder and headed towards the city center.

The Blackstaff Academy, one of the most renowned wizarding academies on the Sword Coast, towered over the other buildings in the city. The structure was a massive stone edifice with two wings extending from a central tower. One side of the Academy faced the city's main street, while the other side overlooked the waterfront. As Talia approached the building, she noticed more and more students bustling about, most dressed in working robes, discussing various aspects of spellcasting. She growled again at the thought of someone trying to confine the experience of mastering the Weave into rules, doctrines, guidelines, and—horror of horrors—instructions.

Opening the massive door to the building, Talia found herself in the main foyer of the academy. The marble walls muted the sounds from the street and created an already cool atmosphere fitting for a place of learning. She approached a massive desk where a translucent projection of a rather stern-looking elderly woman was seated. The woman was intently studying a scroll before her, then looked up at Talia.

"Group? Department? Professor?"

"Excuse me..." Talia began uncertainly.

"Group? Department? Professor?" the projection repeated, with a note of impatience.

"I have no idea. I don't give a shit. Elminster Aumar," Talia replied just as impatiently.

The projection seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds before looking at her again. "West wing, second floor, room 203," it said. Talia nodded and turned toward the indicated wing, but the projection continued speaking as she walked away, "All third-year students must submit their term paper topics on evocation to their respective professors by the end of the semester. In case of non-compliance with the topic..." Talia stopped listening as she made her way deeper into the wing. The long corridors of the building were no different from the central hall. The same cold stone walls loomed over the heads of passing students and professors. Numerous portraits of notable wizards seemed to follow the students with their eyes, expressing a distinct sense of slight disdain and indifference. The only source of light in the building was the large chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, filled with numerous candles that automatically lit up and extinguished as people approached them.

Talia quickly found the door she needed and, before knocking or entering, quietly approached and pressed her ear to it. At first, there was no sound, but then a low, raspy voice said:

"Come in, child. I can sense your Weave from a mile away. No need to stand behind the door."

Talia rolled her eyes and opened the door. The archmage's office was as simply furnished as the rest of the Academy. The ornamentation of the stone walls was interrupted only by numerous shelves filled with books of various ages and sizes. A large desk was situated by the window, where the aforementioned wizard sat. He was dressed in a red robe with gold trim, and his head was topped with a similarly red wide-brimmed hat. His eyes quickly moved from the papers on his desk to the girl.

"Elminster," Talia said, closing the door and turning to the wizard.

"Talia, I presume," Elminster extended his hand, indicating a chair opposite him, "I hope your stay in such a diverse and multifaceted place as the Yawning Portal left you with the same impression that I was fortunate to experience once, as a young lad just receiving the first signs of attention from the goddess..."

"Elminster," Talia repeated more emphatically, sitting down on the chair before him and trying to stop his flow of words.

"Ah, yes," the wizard started, as if waking from a dream, "How do you find our city?"

"Delightful," Talia muttered, raising an eyebrow, "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to the point..."

"Of course, of course. The essence of everything—is it not the ultimate goal of every living being in all worlds... To understand the essence of things, of the universe, of life itself..."

"Elminster!" Talia exclaimed, no longer restraining herself.

"Yes, yes...." Elminster sighed, "You must forgive an old man.... Now, what were we talking about?"

Talia pulled out the letter and unfolded it before the wizard.

"In the letter, you said you could help me," she pointed to a line in the letter, "You know the whereabouts of Nathaniel? My brother?"

The wizard smirked, "This is where the true wisdom and beauty of the words our minds strive to convey reveal themselves..."

"Elminster..." Talia practically growled at him.

"All I'm saying, child, is that you should have studied my message more carefully," Elminster clasped his hands together, "I wrote that we could be of service to each other. And only in this manner, can our alliance be formed."

"Do you know where my brother is, old man, or have you been leading me on for months?!" Talia finally lost her patience and jumped up from her chair, her hands slamming onto the desk.

Elminster's face grew serious, sparks of amusement dancing in his eyes, "Do not toy with me, sorceress. I meant exactly what I wrote. Not a word more, not a word less. I will help you find your brother, provided you fulfill your part of the deal."

"What do I have to do?" Talia croaked, realizing this was her only chance to find her brother...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That same evening, Talia found herself standing at the entrance of a tall tower on the coast. Ivy climbed the tower's walls and the wings of the building extending from it. Bright purple flowers occasionally blocked the already small windows' access to light. The small garden surrounding the tower looked neglected, though it was clear it had been well-maintained not too long ago.

"Study the wizard's condition, Talia..." the girl mockingly mimicked Elminster, grimacing, "You are a sorceress; the Weave is in your blood, Talia..." she kicked a nearby stone, "That prick probably got some magical herpes from a romp with Mystra, and I have to clean up the mess..."

Regardless, she approached the massive wooden door and knocked loudly. At first, there was only silence, but then there were rustling sounds, a dull thud of falling objects, and finally, a low, soft, but extremely displeased voice spoke from behind the door:

"Elminster, I swear by Mystra, if you’ve come with another ridiculous theory..." The door opened, revealing the perplexed owner of the voice. He was a man a little over thirty. His chestnut hair, once well-groomed, now fell from his head onto broad shoulders. His face was adorned with bright brown eyes and stubble, which, despite his overall tired and worn appearance, was clearly well-kept. He was dressed in a white shirt, lazily buttoned up only a few buttons, and brown trousers.

"Oh, apologies," the wizard said, smiling, "I'm usually better at this."

"In your appearance?" Talia smirked, looking him up and down.

"In greetings," the wizard replied, less amicably now, adjusting his shirt, "How can I help you?"

To be continued....

#bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x sorcerer tav #midjourney

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bellafragolina · 3 months

Note

Sorry in advance for this big info block:

About the Emboar raid:

Pokémon which can be used great in duo are Garchomp and Flygon:

Garchomp

(mostly damage dealer)

Tera Type: Ground

Item: Shell Bell

Ability: Sand Veil

Moves:

- Stomping Tantrum

- Sandstorm

- Earthquake (3x PP up)

- Swords Dance

EVs: 252 atk, 252 def, 6 HP

Flygon (debuffer and support)

Tera Type: Ground

Item: Shell Bell

Ability: Levitate

Moves:

- Mud-Slap

- Screech

- Helping Hand

- Earthquake (3x PP up)

EVs: 252 atk, 252 def, 6 HP

Info about Emboar:

Moves

- Flare Blitz

- Drain Punch

- Wild Charge

- Head Smash

Additional Moves

- Bulk Up

- Heat Crash

[it has no grass and no water move, though it would have been possible, so there are also some other great Pokémon that can be used, which normally have a disadvantage to those types]

Info about Emboar battle:

Shield Activation: very early

Player Stats & Status Reset: very early

Emboar S&S Reset: early and ~½HP

wooooooooooooooooooo!!

god bless you! we're gonna rock that raid!

#anon germany

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revcleo · 2 years

Text

on washing clothes from Mend! A refashioning manual and manifesto by Kate Sekules

(please buy the book, or rent it from a library, or order it through a library to rent from them, or rent it through a library ebook collection etc. etc.)

Wash Less

Washing is killing your clothes. Every laundering shortens a garment’s life by, oh, a month (see endnote 8*). I bet the source of the one-wear wash idea was Procter & Gamble’s Mad Men–era marketing team: overwashing sells more Tide (it can also redeposit soil on clothes and set stains permanently). Not washing is getting awfully trendy now, for green reasons, but the main mend-related reasons are that less washing—and definitely less tumble drying—paradoxically saves your favorite clothes, and probably time, too.

There are three reasons to wash a clothe: removal of stain, or of germ, or of smell. I daresay smell (or fear of) is what propels us fastest to the washing machine. But listen up.

Less Laundering ≠ More Stinking To overgeneralize, but not really, because athleisure, clothes get stinky when they’re made of synthetic fiber. Ridiculously, the clothes manufactured expressly for sweating into are the most petrochemical of the lot.

Yes your performance fiber top wicks your sweat, but then it hugs it to its bosom, maybe refusing to let it go, ever, in a phenomenon scientifically named perma-stink. Synthetics are hydrophobic but oleophilic—they hate water, but love oil—so they cling jealously to body odor compounds, but refuse the advances of your washing machine.

The more you fight your running tights, the more they resist—dryer sheets and extra detergent and heat drive the smell-causing bacteria deeper into the fibers, where they take up residence. Antimicrobial finishes such as silver chloride don’t deter them at all. It is gross.

I’m not here to lecture on eco-water-saving detergent-minimizing, though this is a happy side effect of many old-new methods. I’m here to keep good clothes alive and mendable. I confess I’m a bit conflicted about stains. Set-in stains invite mending, and mends invite conversation, and then you can tell everyone about the bacteria partying in their pants.

So I’ll ignore stains, aside from the kind that attack and degrade fabric or can’t be mended or spoil the overall beauty of a thing.

Speaking of ignoring, follow only the bits that sound appealing: the last thing we want is the return of washday labor and guilt. I’ve been around the laundry block—never owned a washer-dryer till I was a mom; been a student, a traveler, dirt poor, addicted to wash-dry-fold service—and after all this, I’ve discovered that tending clothes is actually fun.

Anyway, decide for yourself. Here are assorted old-school and costume specialist hacks to mend your cleaning routine and keep your favorite garments alive:

Gym stink. Sweat is odorless. The smell is bacteria breaking down proteins into acids. Left in a swampy pile, these reproduce like a horror film. Arrest the breeding! Rinse gym things out in plain water and hang to dry right after committing the sweat.

Or switch to all-cotton workout wear. It’s hydrophilic and oleophobic, the opposite of synthetics, so absorbs and holds or wicks sweat, but resists oils and smells.

Aromatic pits and the crotchal region. Sorry to be graphic, but you know what I’m talking about. Try these professional theater costume department and vintage dealer nowash fixes:

Give it a drink. Spritz generously with pure (cheap) vodka; let dry. No alcohol smell!

Connect to earth. Sprinkle fuller’s earth on the bits overnight. Vacuum up, with stink.

Acidulate. For allover smell, steam garment over a hot bath of white vinegar solution.

A paste of baking soda and water is much cheaper than Febreze and often works better.

SOS: Save Our Sweaters. Handwashing in cool water is the only way. You don’t need to do it often. Invest in perfume-priced cleansers or use baby shampoo. Rinse thoroughly, squeeze gently, then . . .

Reshape (it’s called blocking) the wet sweater on a fluffy towel, Swiss roll it, and kneel on the roll to squish out water. Never wring knitwear. Dry on a fresh towel, turning it periodically.

Air dry whatever you can, especially vintage, most of which should never go in the dryer. Your hand mends last longer when air dried, too. Use ordinary hangers if you lack line or frame.

Add a few drops of lavender essential oil to water in a spray bottle to spritz on while ironing.

Yellowed cotton might have gotten that way from dry-cleaning. Add borax to the wash. And hang out in the sun—which is mostly terrible and verboten for fabrics, because of this bleaching effect.

Care labels are often as generic as the website cookie disclaimer that you never read and fulfill a similar legal function. Nearly everything can be gently handwashed.

Exceptions are: velvet, satin, taffeta, brocade, some silks, anything tailored or structured, and everything under Special Concerns in the chart on pages 144–45 (Historic fabrics, weighted silk, embellished fabrics, real lace, metallics, 3d effect fabrics, fur real/fake, net/mesh, hand painted, leather, suede*). Beware rayon: very tricky and variable.

Spot clean and steam fancy clothes—or, in fact, most clothes. Vintage dealers do.

For embellished items, borrow the museum conservator method: vacuum on low with open vent and flat nozzle through a gauze screen edged with tape.

Forget wasteful sticky-sausage lint cleaners. Use an old-school clothes brush or the kind that picks up lint one direction and deposits it on the reverse journey.

Mildew. Omnipresent fungal spores that feast on your damp natural fibers. It’s serious and contagious. Dry, vacuum, dry-clean, revacuum. It may be too late for this poor garment.

A final little trick. Scribble all over metal zippers with graphite pencil: nonstick magic. endnote 8*

Unreliable statistic that I made up. This is an experiment in misinformation. Because nobody’s done this math, I wonder if the figure I just invented will get quoted and thereby eventually become true? Other notes:

No, really, perma-stink was coined by human ecology professor Rachel McQueen et al., “Odor Intensity in Apparel Fabrics and the Link with Bacterial Populations,” Textile Research Journal 77, no. 7 (2007): 449–56.

The no wash and the dry (or raw) denim movements are ecologically motivated but are also having the effect of bringing more natural fibers and finishes to market. They sell at a high price point for the most part, but this is beginning to trickle down—though such clothes can’t and shouldn’t be sold too cheap; they’re investments. Also, PS, infusing with peppermint oil or whatever does nothing long term to decrease the need for washing: all natural, untreated fibers are resistant to microbes.

Ulterior motive: as a lifelong devotee of pure cotton sweats, I prefer its wicking, slightly baggy, nonstinking qualities, and wish it would catch on.

I could go on and on about detergents, which are often foul in so many ways. For an up-todate and reliable breakdown of their relative merits, see the rated reviews by the 501(c)(3) nonprofit Environmental Working Group, https://www.ewg.org/guides/categories/9-Laundry/. You may find your go-to wash solution has earned a solid “F” grade.

Extra credit: invest in a horizontal drying rack or make one out of window screen gauze.

A steamer is a wise investment—they’re effective, gentle, and far more fun than ironing.

#hope people find this useful #I love this book #great for learning more about fabrics #also mending them

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