#but damn. i'm just a slow-fuckin-poke.

[strang3lov3]

Everyday I'm Shufflin'

Joel Miller x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel is shocked, horrified, disgusted, and absolutely appalled to learn you, an adult, cannot shuffle a deck of cards. He makes it his mission to teach you in a rather unconventional way 😈🔥😍 

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smutttt, kind of soft dom! Joel (y’all know the fuckin drill, but this is like the softest soft dom), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, undefined age gap, unprotected PIV sex, Joel is a sweetie honestly, loosely proofread bc I was so excited to get it out to you guys.

Word Count: 6k (oops)

A/N: Dumb title I know…but listen ladies…I was playing Gin Rummy with my man a few nights ago and he tried to teach me how to shuffle a deck of cards. I have never been so turned on watching him do something so simple. His hands were so skillful, his voice was so smooth and comfortinggggg

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How you learned to shuffle a deck of cards was rather…unorthodox. To say the least. 

It started with a game of Gin Rummy. 

Joel read once long ago that when shuffling a deck of cards, it is statistically more than likely that the particular order of shuffled cards never existed before and will never exist again. 

Joel had played enough games of Solitaire by himself and shuffled enough cards over the past twenty-odd years that he was sure he beat that statistic. What else is there to do when you’re bored as shit in the apocalypse?

It was safe to say Joel was more than sick of Solitaire. So one morning at breakfast, he invited you to join him for a few games of cards. Nothin’ fancy, he said. 

You said yes, of course. Joel Miller was distant, reserved. Standoffish, even. But he seemed to have a soft spot for you.

He noticed you sitting alone at dinner about a year and a half ago. He was alone too, Ellie usually ate with Dina. She was too cool for him, he guessed. You looked quite a few years younger than him and looked bored and lonely, nudging and poking at the food on your plate. It made him feel sad. 

The next day, you were alone again. And the day after. And the day after that. On day five when he found you sitting alone, he decided to make his move. Instead of going to his usual spot at the end of the banquet tables, he sat across from you. 

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in confusion. “Can I help you?”

He didn’t think it through. He had no idea what to say, no idea how to make conversation. How to explain why he was sitting there.  “I just, uh. My juvenile delinquent ditched me. Just wanted some company. I’m sorry, this was dumb,” his voice was gruff and low as he reached for his plate and began to stand up. “I’ll leave ya alone.”

“No, no. Stay,” you corrected yourself. “I didn’t mean to come off rude or anything, you just surprised me. Joel, right? Tommy’s brother?”

He nodded yes. You gave him your name and held out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Joel,”

“You as well, darlin’,” he took your hand in his and gave it a firm shake. His hand was warm and calloused.

And that’s how it started. You hit it off completely. Conversation was slow and awkward at first, but eventually it began to flow naturally. Joel was older, but the type of person you could talk to for hours. Like when you talk about your favorite food or movie and hours later you’re laughing about something random and obscure, and you wonder to yourself how you even ended up on that subject. You met for breakfast and dinner every day. 

“So I’ve got a proposal for you, darlin’,” he said, taking a bite of his buttered toast. 

“Pray tell, Mr. Miller!” you requested, a curious tone in your voice. 

“I’m sick of solitaire. Been playin’ it every damn day for too long now. Come over for cards tonight?”

You paused, pressing your lips in a thin line. Card games weren’t really your thing. You remember Tommy and Maria and how they tried to teach you euchre a while back. It didn’t end well, you left with a migraine and no understanding of how to play euchre. But there were a few games you enjoyed. “Depends. It’s not euchre, is it?”

“Nope. That’s four players, sweetheart,” he informed. 

“Poker? Because I don’t know that one either,”

Joel rolled his eyes. He’d have to teach you that one sometime. “No, not poker,” he chuckled when you let out a sigh of relief. “Tell you what, we’ll do any game you want. I’m just sick of playin’ with myself,'' Joel balked, then winced at his poor word choice. He absolutely did not mean to say that. 

Your eyes widened in amusement at his silly word mishap. Now that must be a sight for sore eyes, Joel playing with himself. You tried to push the image out of your mind, but it was nearly impossible. You spent many nights with your hand between your thighs, picturing Joel naked and moaning on top of you. Or under you. Or behind you. Sometimes all three. The truth was, you needed Joel badly. Like, desperately. “Tired of playing with yourself, huh?” you teased with a smile and a playful glint in your eyes.

Joel pouted, the slightest tint of rosiness blooming on his cheeks. You idiot, he scolded himself silently. “Shut up, smartass. Are you comin’ over or not?”

“Duh. Ellie gonna be there?” 

“Probably not. It’ll be just us, most likely. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled. Finally, real alone time with Joel. Maybe tonight you could make your move. You hoped that Joel thought about you too. You caught his lingering stares, picked up on his cautious flirting. He could be so sweet and so charming, it had to be because he liked you too, right? But he was from Texas, so maybe it was just his southern gentlemanliness. Either way, it was worth a shot. 

“Let’s meet here for dinner like usual, and then we can go over to my place. That work?”

You smiled and nodded, trying to keep cool. Excitement was bubbling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Then it’s a date,” 

A date!!

After breakfast, you went home and spent most of the day picking out a cute outfit for the evening. You went through nearly every piece of clothing in your possession, eventually settling for your favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and a zip up hoodie. Casual.

Dinner came and went as normal. Joel was dressed as his usual self. A dark red flannel and some jeans that hugged his ass a little too nicely. You shared a good conversation, and when you finished eating, Joel took your dishes away and then met you at the door. 

You walked side by side until you got to his home. It was cozy and inviting, Ellie’s drawings displayed prominently on the walls. Little tchotchkes and knick knacks here and there. A few old pictures, old books and magazines. His weathered deck of Bicycle playing cards sat in the middle of the dining room table. 

Joel pulled out a seat for you and brought you a glass of water. He sat right next to you on the other side of the table. “So,” he started, reaching for the deck. He split the cards in two, braced his fingers along their sides and ran his thumbs from bottom to top. The cards fell in a swift and staggering motion. Effortlessly, he brought the cards up and bent them into an arch, letting them fall. “What card game we playin?”

“I was thinking we could play Gin Rummy?” you asked sweetly.

“Good choice,” he replied. He had some other games in mind, but couldn’t say no to your request. Joel dealt the cards expertly, quickly placing ten cards each in front of yourselves. The thwap thwap thwap of the cards hitting the table was such a pleasant noise. You loved how skillfully he moved his hands. 

You brought your cards to yourself, doing your best to sort them into different groups. Unfortunately, Joel gave you the shittiest hand he possibly could have. This would be a swift game, you assumed. Joel snickered when he sorted his cards. By the looks of it, he already had the beginnings of a few good sets and melds. “Gonna kick your ass, darlin’,”

You grumbled in response. Joel flipped the first card up, motioning for you to make your choice. You couldn’t do much with it, so you passed. Joel took it, then discarded one of his own. You were right. The game went by quickly. Within minutes of playing, Joel showed you his hand. He had, in fact, kicked your ass. He was smiling and giggling and bragging, almost how a child would. You loved the way his eyes sparkled and the crinkles that framed them just so. He was too handsome for his own good.

He took your cards and placed them neatly in with the rest of the deck, then placed the deck in front of you. “Your turn to deal. We’re playin’ again,”

“Good. It’s about time I deal. You gave me the crappiest hand you possibly could’ve!” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. I purposely gave you a shitty hand because I need to rig the game in order to win. Or maybe I’m just better than you,” he taunted with a smile. He could be such a sarcastic prick at times. You rolled your eyes in response and Joel pointed to the cards. “Deal for me now, sweetheart.” 

This is when all hell broke loose. 

You took the cards in your hand, doing an awkward shuffle. Moving some cards sporadically here and there and mixing them on the table. It wasn’t the prettiest way to shuffle cards, but it worked. Right?

No, not right. Not according to Joel. 

His jaw dropped, eyes squinted and his brow furrowed. He is completely and utterly appalled. Disgusted. Horrified. Offended. “What the fuck is the matter with you? What are you doing to my cards?!”

You stopped your actions. “What?” you asked worriedly.

“My cards! That’s how you’re shufflin’ them? Is this some kind of joke?” his southern accent intensified with his anger.

You looked down at his cards. None were bent or damaged in any way. “Joel, it’s fine,” you chided. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, it is not fine. You mean to tell me this is how you shuffle cards?”

“Yeah, so?” Joel scoffed. “Unacceptable,” he takes the cards from you, huffing and puffing as he sorts them into a neat stack. “You’re an adult. Do it the right way.”

You give it your best shot. Trying to picture the way he shuffled, you mimic his finger placement and drop the cards, sliding your thumbs along the top edges. They don’t stagger nicely, however. They kind of plop on top of each other in groups. 

Joel sighs in disappointment. He takes them from you in a sharp motion. “Give me those,” he grumbles. “You don’t know how to shuffle?” You shake your head no. “Gonna teach you, then.”

He splits the deck in two, then faces the cards so they’re mirroring each other, just like before. “Like this, darlin’,” he starts. “You place your pinkie, middle, and ring fingers at the far end. Pointer is bent at the knuckle on top, thumbs at the close end,” He shows you his hand placement, turning the cards so you can see all angles. “See?”

Joel is rambling about hand placement and how to move your thumbs. But you can’t help it. You’re practically salivating watching him move his fingers so skillfully. As he’s explaining how to slide your thumbs slowly up the cards, you’re picturing his thumb on your hot center, slowly sliding up your folds. 

“You try now,” he sets the deck down in front of you. 

Shit. You can’t remember a thing about what he told you. He helps you move your fingers properly and you freeze, your brain is short circuiting. His fingers are pure electricity on top of yours. 

You take a breath and try again. Somehow, it’s worse than before. 

“No, like this,” Joel takes the cards and begins rambling about the cards again. Now you’re watching his middle three fingers, wondering how they would feel inside you. How would they stretch you, how would they move? He’s so fucking good at this. It turns you on. 

Joel says something, but you don’t answer. He looks at you, noticing your glazed eyes. You’re on another planet. “Are you even listening to me?” “What?” he breaks your trance. You meet his eyes, his eyebrows are raised and he looks rather irritated with you. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you smile sheepishly.

“What’d I say?”

“You said,” you begin, trailing off when you can’t think of a good lie. He caught you, you weren’t listening at all. You couldn’t repeat a single one of his instructions.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Joel’s words are bitter and he feels upset. He thought this would be a nice way to spend some alone time with you, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about tonight. It’s jarring, he didn’t expect this from you and it stings him. 

“No! Of course not, Joel. I’m sorry,” Oops. Probably shouldn’t have been fantasizing about what his fingers could do to you. Rookie mistake, that’s the first rule of learning to shuffle a deck of cards! Never fantasize about your teacher’s fingers! 

“Then what is it?”

You hem and haw, rattling off whatever you can think of to answer him. He’s not satisfied and you can see it. His brow is flat and he wears a frown of disappointment.  

“Quit lyin’. If you’re bored, just say so. Won’t hurt my feelings,” Lies. Joel’s heart is crumbling at the thought of you being bored of game night. He’d actually been planning on inviting you for a while, and finally gathered the courage today. 

 “I’m having fun with you,” you stammer for a second, “I promise.”

“Yeah. Seems like it,”

You groan and bury your head in your hands. There’s no way out of this. You have to tell him what’s really going on. “Fine, Joel. You want the truth?”

“Yes, I do. Enlighten me,” he deadpans. 

“Fine,” you inhale and close your eyes, mentally preparing for the humiliation you’re about to inflict upon yourself. “Your fingers. Your hands. The way you move, the way you’re so good at this. It’s sexy, okay? I can’t fucking focus.”

Joel’s in disbelief that he heard you correctly. When the words finally register, a smirk curls up on his lips. He feels a little guilty for accusing you of not caring. But then again, he never would have thought shuffling cards would be a turn on for a woman. Poor thing, he thinks. You’re not bored, you’re just hot and bothered. It’s no wonder you can’t focus. “You think I’m sexy?”

You stare at the cards, avoiding his stare. God, this is embarrassing. “Yeah, of course,”

“Of course, huh?” he taunts you with a shit eating grin. “My fingers are gettin’ you all worked up, is that right?”

You finally build the courage to look up. There’s no animosity or malice in his gaze, just amusement. Your confidence is beginning to return. “That’s right,” you reply with a whisper. 

“Wow. My fingers gettin’ you all hot and bothered and I’ve never even touched you,” he teases. “That’s what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours? You’re thinkin’ about me touchin’ you?”

You nod. “How could I not? I always do,”

“Oh darlin’, how you flatter me,” He pauses, thinking. Joel gets a twisted idea then, and places the cards in front of you. “Tell you what, sweet thing. You shuffle those cards real nice for me, I’ll use my fingers on you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Joel, please,” you rasp out. You took the scenic route to get there, but the night is finally headed in the direction you had hoped for. 

Joel makes it look so easy. Just focus a little harder, and you’ll do it. You split the deck in two, mirror the cards, place your fingers properly, and–

Plop plop. Plop. 

The deck splits in large chunks with a few single cards falling near the end. You exhale in frustration.

“Come on now, sweetheart. You want me to touch you, right?” Joel’s wearing a twisted smirk, so smug and cocky. “What’re you screwin’ around for?”

Joel loves teasing his partners, he loves building up tension so palpable that it could be sliced with a knife. 

You glare at him. You’ll show him. It can’t be that fucking hard to shuffle a damn deck of cards. You repeat the shuffling motion, failing again.

You grunt at the deck of cards, wishing you could make them burst into flames. You try again, and fail. Yet again. 

You try again. Fail.

And again. Fail.

And again. Fail. 

Focusing is becoming increasingly difficult with the throbbing growing stronger at the apex of your thighs. 

You huff indignantly, slamming the cards on the table. “Fuck this,”

“Hey, now. If you’d’ve just listened to me you’d get it right by now,” Joel steps out of his chair and hovers behind you, then motions for you to begin again. He places his hands over yours, separating them a little. “Hands are too close together, darlin’. That’s why the cards aren’t falling right. Now try.”

You steady your breath, focusing on the cards. You slide your thumbs up the edges slowly and watch the cards stagger perfectly. The pitter patter of each card hitting the other is the most beautiful and relieving sound you’ve ever heard. You gasp, amazed that you finally did it. 

Joel opens his mouth to praise you, but you interrupt him by practically leaping out of your chair and into his arms. Without thinking, you grab his face and press your lips to his, kissing him hard and fast. Your lips slide sloppily against his and your teeth click together every so often. 

Your hands leave his face and furiously unbutton your jeans and you grab his hand, shoving it down the front of your pants. You moan when his fingers reach your center. 

Joel’s instinct is to tease you some more, but you’ve done that to yourself enough already. It’s evident by the river flowing between your thighs. You gasp when drags his middle and ring fingers up and down your seam. 

“You poor thing,” he whispers into your lips. “Fuckin’ needed this, hm?”

You don’t answer him, you can’t. You just whimper into his mouth. His strong nose presses against your cheek and his lips are soft against yours. His calloused fingers paint steady circles against your clit and his other arm is around your waist, holding you tightly against him. He can feel your knees beginning to buckle and he relishes in the way you’re unraveling, just for him. 

He parts from you and removes his hand from your pussy. You let out a cry of frustration at the loss. “I know, darlin’,” he sympathizes.

 He sits on his chair and pulls you close to him by your hips, then tugs your jeans down your thighs. He motions for you to take them off the rest of the way and then guides you to sit in his lap, your back flush against his chest. He pushes his hand down the front of your panties and returns it to your pussy, circling your clit once more before pushing two fingers inside your wet heat, curling upwards and hitting the spot that makes your thighs tremble. His hot breath tickles your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. “Did so good, baby. So good for me,” 

A strangled moan gets caught in your throat. His fingers feel incredible, stretching you out and pressing into you. 

He loves the wet squelching sound of your pussy, he loves the way your head is resting on his shoulder, your lips pressing into his neck as you whimper sweet nothings into his skin. His other arm is wrapped tight around your body and he squeezes your breasts in his big hand, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. “God, you don’t take much at all do you? So sensitive, just for me,”

His cock is hard beneath you, poking through his jeans and into your back. He desperately wants to be touched, wants to take this further and fuck you hard and deep. But not yet. 

“Joel, I want more now,” you whine, feeling heat deep in the pit of your stomach. 

“You want to come now, sweetheart? Come all over my fingers?” he nudges your thighs farther apart and you open up deeper for him. He removes his hand from your breasts and trails it down your body, beginning gentle circles on your clit while the fingers on his other hand continue curling into you. 

“Please,” you cry. You’re so noisy, he’s thankful you’re screaming into his bad ear. 

“‘Course, baby. You can let go. It’s okay,” he coos. If only you could see his devilish smirk and know what twisted idea he’s conjuring up in his head. 

With his permission, you let yourself go. Your face and chest flush and your muscles squeeze around his fingers erratically. “Fuck, fuck, Joel,” you moan.  Joel continues his work on your pussy as you ride out your high. It’s a delicate orgasm, soft and gentle. It feels wonderful, but you need more. 

With shallow breaths, you compose yourself and turn to face him. You press kisses to his lips and his jaw and down his throat. Then, on your knees, you reach for his belt buckle. 

“What d'ya think you’re doin’, sweetheart?” he questioned you, his voice taunting and playful. He grabs your hands and holds them tightly to stop you. 

“What do you mean? I’m going down on you,” you reply, baffled by his question. “Then we’re gonna fuck.”

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. “No we’re not.”

“We’re not?”

“No. I never said I’d fuck you. I told you I’d use my fingers on you,” Of course, he knew you thought this would go farther. But Joel revels in teasing a woman, making her beg and cry for him before finally giving in. 

You scoff in disdain. “But I wanted more,” you complain. 

“I know you did, baby. If you want my cock, you have to work for it. You didn’t shuffle the cards right,” he tells you plainly, as if it was so obvious. “Shuffle the cards right and I’ll fuck you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Yes, I did. You watched me,”

“I did watch you, and you didn’t do it right. Have to finish with the bridge fall, sweetheart. Or else you’ll bend my cards and I’ll be real upset with you,” he explains, feigning sympathy for you. “I’d have to punish you. And you really don’t want that, baby. So why don’t you be a good girl now, shuffle those cards the right way so I can fuck you real nice, just how you wanted.” his voice is dark and low and serious, you love the gravelly rumble coming from deep in his chest. “Do that for me?”

You love the threat. One day you’ll have to bend his cards, just to see what he’d do to you. But you have bigger concerns at the present moment. 

You take a step back to your seat and sit, the cold wood of your chair is refreshing on the hot and sweaty skin of your thighs. You grab the deck, separate it, and take a deep breath in and let it out. You move your hands apart just a touch, just as Joel instructed earlier. And you let the cards fall into place. 

With your hands now holding the shuffled cards, you try your best to maneuver them into falling into place. It doesn’t go as planned, the cards flop backwards and scatter all over the table. 

Joel bites back a smile, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Havin’ trouble?”

“No. I can do it,” 

You try again. Split the deck, run your thumbs up the edge of the cards and–

The cards fall in chunky groups, not quite the elegant shuffle Joel was looking for. Oops. Fucked that one up. Not to worry, you’ll just try again. 

This time you shuffle correctly, attempt the bridge fall once more and fail. Again. You hear the clink of Joel’s belt buckle fall and watch him unzip his pants and pull out his cock. It’s hard and the tip is blushed as he begins to stroke himself. “Better get it together, darlin’. I’m gettin’ tired of waiting on you,” 

You glare at him silently. 

You steady yourself and try again. And fail. Fucking again. Joel lets out a low whistle and spits into his hand, then brings it to his cock again. His fist is moving up and down his shaft and he shrugs at you, as if to say ‘Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t help it’. This is a delightfully unique change of pace, he thinks. He’s not doing a thing to work you up, your pleasure and release is all dependent on yourself alone.

Alright. Once more, this time with feeling. 

Fail.

You try and try and try again, failing each time. Your fingers are exhausted and your palms are sweaty, causing you to slip up. And Joel’s sitting there, playing with his cock and not saying a thing. You’re so beyond irritated, completely tired of this torturous bullshit. Tears of frustration well in your eyes and spill out and down your cheeks. This is fucking agonizing. You ignore your tears, hoping that if you don’t acknowledge them Joel won’t either. You try again. Nothing. You let out a cry in dissatisfaction.

“I know, baby. You’re tryin’ so hard,” Joel whispered earnestly. You just let out a dry laugh. “You are,” he continued. “Take a deep breath, focus for me. You got it.”

You shuffle the cards, set up the arch. “Easy, now. Lift up one thumb, let the cards fall. You can do it, baby,”

You do as you’re told, lifting up your left thumb slowly. You can’t believe your eyes as you watch the spill neatly into each other. Fucking finally.

You drop the cards and let them scatter slightly on the table. In a rush, you leap to Joel and drop to your knees, not even caring about the way the hard floor makes your knees ache. You swat his hand away from his cock and part your lips over the tip, feeling him slide past your tongue and down your throat. 

In your fantasies, you’d tease him with your tongue a little. Make him want you, need you. But not here, not now. You’re hungry for his cock and want to waste no time with him. You savor the way his cock feels so smooth and soft in your mouth, the slightly salty flavor of his skin. It’s all so…Joel. 

Even Joel was surprised by how eager you were. He gasped when you took him into his mouth, but quickly relaxed as you began your pace. You gripped his denim clad thigh in one hand and brought the other to the base of his length, twisting and pumping it as you bobbed your head. You hummed and moaned against him. 

“Wow, darlin’. Someone’s excited,” he mumbles. 

You look at him with big doe eyes and offer a wink in response. Joel lets you continue for a while more. He loves how enthusiastic you are, sucking and stroking him like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do. It brings him close to the edge. 

He taps your cheek a couple times, encouraging you to hop off of him. Your lips are puffy and red, spit dribbling down your chin. He grabs you by your arms and shoves you against the table, then pushes the cards out of the way. You watch and giggle as they clatter on the ground in a big mess. He was so protective of those same cards before, so offended at how you touched them. Now they sat in disarray on the ground. “Your cards,” you breathed with concern. 

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, pulling your panties down your thighs and pushing your back onto the table. He knelt before you and draped your legs over his shoulders, loving the way they weighed him down. “Let me taste you, please,” he rasped out. You nodded hurriedly. Joel wasted no time, hungrily licking and kissing your folds. He lapped at you, pressed his tongue flat against your center and dragged it over your sensitive skin. He loved how you tasted, how you made a mess of his mustache and his beard. He pointed his tongue and flicked at your clit as he brought two fingers to your core, scissoring and twisting and stretching you out. 

It felt amazing, so intense and pleasurable. But you had been waiting so long for his cock already and it’s all you could think about. You pushed Joel away from your body and tore off the rest of your clothes as he followed suit. He looked gorgeous, tan skin and oh so smooth. He wasn’t very hairy, you noticed. Just a tuft of coarse hair at the base of his cock and a little happy trail leading down to it. His muscles were soft and lightly defined, you loved the little swell of his tummy. “You’re beautiful,” you whispered. “Need you to fuck me now.”

Joel cocked his head slightly at your compliment. No one had ever called him beautiful before. You were such a genuinely lovely person. He smiled sweetly at you before kissing you, closing the gap between your nude bodies. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby. Wish I told you earlier,” he purred. “I’ll fuck you now. You did so good, baby. So proud of you.”

With that, Joel lined his hard cock up to your soaked entrance and pushed inside. Slowly, being sure not to go too hard or too fast. He watched your face, the way your eyes fell shut and your mouth dropped open. He stopped once he was about halfway inside of you. “How am I doin’, darlin’?”

“Please fuck me,” you begged. You appreciated his gentle care, how he wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You’d expect nothing less than the illustrious southern gentleman. But you’ve been waiting long enough with the prospect of being fucked by Joel Miller. Fuck sweet lovings, you needed to be fucked. To be used, like a toy. “Now.” you demanded.

It’s all the permission Joel needed. He slammed his hips into yours and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping his tight muscles. Your hands wandered down his back and settled on his ass. You squeezed the soft flesh beneath your fingers and let out moan after moan. 

Joel loved how vocal you were. Telling him what you needed, how you needed it. He loved the pretty noises you made, all for him. No one else. Not anymore, at least. You were his now and would be forever. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted between breaths. “Feels so good.” Joel’s head dipped down to your chest and he kissed and nipped at the soft skin of your breasts, tonguing your nipples and loving how you shuddered at his touch. “Good, baby,” he said. “You deserve it.”

You did deserve it, after all. He made you work like a fucking dog for it. 

Joel fucked you at a steady pace, comfortable for both of you. He asked you what felt good, what you needed. How he could make it better. “Tell me what I can do, sweetheart,”

There were no improvements to be made. Everything about Joel was second to none, his cock, the way he moved, the way he held you. He fucked you perfectly, just how you needed. “Nothing, just,” you squinted your eyes shut and searched your brain for words, finding it difficult to piece any together. “Just keep fucking me like this. Maybe a little harder, please.”

Joel was a provider. A lady as beautiful as yourself, asking for more? It’d be a sin to deprive you of what you needed. So Joel obliged, picking up the pace and hitting you deeper. “Just like that, Jesus, fuck. Just like that, baby.”

Baby. Joel loved that term of endearment. He wasn’t used to being called any sweet nicknames, usually he was the one who’d dole them out. Not just to anyone, only to those closest to himself. It’s why he called you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ so often. 

He liked being the object of your affection. “Keep callin’ me that, please,” he requested, his voice shy and low. He was so tough and domineering just moments ago, and now he was bashful and vulnerable, all because of one little word. Baby. 

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Wanted this for so long,” you whimpered, holding onto him tightly. You’d abandon his name completely and call him ‘baby’ for the rest of your lives, if he asked you to. 

“God, sweetheart. Me too,” he grunted. 

Joel couldn’t last much longer. He let out groans and strangled out moans as his pace became sloppy. “Let me make you come,” he begged. He wriggled his hand between your bodies, placing his thumb on your clit. He held a firm pressure to the sensitive bud and moved it in concise circles, pushing you closer and closer to your release. 

You let out a throaty moan as you felt your climax begin to bubble up inside you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m right there.”

Joel just kept doing what he was doing. Circles on your clit and fucking you deep, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. Your moans turned frantic and you cried out his name, over and over again, like a prayer. Your orgasm was much more intense than the last one, it sent electricity all through your body. You felt tingles and sparks wash over you, from your scalp all through your fingertips, down all the way to your toes. It was the best orgasm any lover of yours had ever blessed you with. 

Joel felt your body shudder around him, felt your pussy convulse and squeeze his cock. His thrusts became harder, faster, and frenzied as he chased his own climax. You watched his eyes screw shut and little drops of sweat fall down his temples as he let out a deep moan. His cock pulsed inside you, painting you with his hot seed. 

He let out a laugh then, between panting breaths. He pulled you in for a hug, his skin hot and slick with sweat. Head pressed to his heaving chest, you could feel his heartbeat in your ear. Your new favorite feeling. 

Joel pulled away from you, kissed you sweetly and helped you clean up. You pulled on your clothes and sat neatly at the table, picking up and sorting out the disheveled cards. Joel did the same, he bent down next to you and gathered the cards on the ground. 

He placed them in front of you, left for a second with your empty glasses, and returned with the glasses of water refilled before sitting in his seat again. How you didn’t knock them over during your fucking, you had no idea.

“Alright, baby. Show me how you shuffle now,” he grinned at you. He wanted to make sure his unorthodox method of teaching you actually worked. 

You smiled back, split the deck in two and mirrored them for the nth time that evening,  and then placed your fingers along the two decks. You slid your thumbs up the cards, watched one fall on top of the other, and brought the cards back up into a nice arch. With a breath, you let off one thumb and let the cards fall down slowly. You sighed in relief. Your maneuver wasn’t quite as smooth as Joel’s, but there was plenty of time to practice. 

You dealt out ten cards each, gathered your hand and did your best to hide a smirk. You held a three, four, and six of clubs, three kings, and two jacks. 

Joel sighs disappointedly at his hand. You couldn’t have dealt him worse cards. Nothing went with anything. 

The two of you exchanged cards quietly, as if you didn’t just desecrate Joel’s dining room table. It was quite funny, really.

The game was quick, just like before. You placed your sets and melds in front of him. “Read it and weep,” you jeer.

Joel grumbles something about cheating and steals your cards. “Rematch,” he says. “Loser gives the winner head.”

“Deal,”

Tags: @swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze

[fsuna]

MODERN LOVE SONGS

⊹ ⋆˚ 𓏲 – minors dni. fem!reader. heavy smut. cucking. cheating. slight voyeurism. daddy kink. unprotected sex. oral (m & f). pussy talking. fingers in a-hole. consensual recording. not proofread. just random song lyrics + hq boys <3 masterlist. tokyo rev version otw.

wakatoshi. bokuto. osamu. atsumu. sakusa. suna. kenma. kuroo.

WAKATOSHI

"never thought i'd leave my kids until i left them in her mouth,"

toshis above you trailing breathless curses as he watches you suck him off threw his lashes- jaw painfully aching as you blow his big dick while he keeps a hand on the back of your head, fingertips coiling within your loose hair. a pinkish hue blushes across his cheeks while your mouth slowly invites his whole length in your throat, the button of your nose nuzzling against his pubs.

your eyes are watery from the countless times his swollen tip had poked at the back of your mouth, spit escaping out from the corners of your lips to run down to his balls. a laugh so sinful that can make you cum untouched from beneath your panties exits from toshi once he notices your signature glittery lip gloss smeared all over the base of his cock and your pigmented mascara plastered past your under eyes.

“such a doll, suckin’ my dick so motherfuckin’ good- missed getting your faced fucked, didn’t you?”

his cock begins to twitch against the walls of your tight throat, panting and swearing nonstop till he’s cumming all up in your mouth, warm semen brimming over to both your lips and chin giving him the best fucking sight he has ever seen.

BOKUTO

"yeah i heard she got surgery, still wanna clap from the back just to see if her ass soft,"

raw dogs pussy from the back like it's the first time he's in one since the day he came out of one every. fucking. time. bo has your kneecaps dug deep in his king sized mattress- the tainted sounds of skin smacking plug your ears as he keeps a strong hand latched on your hip, rocking your lower back and forward against his pungent thrust. he's a tease too, you know- placing his two thumbs over your asshole to maul the nub just so he can feel your wet pussy clench and throb, his fat heavy balls slapping off your ass.

he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken. gosh his dicks so fucking huge, it’s like he gets even bigger every time you see him, but it makes you so wet. so wet you don’t even need to use any form of lubricant for him to stuff you up.

and now he's fucked you so damn stupid that the strength to talk has vanished for you- firm hands setting painful slaps on your naked ass before squeezing it sorely, making sure you'll be able to feel the flaming sensation his gigantic palms left on your bum for the next few days whenever you try to sit. you love it though- in love with how he stretches you out, making you feel so fucking full.

“yeah, you love that, don’t ya, pretty baby? ‘bouta fill this pussy up cause daddy knows that’s what ya want,”

SAKUSA

"you can call her phone and i'll probably answer,”

to him, the timing of this phone call couldn't have been more perfect- knowing you're so so close by the way your velvety walls pulsate against his hard cock on repeat.

“pick it up, baby. your man's callin' you. don't wanna ignore him now do we?”

a real meanie. takes it upon himself to answer your boyfriends phone call, picking up your phone before pressing the speaker button so you talk to the poor guy while he continues to fuck the literal living breathing shit right out of you. right on top of the shared bed with your boyfriend.

god he wants to laugh so freaking badly- pulling out of your messy hole dangerously slow only to pound back inside you with no word other then a sinning grin while he gives your tits a paining smack loud enough for your boyfriend to catch it crystal clear.

"we'll then, pretty? go head and tell him how kiyoomi fuckin' sakusas made you his bitch and you're about to cum all over his big cock, or i'm tellin' him myself."

couple seconds later he’s got you creaming all on his length as your boyfriend from the other line hears you have the most phenomenal, toe curling, life changing, spine tingling orgasm you've ever faced.

AKAASHI

“she callin’ me daddy, i’m somebodies father,”

keijis got your wimpy legs draped over his shoulders, his sweat lined forehead kissing your own as he watches your pretty face expressions shift while your pussy hustles to lure in every inch of his big dick in.

but now he's just as fucked out as you are- hips rutting against yours with more desperation each time- moans becoming more winded once he’s sure he's close to filing you up to the brim. he’s fucked you so good your brains turned into mush, little yelps slipping from your parted lips as you feel every last ragged vein located on his dick draw against your delicate walls.

“fuck- love your cock so much, daddy! don’t want you to stop!

your holding onto his biceps, the tips of your acrylics jagged in his bare flesh as he reaches all of your sensitive points till your poor ol’ cunt milks him dry, womb filling up with his cum before he’s fucking another one in you right after.

“and i fucking love this cunt, angel. want you to be a good girl and take daddys cock one more round for me,”

SUNA

"she came for me twice, i didn't even nut for her once, you know i'm a pleaser,”

the perfect mixture of sweetheart and asshole during sex. when he finds the need, he’ll be a fucking sadist. but he knows how to please you the right way.

rintarōs number one concern is for you to cum. and if he can make it happen more then once before he’s shooting his own load in either one of your holes, then he will.

he looses it once he feels your dripping cunt squeeze him in, hips bucking up and rocking in you harder and harder. just after two orgasms you were awfully cum drunk, eyes crossing ‘n rolling back while he’s got your tits bouncing back and forth as your almost exploding-grip on his varsity team t-shirt tightens.

sunas dragging dreamy moans and whimpers from you as he sinks in his cock deep in your tummy. he cant tear his gaze off the way your puffy folds are sprawled around his dick, sticky body stiffening once his stomach coils from the familiar feeling of his orgasm edging him.

but he doesn’t wanna give in just yet. especially since he’s sure you’re not far yourself from reaching your high once more.

“shit- ‘got the tightest little pussy. think you can cum for me jus’ one more time, angel? c’mon, know you got it in ya, wanna see you cream on me again,”

KUROO

"we gon' make a movie like ray jay and kim kardash,"

bouncing in his strong lap, kuroos iphone’s blocking half of his face as he focuses on recording his pretty girl getting herself off on his cock- filming how desperate you are for his cum while he words the dirtiest things known to man behind that phone of his.

gives your tits a couple smacks before he’s toying with your nipples, wet cunt pulsating around his length once you feel his cold fingertips on your skin. it felt like your pussy was being slip into half- your little hole always striving to compromise to his monstrous size no matter how many times it’s been fucked by his cock.

“soo pretty- my girl wanted to ride me on camera tonight. ‘missed this cute cunt, baby. all fucking mine,”

your sore hips are grinding on his dick, teary eyes closed tightly as you feel all those inches he’s packing inside what really felt like your literal gut. he was near to pulling your first orgasm of that night, cocktip piercing your cervix once you seat back down nice and slow on him one last time till your cums caking his throbbing length- phone getting inches close to your messy cunt that was sparkling from your sweet arousal.

“god look at that shit. f-fucking hell- you gonna make me cum, sweetheart, wanna fill you up so badly,”

OSAMU & ATSUMU

"that p get devoured, told my brother she ours,”

the heavy weight of osamus cock stretches your suffering pussy out, spasming walls never failing to make his dick feel blissed out inside your wet cunt. he can't take his eyes away from it either, watching how his mesmerizing pussy takes all of him in in one piece, your finger nails embellishing his firm back with pigmented scratches.

"look at you, taking ‘samu like a fuckin' champ. wet ass pussy leakin' all over the place. been that desperate for a cock up in you, huh?"

his hips grind up into your cunt, brushing over your cervix as you beg him to keep fucking you harder and harder- to which your wish becomes granted, skin slapping being the only thing heard as he coils your insides till you're completely slurring your words.

the blonde twins got his fingers invading your drooling mouth, chocking your small throat roughly with his middle and index, spit dribbling down your chin while the other twins hips thrust upwards uncontrollably- his tip scarping the sore point inside you.

his cocks so deep inside you it almost burns, making you feel so full. osamus emphasizing each and every praise he voices with a savage thrust, his sweaty abdomen tensing up from your pretty cunt pulsating.

your mouth's falling open dramatically once he lines your hole livid white, squealing noises of your sloppy pussy drowning in his ears while he fucks into you as his slit clears out his cum.

"such a needy slut for my cock. goin' all dumb after a quick fuck. now get up 'n let ‘tsumu fuck all this cum back in ya,"

KENMA

"then you'll end up sittin' all over my bottom lip, baby,"

eats you slowly cause he's sooo in love with your pussy. always savoring your aroma with each kiss and lick he plants on your fluttering folds. loves whispering praises sweet as candy knowing it only gets you wetter and wetter. his pink tongue swirls over your clit, slurping up your addictive arousal as you pull at his two toned strands from above, his hungry moans buzzing against your precious folds.

"holy shit you’re so wet, i make you feel good huh, princess? mmm- taste so fucking good, could eat this cute pussy every single day,”

converses directly with your pussy cause duh? she's got lips too yk- watching your glossy slick spill to your weakened thighs whenever he says something absolutely vile as his head stays buried between your two legs.

groans against your pounding sex as his finger travels to your clit, circulating at it to draw you closer to your orgasm- and you know his gamer fingers are fucking peerless. nothing will ever compare to the way he fucks up into your small hole with them, the tips trailing against your walls as his versed thumb rubs at your clit till he's got you pulling a picasso- painting his pretty fucking face with your cum before he gives you the same treatment back in return.

© FSUNA

[killmeprettypleasee]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could do a Ghost x Rockstar male reader smut? Basically where the reader is being a flirt with a random fan and ghost gets jealous.

ROCKING ON THE COUCH

I'm making this on my friends phone lmao-

Warning: smut ofc, bj (Ghost receiving), I believe Ghost has a breeding kink, might have some errors, kinda cheating but not really-, rough seggs.

Today you were signing autographs for your fans, you saw how long the line was and the crowed was very noisy but you don't mind.

While you were signing some girl your autograph suddenly she said something you did not expect "your hot y'know that? How about you date me?" She said with a smirk on her face and licked her lips trying to seduce you, you just chuckled softly "hm? You think so.. well I might date you but-" "but what?" You got caught off but you shrugged it away.

You crossed your arms and leaned back to your seat "nothing Hun.. in all honesty your quite cute~" at the background you notice you boyfriend and smirked.. it been awhile since you saw him but you smirked and continued flirting with her, you knew Ghost can hear everything and swore his face was red with rage and jealousy, after signing it she walked away giving you her number and Ghost was in your sight now.. he grumbled under his breath "meet me home after this.. we need to talk" he said sharply and walked away.. and you just smirked and leaned back to your seat knowing what will happen after this and damn you were excited..

____

after that you were exhausted but your mind kept racing in excitement from the thoughts training in your mind, you quickly got out of the building that held your convention and got inside your car and raced to your shared house with Simon.

your heart raced from how pent up you were and got to your house.. as you scanned the surroundings you saw him sitting on thee couch without a shirt on and you almost drooled from the sight before you.. you can see his pants were unzipped showing the boxers he wore "come here.." he said lowly.. his piercing eyes tracing on your body from top to bottom and you ran up to him and kneeled on the floor in between his legs.. your heart raced in excitement.

You slowly watch him unzipping his pants "you're a fucking slut aren't you?.. got me all pissed seeing you with that shitty fan of yours.." it almost sounded like a snarl seeing him on top you.. you looked up at him with doe up eyes with your fingers gripping onto the carpet below you, then you saw it. His lovely cock you always drooled for, it stood proudly Infront of you inches away your face and God you can't help but want it inside your mouth sucking on it till he filled your mouth.

"if you want it, come get it" he smirked at your reaction and you quickly lined it to your open mouth and plunge it in whole, you sucked it hard like the good boy you are for him and can't help but feel proud of yourself making him groan and grip on your hair pulling you to his cock as you choked around it "f--fuck that's it.. good boy~" he groaned deeply.

he suddenly pushed you fully down to his cock with your face planted on his pubes, you let out a choked whine when the tip hit the back of your throat.. tears threatened to prickle down your eyes as he roughly fucked your mouth you were in ecstasy feeling him fill your mouth.

He smirked and you felt his cock twitch in you mouth and before he could cum he pulled out with a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock.

"get over here" he said commandingly and quickly got up and straddled his lap, his hands quickly found your waist gripping it tightly the tip was poking your hole and wiggled our hips trying to shove it in yourself, this made Ghost laugh at how desperate you "slow down.. we're going there" he said smoothly his breath tickling your neck, you nodded. slowly his cock entered your tight hole making him groan breathlessly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck as he slid in.

"f-fuckin.. tight for m-me.." he hissed when your finally seated on his cock.. you knew this is gonna be a rough night when he began lifting your hips and slamming down roughly, you were hugging him tightly as he whispers nasty stuffs in your ear "wanna breed this little hole of your love.. gonna look lovely stuffed with my cum" he chuckled breathlessly.

soon his pounding became rough and merciless, your hips would twitch every time he pulled your hips down.. tears slowly drip out your eyes feeling so full of him inside you.

he noticed and kissed your teary eyes "you can handle it baby.. did you forgot? you asked for this slut.." he bit your neck a bit harsh but not harsh to break the skin.. he's so rough with you but you love every single thing about it.

"fah- G-ghost please!-" "please what?.. you want me to breed this ass of yours hm?" you gulped and noddedagainst his neck shyly and smirked "gonna have a loongg night with you babe"..

[powderblueblood]

I know this has been done a million and one times, but Eddie just vibing at the gas station. Something inevitably goes wrong. Please and thanks dear Powder

jo my love i present to you 1k+ words of eddie munson's no good very bad wednesday night no warnings! just silly. and acab includes hopper

So it's eight thirty on a Wednesday night, the very armpit of the week, and Eddie's standing there under the glare of the gas station fluorescents. Right in the heart of the snack aisle.

"What's become apparent to me, Sam, is-is-is-is that it's fear. It's the iron claw of the bonds of being a scaredy-cat little bitch that has stunted me fundamentally."

Loaded. So stoned he's stalagmite.

"See, I'm a capable guy. Many capes have I, but it's like, I've finally mastered the fuck-you-chip-on-my-shoulder adolescent thing that I'm reluctant to let it go. I'm skirting around putting on my big boy pants. I'm failing my courses. I'm dumbing myself down to stick around high school, seemingly, on purpose. Because I'm afraid!"

Eddie's pouring his heart out to the narcoleptic octogenarian cashier, the guy that likely built this place out of shiplap and bullet casings way back when it was a horseshit stop for Buffalo Bill's Wild West Freak Show or whoever.

"And I know what you're thinking." Sam isn't thinking anything. Sam's sleeping with his eyes wide open. "Why not really, grr, take root with that family tree, huh? Drop out like my old man and my uncle did? Well, I'll tell ya--"

Eddie wonders, in the middle of his own sentence, what it'd be like to hitch his wagon to an operation like that and coast solely on being a moorless weirdo.

He's really stoned, okay?

"--high school is easy to fail in. Real life? Isn't."

And look, before you get all, he's got good reason. It's been a particular drag of a week, a real sandpaper to the balls kind of kick off. Corroded Coffin's Tuesday night engagement at the Hideout was a special kind of bust--not least of all because the slapdash stage finally gave way under all that threatening creaking, and almost took Jeff's neck with it.

The neck of his bass and his human body. Neither of which Jeff's ass is in any position to fix.

So Eddie's got a band that's bruised and barely in the pocket, and a mouth that won't stop running.

“WSQK 94.5, The Squawk!” Eddie echoes the radio, complete with eagle screech, as the opening chords of Renegade by Ted Nugent & the Amboy Dukes pick up. "Hawk-ening right back to a time when Ted Nugent hadn't yet sold all his actual guitaristry to that pissant Wango Tango-ing... You know what, man, this is it!"

His ringed hands come down on the counter all a-clatter, chip crumbs flying out the bag he hasn't quite paid for yet.

"Lock me in a room full of records under a radio tower and throw away the key, I mean, I would be good to fucking go. None of that shock-jock shit, either. I'd play nothing but real music. The Hawkins Midnight Rambler, huh?" But Sam isn't paying sufficient enough attention. "Think I got a face for radio, Sammy?" Because he's asleep.

It takes a couple of molasses-slow moments for Eddie to register this, he himself still working through his own big sluggishness. I mean, damn, even waving a hand in front of the old man's face is an effort.

He's out, though, like a light. Makes Eddie wonder how this place stays open, much less unrobbed.

Well. Careful what you wish for there, buddy.

His hand is slinking toward a Three Musketeers, ready to nab it from the shelf right under old Sam's nose and write him a little IOU for whenever he next has the cash, but Eddie senses a shuffling behind him.

"Put your fuckin' hands in the air!"

Oh? "Dude, what?"

There's this guy behind him, this guy whose corporeal form Eddie can't be a bajillion percent sure isn't, like, a vivid hallucination, with pantyhose tugged over his face. Poking a pistol around under the cover of his camo jacket. The whole bit.

"Put your hands in the air or I put a hole through ya, asshole! You too, old man!"

Eddie tuts, hands still very much hovering near that candy bar.

"What's the fucking hold up, you and your grandpa tryin' to get shot or somethin?!" this very serious masked assailant demands.

"He's asleep, guy," Eddie says. "He can't hear you."

"What?!" our villain splutters, "Well... wake the fuck up! I ain't got all day and I want what's in that reg--"

He goes to point his still-concealed fuckin' sharp shooter or whatever it is he has at Sam's face, and Eddie, with this strange surge of protectiveness and complete buffoonery, nudges his arm away.

"Don't! Number one, dude's a narcoleptic, you could give him a heart attack if you just woke him up like that--number two, I saw him pull a sawed off from under that counter one time and you're in way closer range so the hole he blows through you is gonna be, like, way bigger and... like, he'll kill you and shit. Be cool."

The would-be thief groans. Oh, god, Eddie just knows he thought this hit job would be way easier. In and out, quick and dirty, wham-bam-thank you Sam.

Eddie nearly laughs. He does laugh, actually, because he's still super-mega fucking high and can't exactly control the noises that come out of his mouth, so next thing the dude is rounding on him with the thing in his pocket. Eddie actually puts his hands up this time. Feels a cold shock go through him somewhere that he really hopes isn't piss.

You ever get that? Get so stoned you constantly think you're peeing yourself? Anyway.

"Get the fuck behind the counter! If the old man can't open the register for me, you're gonna do it!"

"But I don't know how." Liar. Lying ass. Eddie knows how to work a goddamn register. It's not like he's tucking that money from the Hideout straight into his garter belt. Though he could. Maybe he should. Maybe he should buy a garter b--

"I'm gonna tell you how, dickhead!"

"What's in it for me?"

"Is that a fucking joke, wise guy?"

Only kinda. Closed mouths never get fed. "Worth a shot."

But Eddie doesn't really love this dude's tone, so he obediently scoots behind the counter, and almost gets distracted by all the copies of Penthouse Sam is keeping back here. He knew the bastard was holding out on him.

"Um..." Eddie gingerly starts, hands just sort of floating in the direction of the register in a way he hopes to Christ won't disturb Sam and wake him into a world of cardiac calamity.

So the guy tells him what buttons to push, clearly a man of the trade, a fellow familiar with wiling countless hours away behind a counter, which makes Eddie be all, why don't you steal from your own job, you shyster and keeps hitting the wrong buttons on purpose.

But dear old Sammy must have this thing rigged to make Eddie look like an asshole, because out pops the fucking drawer anyhow!

This guy, the pantyhose head, the robber, lets out an honest-to-god yippee! as he reaches over to snatch that cash.

And Eddie, working solely on instinct at this point, narrows his lovely red-rimmed eyes and shoves the drawer right in on the unlucky fuck's fingers.

He screams. And Eddie screams. And something falls out of his pocket. And Eddie leans over the counter, expecting to see and hear the shiny clatter of a pistol hit the lino.

But there is no such hardware.

It was a banana in his pocket. He was not happy to see you.

"What the fuck, man!" they chorus in near unison. They could have been brothers in another life, says some disembodied voice in the back of Eddie's head.

But then, something yellow flies towards Eddie's face and the shock of it knocks him right back into the lotto tickets and cigarettes. Thunk! His head knocks far too hard against the fire extinguisher and now there's two unconscious guys behind the counter.

Now, I don't know if you've ever had a banana thrown in your face by a masked assailant before, but I would call that something of an overreaction.

Anyway, he wakes up to police sirens and that Callaghan dweeb hauling him up by the front of his Hellfire shirt.

"Sshsjesus, Officer Handsy, buy a guy dinner first," Eddie slurs, head pounding. Callaghan's dorky Buddy Holly glasses have an aura around them that he unconsciously tries to swat away.

"He's resisting arrest!" Callaghan yells.

"Keep it down, I have a headache!" Eddie blinks once, twice, twenty-million times and is still having a tough time taking stock of his surroundings. Cash drawer's open and empty, and Sam is nowhere to be seen. "Didja catch the guy or what? He had a banana gun. Threw it right at me."

"Pipe down. Edward Munson, you're under arrest for armed robbery--"

"--wait, hold on--"

"--endangering the elderly--"

"--hold the fuck on!"

"--and swearing at a police officer!" Callaghan clicks the cuffs on and Eddie's about to burst, he's so mad and his head is pounding with such a fury. Shuffling him out into the forecourt and into the squad car like some kind of penguin idiot!

"That last thing isn't even real!" he spits, "None of this is real--I was trying t--fuck, did you not hear me about the banana gun?!"

"Reminds me to drug test him when we get back to the station," Callaghan puffs as he slides into the passenger seat.

"No one's drug testing anybody," Chief Hopper grumbles from behind the wheel. "We don't even have those facilities. Plus, kid doesn't even have any of that stolen cash on him."

"Thank you!" Eddie barks from his seat in the back. He can't really seem to sit upright, and he doesn't know whether to contribute that to the lump that's risen on the back of his head or the drugs that are definitely still in his system.

"W--well, why are we arresting him, then?" Callaghan blubs. Which is actually a salient point.

The Chief shrugs. "I'unno. Wednesday night. Somethin' to do."

[fluidstatick]

dentift

dr F says the extraction site looks fine, but he's gonna poke around under the gumline and see if he can find the source of the pain.

I'm wondering if the chills, flushing, persistent headache, neck pain, and excess brain fog are just my fibromyalgia and my (as yet undiagnosed) MCAS having brunch and gossipping like bitchy twin sisters in my neck?

Dr F says my xrays look fine, too; the two teeth in front of the extraction site don't need root canals or anything, just replacement fillings. Also, I'm informed that the demon lady who gave me a panic attack when i first went in for the extraction has been fired. "Good, to be honest," I said. "We're all in agreement there," he said. My hunch that he'd been stuck cleaning up her botch jobs was right, apparently. I hope she abandons dentistry and gets a fuckin' telemarketing job or something.

Anyway, it's novocaine wait time again. I'm surprised I can thumb type properly with all the norepinephrine twitches.

I'm just excited to not be in pain anymore. I hope we'll be able to move on from this slow healing hole in my face and start talking about dentures. I wanna chew comfortably again, damn it.

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hi there! I'm the lady behind a fair chunk of the Peter requests. May I please request "I feel like I can tell you anything" with a side of "you know what I love about you?" for Peter? I love your blog by the way. And don't feel like you need to rush yourself. Take as long as you need.

thank you so much for sending all the requests, I've loved them all!!

and thank you so much for the support, you're very sweet <3 <3 <3

things that you want to hear.

Your affection for PETER occasionally hits you at the strangest times.

Case in point, all the things you adore about him bubble to the surface currently, as you’re watching him work on a new routine with Wendy. Your feelings are all over you about him; the way he takes charge, his determination to perfect the performance, even his sour attitude is something that strikes up a warmth in your chest.

It must be something he notices ― the lovestruck expression you’re looking at him with while he practices. When he and Wendy decide to take a break, he’s over next to you, stretching out over the crate you’re perched on. “Oi, precious, wot’s with the starry eyes over ‘ere? Y’ look almos’ like y’re gonna jump over the moon ‘r somethin’.”

“What do you mean?” you chuckle. You stretch out next to him, rolling over so you can be face to face. “I’m just looking at you, handsome.”

He rolls his eyes. “’Course. Damn, wot was I thinkin’?”

You bite down on another laugh and reach over to trace your finger over his chest. “No, I’m serious, you horrible man. You know what I love about you?”

“Absolutely nothin’?” he snorts. Even so, he reaches toward you, lazily splaying his arm over your waist. You can feel in the slow, less than energetic movement of it that he must be incredibly tired already. Despite the fact that he apparently thinks you’re having a go at him, he still wants some attention.

Well, it’s your turn to roll your eyes. Does he really not believe he possesses a single redeeming quality? You don’t understand the way he thinks sometimes. “Don’t say things like that. There’s plenty about you that I love. And I was going to tell you all about it, if you didn’t immediately launch into some negativity.”

One eyebrow raises at you. It’s as if he thinks that there being one thing to love about him is strange enough, and more than one is an impossibility. “That right? In that case, y’ oughta talk faster. Go on, then, list it off, I won’t interrupt again.”

What a liar. You think he’d physically die if he had to not interrupt you while you’re talking about your love for him.

Regardless, you decide to call his bluff and press on. “There are a lot of things, you know. Maybe most people don’t see everything that I see, but you shouldn’t sell yourself short. I mean―” You’re quick to move past that based on the look he aims at you, probably thinking that was meant to poke fun at his height. “― I feel like I can tell you anything. You know?”

Your fingertip traces heart shapes on his chest. “You’ll be honest with me. Brutally so, sometimes. You’ll always tell me the truth, even if I may not want to hear it. If I come to you complaining about something that happened, I can trust you to tell me, ‘That wasn’t y’r fault, c’mere so I can give y’ a kiss ‘n’ make y’ feel bet’er’ or ‘That was all y’, sweet’eart, but ev’ryone fucks up sometimes so gimme a kiss anyway’.”

Peter huffs, though he’s got the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Oi, I don’t think I like y’ mimickin’ me. It’s way too fuckin’ accurate.”

You laugh and lean over for a kiss. “The point is, I like that about you. I love that even when I’m the one who did something wrong, you tell me that I did something wrong… but you don’t harp on it. You don’t… stop loving me.”

“Why would I stop lovin’ y’? Obviously y’ know wot I’m gonna say, ‘cause y’ said it y’rself ― ev’ryone fucks up.” He returns your kiss eagerly. All his exhaustion is forgotten, evidently, just so he can come alive in your embrace. “… Glad y’ told me this, at leas’. Gives me the chance t’ tell y’ somethin’.”

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

His arm squeezes around your waist. It’s rough and reassuring all at the same time. “I ain’t never gonna stop lovin’ y’, precious. There’s things I’d leave people f’r, but I know y’ ain’t gonna do any’a that shite. So there ain’t nothin’ y’ could do that’d make me stop lovin’ y’. Got that?”

For all his faults, all his bad attitude and distrust in the rest of society… Peter seems to have a lot of faith in you. That’s one more thing you love about him.

So you lean in for another kiss. “… Got it, love.”

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.  

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

                            Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred.  He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window.  And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day.  Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly.  "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone.  He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern.  “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology. 

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid.  Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was.  A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that.  And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant.  When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.  

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear.  “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that?  I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly.  His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you?  You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’.  You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll.  I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier.  Is that what you want, sweetheart?  To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away.  “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them.  “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned.  “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt?  Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly.  He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.  

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again.  The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace.  "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak.  But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women!  And you know what I love most?  Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you.  All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for.  Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled.  “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming?  Shit," he moaned.  "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs.  "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh?  Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right.  Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby?  Wanna be my little slut?  Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed.  “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real.  But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.  He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed.  “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are.  But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest.  Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously.  "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air.  "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp.  "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible.  Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced.  They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them.  "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste.  Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah?  Wanna get knocked up?  You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley.  Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence.  It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.  

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain.  "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body.  Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder.  Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt.  “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

[arrowflier]

I absolutely loved your last ficlet, the one inspired by Take Me to Church (well, I love EVERYTHING you write), so I'm here with a thought that maybe you can turn into something:

What if, for some reason, Mickey has to speak in Ukrainian (your pick why, maybe directions to tourists or a phone call with a distant relative) and Ian witnesses it and just goes: 😳🤯🤤🥵😍, followed by "can you do that again when we're in bed"?

Thank you anon! Disclaimer that I do not know Ukrainian, so if google led me astray I apologize.

That Foreign Tongue

They were out in the rig, on their way to a pickup, when Mickey got a call.

He fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone, frowned at it in consternation as it blared.

“Who the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, then swiped to decline.

Ian looked over as he pulled to the curb outside their destination, curious.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know,” was all he got in answer. “Not a fuckin’ Chicago number, that’s for sure. Not New York, either,” he added before Ian can check. Mandy wasn’t great at staying in contact, but they knew to answer if it looked like it could be her.

Ian shrugged, and reached back to grab the cash bag from behind Mickey’s seat.

“Sure it wasn’t Mexico or something?” he prodded with a forced casualness, and Mickey rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door to get out.

He met Ian around the front of the ambulance, and promptly poked him in the chest, hard.

“What was that for?” Ian asked, wounded, and Mickey clicked his tongue.

“For still fuckin’ fishin’ about that,” he told his husband. “It’s been two fucking years, let it go already.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ian huffed. “Sorry for wanting to know more about what you did down there that has people calling in the middle of the—”

“That was one time!” Mickey exclaimed, arms going wide. “One fucking time, and I told you what it was about! Roberto needed me to check on his damn kid, it had nothing to do with—”

“Well how was I supposed to know that,” Ian interrupted loudly, “when you were speaking a whole different language?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mickey trailed off as he stormed away from Ian down the sidewalk.

He wasn’t really mad. They did this song and dance around once a month, still, ever since one of his old contacts had found him and called him up. It stuck in Ian’s craw that Mickey had had people down there, without him, even though, as he explained to him once, he was glad about it at the same time. They both knew it didn’t really matter—sometimes it just needed to come out.

Sure enough, Ian caught up with him after only a few strides, falling in beside him naturally. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise there was no indication of their brief argument.

Mickey gave him two minutes before he tried to smooth it over.

Ian didn’t last one.

“You know,” his husband started, reaching up to scratch at his jaw. “I’m just making sure none of those foreigners come up here and take what’s mine.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah?” he prompted. “Think they’re coming for our jobs and our husbands, now?”

Ian’s lips lifted in a grin, their banter back on track the way they liked it.

“I mean,” he said, “I can’t really blame them.” He grabbed Mickey by the arm and brought them both to a stop right outside their drop, tugging him close enough for their boots to kick together on the pavement.

“A hot, red-blooded American man like yourself,” Ian murmured, getting his arms around Mickey’s waist. “You’re quite the catch, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, leaning up to bring their faces closer. “That right, Mr. Milkovich?”

He was just about to follow it up with a good old-fashioned make-up kiss, when his phone blared again from his pocket.

“Damn it,” he hissed as he thumped his heels back down and dug it out again. This time, he answered it immediately.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” he shouted into it, “you’re interruptin’ something here.”

An unfamiliar voice came down the line, barely audible to Ian where he still stood close but with a clearly chastising tone, and the fight went out of Mickey in an instant.

“Prīvіt,” Mickey muttered, looking almost bashful, and Ian did a double-take. That wasn’t English, or Spanish…he had to try and listen in on a third language, now? When did Mickey even find the time to learn this shit?

Ian watched silently as Mickey listened to whoever was on the line. His husband had folded into himself, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and his elbow with the other, casting a quick glance up at Ian before turning his attention away again.

“Shcho novogo?” he asked into the phone, and then a brilliant smile crossed his face a moment later. “Dobre, dobre,” he said, then “vitayu”.

It sounded like the caller asked him a question, next, but Ian couldn’t hear what Mickey answered, his husband lowering his voice and turning his back. Ian tried not to let himself feel hurt at the sudden shut-out.

A moment later, the call was over with a quiet “do pobachenn'a”, and Mickey faced him again.

Ian wanted to ask, but he waited instead, hoping Mickey would explain. Thankfully, he did.

“So, uh,” he started off nervously. “That was my…like, my great-aunt or something?”

Ian could feel his eyebrows rising. “You have family you still talk to?” he asked, and Mickey shook his head immediately.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted. “But this one, she’s back in Ukraine still, guess she calls around sometimes to check on me and Mandy.” He looked down at the dark screen of his phone, lips twisted. “Been a couple years,” he added. “Didn’t think she had the new number, but uh. Guess one of my cousins just had a kid or somethin', so she wanted to catch up.”

Family was a touchy subject, Ian knew. So he went for the next obvious question instead.

“Ukraine? That mean you speak Ukrainian?”

Mickey just looked at him. “No, Ian,” he offered dryly, “I just thought I’d make some weird sounds and see if she could read my mind from across the fuckin’ ocean.” Ian didn’t respond, so he tacked on, “Yes, I speak Ukrainian. Sort of.” He rubbed his nose, looked away and back. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

It was a fair enough question. But this wasn’t like the Spanish, which was never really the problem anyway. It wasn’t a reminder of time they spent apart, or things he didn’t now. It was just Mickey. And Mickey's voice, and the way it rolled over those unfamiliar phrases so cleanly, so...attractively.

“Not at all,” Ian clarified quickly. Too quickly, maybe, because Mickey’s cautious look gave way to a slow smile.

“Oh, really?” Mickey said, apparently delighted. He grinned even wider when Ian felt his face flush. So his husband sounded hot in other languages, fucking sue him.

“Better watch out, man," Mickey warned. "I hear foreigners like me are out huntin’ down men like you nowadays.”

Ian cleared his throat, and closed the distance between them again. “And that’s a problem how?” he asked.

“Didn’t say it was, miy cholovik,” Mickey murmured lowly, raising a hand to grip at Ian’s hair once he was close enough. Ian’s breath caught at the soft look on his eyes that accompanied the foreign words.

“What does that mean?”

Mickey pressed their lips together once, twice, before pulling back just enough to answer.

“Nothing bad, moye sontse,” he breathed, and Ian shuddered.

“We have a job to do,” he reminded Mickey weakly, like he hadn’t been the one to start this. “You keep saying that weird shit, we’re gonna have to cancel all our pickups today.”

“You better make some calls then, miy kokhanets,” Mickey chuckled against his lips. “But first…”

He pushed Ian back into a convenient alley right next to their original destination, shoving until they hit the rough brick wall. Ian didn’t protest as Mickey started to tug at his camo jacket, getting the zipper down far enough to mouth at Ian’s neck.

“Ya tebe kokhayu, Ian” Mickey muttered against his skin, pressing tighter as Ian clutched at his back. “Let me show you how much.”

--

Hours later, at home, Ian asked Mickey what else his aunt had said.

"Oh, not much," Mickey answered, snuggling closer. "Wanted to see if we could catch a flight sometime, go visit the old country, that kind of thing."

"Is that something you'd want to do?" he prodded, and Mickey shrugged, shoulders moving against Ian's chest.

"I guess," he said, unconvincingly disinterested. "I'd have to teach you the language, though, none of my mom's folks speak English."

Ian's brain ground to a halt. If the day had been any indication, he wasn't sure he could survive language lessons with his husband.

But never let it be said that Ian Gallagher backed down from a challenge.

"Sure," he agreed, and he was sure of one thing when he felt Mickey smile against his neck--it was going to be the best worst decision of his life.

--

According to my admittedly poor research, Mickey basically says hi, what's up, good, congrats, goodbye, then calls Ian my husband, my sun, my lover and says I love you. It's most likely all horribly butchered because I only speak English and a tiny bit of German, if you know Ukrainian I would happily take correction.

[ilkkawhat]

OOOH all those prompts are very DaltonStokes!! How about “You can hold my hand.” + "blanket" for the fall words for the softest combo? 💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙💜💙

"I never knew the desert could be so beautiful at night."

As Nick pitches their tent, Jack pokes a few more sticks into their modest fire, though his attention is to the clear skies above.

"Thought you spent a few years in a sandbox? I reckon you'd know all about the rhythm of the night out in a landscape like this," Nick asks with a teasing smile, noticeably watching as Jack leans closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"Yeah, but the nights weren't...peaceful like this. If I wasn't attempting some sleep, I was keepin' watch over my boys."

With one final stake driven into the ground, Nick comes up behind Jack, wrapping himself around him.

"And who kept watch over you?" Nick whispers into his ear.

"Nobody like you, that's for sure. Best watchdog I've ever had," Jack wraps his hand around Nick's wrist, pulling him down further and guiding him to sit next to him.

"What kinda rhythm is this?" Jack speaks up after some silence, his face screwed up in confusion.

"Hmm?" Nick asks with equal puzzlement.

"You said I'd know all about the...'rhythm of the night?'" Don't see much dancin' out here, 'less there's something you ain't telling me."

"Like what?" Nick laughs absurdly.

"I don't know! A fuckin' flash mob, or something? I wouldn't put it past you to do something to troll me like that."

"Troll you?"

"Yeah, isn't that what the kids call it these days?"

"Jack, I'm older than you."

"Don't mean you aren't hip with the times. Sanders always seems to know what's going on in the club."

"Speak for yourself, you're the one who babysits a bunch of college-aged spies for a living."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack waves off.

"But what I mean about the rhythm of the night is just...the gentle sounds of solitude in an endless sea of sand. The howls of coyotes, the restless tumbleweeds. The wind—" Nick waves a hand in the air, as if to motion, "—breathing through you...it's a slow, smooth rhythm. Intimate, almost."

"Well, it's also a bit of a cold one, Robert Frost. Not to say your delicate words that sound like they're out of a poem don't gimme some warmth but...my bones are shaking. Can't even feel my damn fingers."

"You can hold my hand," Nick offers, lacing his fingers together with Jack's that are indeed a little cold. "And, here—"

He leans to the side, pulling out the rolled thermal blanket he had on top of his backpack, unfurling it with one hand and draping it over their backs to become a shared cloak. Jack pulls in his side and Nick leans his head on his shoulder.

"I get it now," Jack's voice crackles just like the weakening fire as the moon rises higher above them, bathing them in a soft glow. "I like this song."

"I knew you would," Nick smiles, and pulls his side of the blanket in tighter, covering their clasped hands though he forgot just how cold it could be, given that all his warmth comes from the draw of Jack Dalton beside him.

[blownbybakugou]

heyyy i just followed ur blog and ive been loving it! could i get a bnha mashup?

my pronouns are she/her and i’m half white, half chinese! i'm 5’5-5’6, kinda thicc thighs but the rest of my body is skinnier/smaller (small boobs and small butt lmfao), chubby cheeks, freckles, not too dark brown eyes, long-ish brown hair with a bit of red and blonde tints in it (like natural highlights kinda). i’m actually bi but i prefer men 😳😝 i am an enfp im pretty sure but i can fit for esfp too. i’m kinda loud sometimes and persistent when it comes to friendships and relationships. i’m a bit insecure but im currently trying not to be! my type is pretty open, i either like ppl opposite to me (like my best friend who is a major introvert lmao) or just ppl that match my energy! i can be a bit naive when i first meet someone, only because i like to think that there’s good in everyone :) i have a bit of a dirty mind and can be pervy at times once we are close enough 👀 my sun sign is sagittarius ♐️ i love to act, sing and dance (even though im not vv good at it) and go to a drama arts school because i want to be an actress in the future! i also an a bit of a social activist, just like to spread awareness for what i think is right (such as BLM and LGBTQ+ rights)! even though i’m not very observant and a bit slow sometimes, i can psycho-analyze ppl rrly well (according to my friends lol). i’m really easy to talk to, very welcoming, gets excited easily and loves to make people happy, laugh or make others laugh! can keep up a one sided convo rrly well if needed too (i’m a bit too talkative sometimes haha), i love to tease but can be nice depending on the person, a bit lazy and a bit of a narcissistic (only sometimes though and also working on it!) but yea i think that’s it, all i could think of XD

shit this is so long (my narcissism must be rrly showing now that i’ve just talked about myself for a whole paragraph but i swear it’s just because i’m so talkative and have a bunch to say haha) i’m sorry but thank you! 💞

Hey! I just wanted to say thanks for following, and that I’m glad you like my stuff!

I match you with...

Kaminari!

Big tiddies,

Small tiddies,

He loves them all!

Mostly because he’s a perv but yk-

At first,

He is a small bit disappointed that you have a small ass,

But he knows it ain’t ur fault and instantly feels guilty.

He loves to squish your chubby cheeks,

And also loves to poke at your freckles.

You think you’re loud?

And you’re feeling bad about it?

BITCH MEET DENKI THE FUCKIN CLOWN 🤡

Being with him will make you feel better about your insecurities,

Bc ur with this little shit 😌.

And he may not be the brightest,

But he still adores how you spread awareness to LGBTQ+ and BLM!!!

Again, you think YOU’RE pervy?

This mf pops a boner to practically everything you do.

Sing you say?

You should jam with Kami sometime he legit rocks to heavy shit all the damn time.

Another thing is,

He loves when you talk about yourself!

Narcissism be ✨damned✨

[moranaleksandrova]

RANDOM SCENE #1

(I was just vibing to some thoughts and the guilty feeling of a night with too much alcohol... and ended up writing this down.

English is NOT my native language, I'm sorry for any mistakes/typos. Feel free to correct me!

You can share if you want. Pls tag me 🙏).

tags: friends to lovers (f/m) / slow burn / unsaid stuff.

tw: mention of alcohol, smoking, mention of casual sex, mention of past trauma, fluffness (I guess).

There you go:

**************************

It was a night like the others. Hanging out with a group of friends, vibing at a concert.

They had a couple of drinks and she'd had many more. Not too many but enough to make a fool out of herself.

She asked for a cigarette, flirting with a guy standing in line with her, when he took her by the arm and pulled her aside from the crowd.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Why do I do what?"

"You can barely stand"

"The night is still young" - she winked at the guy she was flirting with as she blew one last smoke.

"I hate to see you like this"

She turned to him, defiant. "Are you jealous?" - he was, but he didn't want her know.

"Try to behave for... Like... At least an hour. So that I can enjoy the concert. Then I'm taking you home"

"Yes, Mommy. I'll be a good girl..." - she put a finger on her lips. Then she wet its tip with her tongue and poke at his nose. She knew this was like playing with matches and kerosene. He stood still, thinking to all the things he would have wanted to do to her, with her, on her.

**********************************

"I can't find my keys" - she was rummaging through her bag - will you help me instead of laughing at me?".

He was staring at her, smiling. The messy hair, the strap of her top falling down her shoulder. He let his gaze linger on her neckline.

"Damn... Everytime... Will you please stop looking at my breasts and help me?"

"I wasn't... Nevermind... Here! - he took her keys out of the pocket in his jacket - you said three hours ago I should keep 'em because you always lose 'em".

"Yes! I am a fuckin' genius!"

"You are welcome? I guess?" - he said snorting.

"Oh, my saviour. My knight in a shining armour - she hugged him. He was taller and her head would fit perfectly under his chin... - Saving me from a night of sleep in the hallway and a bad one-night-stand. I don't know... What would I do without you?"

"You would do... Poorly. And you know that."

She raised her head. His nose was just a inch away from hers. So were his lips.

She stopped smiling. "Do you want to know why I do this every weekend? - he nodded - I guess... I am just broken. In a way I can't heal. And so I have decided to let go. To keep the cracks opening up... Until I am so broken I can't recognise myself anymore. And then I'll be free. From all the pain. From... All the bad memories".

He knew what she was referring to. The car accident. The miscarriage. The divorce. And, last but not least, the loss of her father.

He had always been by her side. He provided her legal advice. Like a good friend, who is also lawyer, would. Only he would have wanted to be a bit more than that. More than a shoulder to cry on.

He was frowning, she kissed his cheek. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to vomit all those thoughts on you..."

"It's okay. And I am glad you opened up. Are you still seeing a therapist?"

"I am... In between therapists. To be honest. I know, I know... Don't get mad at me. I promise I'll sort this out"

"I don't want to scold you. I just can't help worry about you. I can't stand to see you wash your pain away with alcohol and..."

"Casual sex?"

"Yes. And casual sex."

"I promise you I will drink and fuck responsibly. Okay?". Her arms were still wrapped around him.

He felt the urge to hold her tight, to press his lips onto hers, to tell her all will be well. But he didn't. Instead, he let her go.

She opened her apartment's door and turned to him "Good night". She knew he wanted more but she wasn't ready to give it to him. Not now.

"Sleep well".

[gingerwritess]

Hey-o! I don't know if you'd take a request like this (and you probably have so many piled up already since you're so amazing) but I'm in a mood and I'm craving some Loki & reader pregnancy + body positivity with like major fluff. Basically I've just been watching a lot of Colleen Ballinger's pregnancy videos and that inspired this odd request.

took forever but here’s that pregnancy fluff you wanted! 

turns out i wanted it too…hope more of you do too ksjdkaldkf how does anyone n o t this is so fluffy gosh

also this could be when you’re preggo with either kid, elliot or lil frigga !!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Look, if you’re not going to stay in bed, then you at least owe it to your husband to keep your shirt off.”

Loki’s pouting.

Like a child. Bottom lip out and trembling, eyes narrowed, arms crossed. You’re still deciding if it’s endearing or just annoying, but the scales might be tipping a little more towards endearing when he grabs your pillow and hugs it to his chest.

“Come back or keep your shirt off,” he warns, voice muffled when he buries his face in the pillow. “Both would be ideal, of course, but I won’t force you.”

“Oh, thanks, you’re a saint.” You pull your arms back out of the t-shirt with a tiny smile.

He flings an arm across your empty side of the bed, still hugging your pillow to his chest—a quiet plea for your warmth again.

“I didn’t realise you stopped loving me.” A tiny sniff—oh come on, Loki—comes from behind the pillow. “I thought it’d be a gradual process, but no, I suppose I must’ve done something unforgivable to constitute you leaving me after such an enjoyable night…”

“I’m just getting some water, Loki.”

“You’ve done this before,” he whines, peeking just his eyes out from behind the pillow. “A few nights ago, remember? And I ended up falling asleep before you were back and I was alone and cold and—”

“Loki.” You’re back, wrapping your re-discarded shirt behind his neck and cupping his cheek in your palm. “You’re an idiot.”

“How sweet.”

You laugh and lean down to kiss him, pulling the pillow out of his arms as you melt into his chest. “There. I kept my shirt off and came back to bed. Happy?”

He lifts you slightly, pushing you to the side and curling his arms around you to hold you to his chest without hurting your swollen baby bump.

“Very.” A finger under the chin tips your head up and your mouths meet, slow and lazy. “Is this alright?”

“Perfect,” you mumble, searching for his lips again.

“You’re comfortable? I don’t want to hurt the—”

“I’m fine, Loki, don’t worry.” Chuckling at the genuine concern in his voice, you kiss him a couple more times…y’know, just to be sure.

He hums, low in his throat, practically a purr and you know he’s in heaven. His hand inches towards you as you watch, waiting to see if he’ll just do it or keep pretending like you’re not noticing—

“You’re not being very subtle, honey.”

You grab his hand and plant it firmly on your belly.

Loki grins.

“Mine.”

“Yes, dipshit, yours.” You heave a sigh and roll onto your back, tugging Loki onto his side as you do.

He gazes down at you with that stupidly adorable little grin, thumb stroking slowly over your stomach, and he leans down to brush his lips over yours. “You…you are beyond beautiful.”

“Mmhm. Okay, sure.”

Loki blinks. “What is that tone for?”

“What tone?” You grab the blankets and tug them up and over your bare torso, trying to roll onto your side—Loki’s hand on your stomach won’t let you.

“That sarcastic, disbelieving tone.” He frowns and sits up, pointing a finger in your face. “I don’t like that, not one bit.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo for you.” One good yank and you’ve pulled the covers over your head. “I should’a put my shirt on, thanks a lot.”

“Why, are you cold?” His hand sneaks under the covers to grip onto your breast, squeezing gently. “I can always…warm you up, if you’ll let me.”

You smack his hand away with a groan. “No, sheesh. Maybe in a couple months.”

“Where did this come from?”

The poor guy sounds flabbergasted, honestly, staring down at you as you hide under the covers. Just minutes ago, you were cheerful and playing with him, kissing him and calling his name sweet as honey from your lips, but within seconds dove under the covers and—this is the really surprising part—won’t even let him touch you.

“Was it something I said?” He tries to lift the sheet away from your face, but you hold it tight and nod.

“Ah. Would you be willing to tell me what it was?”

You shake your head at him from under the sheet and he frowns.

“How am I supposed to know—”

The sheet flips down to reveal you scowling up at him, abruptly shutting him up as he raises his hands in defense.

That is the face of a woman you don’t want to upset.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs when you pull the sheet back up, hiding from his adoring gaze. “I’m sorry, my love, for whatever it was I said that upset you.”

“Hmph.” Your middle finger pokes out from the top of the sheets.

Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s been a while since you had a complete hormonal meltdown, he should’ve known this was bound to happen.

There’s a few things he’s learned not to bring up, like, at all with your pregnant self, unless he wants to be faced with a sobbing wreck or raging half-devil of a wife.

Your appearance is number two on the list, as difficult as that is for Loki to accept.

In his mind, he’s never seen you looking more ethereal or alive and beautiful as you are while pregnant with his child. Your belly round, your breasts full, face filled with light and eyes positively sparkling with excitement, you’re a dream in and of yourself in this state.

You, on the other hand, seem to believe you’ve taken on the appearance of a whale and elephant hybrid. There’s no convincing you otherwise, and Loki has to accept that, though he always tries to tell you differently (only making matters worse).

But Loki just called you beautiful—he couldn’t help it.

Tears gather in your eyes as you hide under the sheet, wishing Loki would go away and let you be disgusting in peace.

It’s bad enough he’s been through all your sicknesses with you, rubbing your back with a cool hand whenever you vomit into the toilet, cleaning up your snot-filled tissues, letting you drool all over his leather shirts whenever you fall asleep on him.

Just thinking about it makes you start sniffling, tears welling in your eyes and you hold the sheet tighter over your head, dreading the moment Loki hears you crying.

The crying is gross, too. You hate how easily you cry these days—the other night Loki offered you a foot rub and you burst into tears, unable to believe that he, Loki, a god, a prince, a king, would ever actually stoop low enough to touch your feet.

The tears were also partially because you really, really wanted a foot rub—those swollen ankles hurt like a bitch.

You can feel a tear sliding down your cheek, which only brings a new wave of them to your eyes as you see Loki’s silhouette just sitting there next to you, waiting for you to come out.

He’s picking at the comforter of the bed, humming quietly to himself and leaning back on his hands.

That little shit. Why does he always look so good??

You sniff loudly, just to see what he does.

“Come out from there,” he sighs, rubbing a hand up and down your thigh. “Come out here and talk to me, I want to listen to you.”

Another shake of your head and this time you don’t even know why you’re being so stubborn.

Loki sighs again, his head dropping back before he rolls over to hold himself over you. He places his hands on either side of your face, smoothing the sheet you’re hiding under tight over your face, and then he kisses you.

His lips are perfectly warm right now, even with a layer of fabric keeping your skin from touching, and you can’t help but not fight when he starts carefully pulling the sheet away from your face.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs again once he sees your tearstained face. “Is this…because I called you beautiful?”

The tears well up again and you nod, afraid to open your mouth and start sobbing.

“I can’t apologise for that,” he gently explains, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “I truly believe that you are beautiful, simply…indescribable.”

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper hoarsely, pulling the sheet up to your teary eyes.

“No.” He smiles and tugs the sheet away again. “I love you, my wife, my beautiful, pregnant wife, with all your drool and vomit and swollen ankles. I wouldn’t trade any of that for anything else in this universe.”

“Fuckin’ sweet talker,” you mutter, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Damn silvertongue, always making me an emotional mess.”

He smiles at you with a little shrug, brushing away one last tear with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me what you need from me. I want to help you, my love.”

You let out a long breath through pursed lips, staring up at your husband as you regain control of your tear ducts—nearly impossible, but hey, you try.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he smiles, long eyelashes blinking beautifully as his eyes crinkle at the edges. “Do you want to, um…”

Leaning back against the headboard, he holds his arms out with a sheepish little grin.

“Of course, idiot.”

“There you go calling me an idiot again,” he sighs, immediately wrapping his arms around your chest when you clamber over to settle yourself between his legs. “You should be kinder to your poor husband, don’t you think? I did massage your feet, after all.”

Your elbow lands under his ribs and all the breath in his lungs leaves him in one big oof.

“You offered, dipshit.”

“…true.”

“You’re the worst.” Your head lolls back against his shoulder and you close your eyes, Loki’s scent making your head spin.

Peppermint, rainy forests, leather…

“I want mint chocolate chip ice cream,” you announce, head shooting off his shoulder just as he was starting to plant soft kisses along your jaw. “You smell like peppermint, I need peppermint, Loki, quick.”

“But we just got comfortable—”

“Magic it.” You snap your fingers a couple times, waving your hands around in front of you. “Poof. Ice cream. Or a candy cane. Or just a damn mint, c’mon, I just want peppermint!”

Loki sighs again and drops his head back against the headboard. “Do you have any idea how draining it is to pull food from thin air, my love?”

You twist around to gawk at him. “Uh…no, no, I don’t.”

“Right. Human.”

Your loving husband is too good to you, really; he waves his hands around, snaps his fingers in your face a few times just to make you giggle, putting on a show just to appease your demands.

“Peppermint ice cream.” The bowl materialises in his hand in a literal poof of green smoke, most likely unnecessary, and he brings it in front of you with a dramatic swipe of his arm. “For the pregnant woman with an idiot husband.”

“Who, me?” You smile and reach up to grab his jaw, tugging him down and pressing a sweet kiss to his chin. “Uh, my husband’s incredible, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Heat rushes to Loki’s face and he ducks his head, blushing harder when you poke a finger into his cheek with a laugh.

“You’re an idiot, my love.”

“Hey.” The spoonful of ice cream leaves your lips with a pout. “Be kinder to your poor wife, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, are you?” He squeezes your waist, bringing a shout of laughter from you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Shut up before I make you give me a foot rub again.

Stealing your spoon and taking a big heap of ice cream, he hums around the bite, raising his eyebrows at you. “I’ll be more than happy to rub any part of you, darling, you know this.”

“I hate you, dipshit.”

“Dipshit. I think I preferred idiot.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @vast-ish @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.23 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1ST 5:51 AM

Warren County, Illinois

Diego stopped walking and hit the little light on the side of his watch and looked at it. ‪5:51.‬

When will this stupid rain stop? He thought, beginning to walk again.

He hated this part of the walk. The trailer park he lived in with his mom was out in the middle of nowhere, and this time of year, when it was still dark in the early mornings, you couldn't see anything out here. Leighton dropped him off most nights, but he didn't have the heart to have her come pick him up this early. I don’t think we’ve reached that phase of our relationship yet, he smiled to himself.

It's cool, he thought, only three more paychecks and then I can put a down payment on a new ride.

🎃

Gabriel Couture had been dozing. He would never have admitted it to anyone, certainly not his wife and definitely not any other trucker, even though every single one of them had at one time or another caught themselves starting to doze on a long haul. Just like any other time, you only knew you were dozing when you woke up and things were different than when they were just a moment ago.

His favorite program on the radio had just ended and the station was now airing the morning news. A man had been on there talking about some serial killers from Mississippi when all of a sudden he had heard an electronic beeping noise, and now there was a girl on the radio talking about where to go to get the best “tropical tan and bikini wax”.

That means it had been at least thirty seconds that Gabriel had been drowsing behind the wheel.

Very scary, he thought.

He thought of that video in trucking school they had shown him about the distance the truck traveled when you merely took your eyes off the road long enough to shoot a glance at the Qualcomm screen. It was like two football fields or something like that.

The Qualcomm had been the thing responsible for the electronic beeping. A robotic woman's voice came through the speakers, temporarily cutting out the commercial audio on the radio:

“You have....thirty...minutes...left in your legal time to drive. Please make arrangements to pull over.”

Good thing I only got about fifteen minutes left, Gabriel thought and picked up the can of Monster Energy drink that sat in his cup holder. He shook it, hearing a few drops of liquid at the bottom of the can, he put it to his mouth and stuck his tongue out to catch the last precious bit.

It was warm and tasted like piss.

🔪

“Why do you have to live so far out in the middle of fucking nowhere!?” Kyndra groaned, checking her phone for the time.

Brad wasn't listening, he was wiping the inside of the windshield with a Liberty Burger wrapper he had found in the center console of the Mustang. “God damn I can't see shit!” He hissed.

“Well, you're the one who wanted to smoke a damn bowl in the car,” Zoey said, “It's raining like crazy and we couldn't open the window to let the smoke out, what did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn't think it would fog up like this,” Brad said, turning the control on the dash from hot to cold.

“Stop playing with that and watch the road,” Kyndra snapped.

“I'm trying to defrost the window!” He roared back.

“Well it doesn't matter if it's hot or cold air, it's still gonna clear the window,”

“That's not true, it needs hot air!” Brad yelled.

“It's fucking roasting in here,” Kyndra turned the dial back to cold.

“I'm pretty sure you need cold air to clear the window,” Zoey said.

The mustang hydroplaned and this time it seemed like Brad barely caught hold of it. Zoey fell to the side on the backseat and the pipe rolled off her lap and hit the floorboards with a clang. Kyndra screamed.

“My pipe!” Bellowed Brad.

“I got it...” Zoey's muffled voice came from the back.

“Watch the fucking road!” Kyndra yelled. She wiped the windshield with the arm of the sweatshirt Brad had let her borrow.

🎃

Gabriel stretched his neck and caught the sight of the headlights out of his passenger mirror. His first thought was that it had to be a cop by the way they were moving. He had seen plenty of cops on the road that night, most in a big hurry, most with their lights on, and most had passed him. He took his foot off the gas and prepared to be passed by this one now, only it came right up on him and paused.

He could see from the lights it wasn't a cop. It was a sports car of some sort...looked kind of old. It eased closer until it was directly behind his trailer and out of sight from his mirrors. The only thing that made his presence known was the halo of light that now shone in both mirrors emanating from either side of his cab.

Gabe blinked a few times to try and perk up a little.

Stupid tailgaters, he thought.

🔪

Zoey popped up from the backseat. “Got it,” she held up the pipe. “It had rolled under the....shit watch out!”

“I know..I know” Brad said, easing off the gas, his foot turned slightly to the left to cover the brake, but even he knew better than to mash it hard in the rain.

Kyndra put her hand up on the ceiling of the Mustang as the trailer of a semi-truck emerged from the veil of rain to dominate the view beyond their slowly un-fogging windshield.

“I got double lines,” Brad murmured, “When I get the dotted line I'll pass him.”

Kyndra looked at him like he had three eyes, “What? You're not going to fuckin' pass him now! Not in this rain.”

“You said we needed to hurry!” Brad snarled.

“We're already late,” Zoey said, “No reason to kill us.”

“God I fucking hate semitrucks!” Brad moaned.

🎃

“Jeez Lloyd! I can't barely see a dang thing!” Lee whined, he was elbows up on the steering wheel, looking so far ahead through the rain drops, his forehead was nearly touching the glass of the windshield.

Lloyd sat on the passenger seat next to him, calmly counting the cash he had pulled in fistfuls from Raj Gudipati's cash register.

“I know brother,” he said calmly, not looking up, “I've been driving in the shit all night.”

“It looks like it's raining even harder now!” Lee said.

Lloyd ignored him. “Jesus fuck!” he moaned, tossing the cash into the glove compartment. “Seventy eight dollars and sixty four cents! That's all that Indian fucker had on him in the whole register.”

“He probably has to do cash drops every hour like we had to at the restaurant.” Lee said.

“No shit,” Lloyd said, picking up the pack of Marlboros in the center console, pulling one out, and lighting it. “Whole world's going to be computerized before you know it. Computers gonna tell us when to eat, when to shit, when to fuck...you watch!”

Lee goofy-laughed, “I saw a show on TV that said it was a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Damn right,” Lloyd said, taking a drag. He cracked his window a bit to blow the smoke out. The whooshing sound of rain filled the cab, drowning out the music. Some water dripped on his right shoulder so he scooted closer to his brother. “We are in the last days little brother.”

“Amen to that.” Lee replied.

Lloyd turned up the radio to block out the rain.

🔪

I wish he'd just pass me, Gabriel thought.

He knew the person behind him wouldn't because of the double lines, but he didn't care. Nothing made a trucker nervous like some jackass so far up his rear he couldn't see him in the mirrors.

Maybe if I slow down a little, he'll get tired and just go around me. He thought and backed off the gas.

🎃

“God what the fuck!” Brad moaned and slightly leaned on the brake.

“Chill out Brad, it's okay.” Zoey said calmly from the back. She had extended her hand and Kyndra was now holding it.

“What the fuck is he slowing down for?”

“Who cares Brad, just chill, we're turning off up here anyway.” Kyndra said. She closed her eyes, she didn't want to watch anymore.

“We haven't even reached the Superfuel yet!”

Zoey and Brad made eye contact in the rear-view mirror. “Stop,” she mouthed.

Brad took a deep breath and sighed.

🔪

“That's right,” Gabriel chuckled to himself. “Take a little bit of that.”

His speedometer fell from 45 to 30. Any slower and he was going to have to downshift. The headlights behind him peaked out the passenger side and then the driver's side mirror. He was poking out for a peak around him.

He's gonna pass any second. Gabriel thought.

The lights peaked again.

“Awww...you're a Mustang,” Gabriel saw. Probably '77 '78...looked orange, but it was hard to tell in the dark and rain. Could have been red.

Whatever, Gabriel thought, Ford's suck...now just pass me.

Headlights coming toward them caught his eyes. His foot moved to cover the brake.

🎃

Lights seemed to appear all around Diego at once—as if a UFO was landing on top of his head. Diego looked behind him and saw the headlights of a truck coming. He knew in almost a second it was the truck that had pulled in to the Superfuel Deluxe as he had been leaving. He remembered the bluish tint to the headlights. In front of him, coming up the hill were the lights of a tractor-trailer. Diego side stepped off the pavement and into the grass. His shoe sank down into a deep dark puddle with a splash and he felt his shoe fill with water.

Awww man, he thought.

🔪

“I can't take it anymore!” Brad roared and stomped the gas, cutting the steering wheel to the left.

“No Brad!” Zoey roared. Kyndra felt Zoey's hand clench hers and she opened her eyes.

🎃

Lee and Lloyd had seen the truck, and had really thought nothing of it, even though they probably should have. Most every trucker in the area had heard their truck's description by now on their CB Radio and was on the lookout for them.

Lee was just trying to concentrate on keeping in his own lane as the big rig passed, and Lloyd was leaning forward to ash his cigarette when the two headlights of an orange 1978 mint condition Ford Mustang darted out in front of them from behind the trailer.

The truck and the mustang hit each other head on without even braking. Ordinarily a truck that size would have split open a sports-car like a can of tuna-fish, but the Mustang was old, with a big hood and a strong chassis. Instead, the front of the mustang sort of slid underneath the truck, the bumper of which crunched down on top of the windshield. Brad had been leaning forward to be able to see and the steal bumper of Booger's truck exploded his head like a watermelon. Kyndra's legs were cut off at the thighs as the weight of the truck sliced down into the cab like one of those knives in that infomercial Brad was sleeping through only hours before. The top half of Kyndra's body lifted, hit the roof, flipped over her headrest, and fell into the backseat.

Zoey had taken off her seat-belt earlier to find the pipe. Her body flew forward as if shot out of a cannon, crashing through the windshield which diced her up like a wood-chipper, seconds before the weight of the truck pulverized every bone she had in her body above the waist. She had instinctively raised her arm at the last moment to cover her face and her left hand was torn from her body and plopped on the floor in front of the passenger seat, right between her girlfriend's feet.

Neither Lloyd or Lee Chumway had been wearing their seat-belts. Lloyd had been leaning forward, ashing his cigarette, so he had catapulted forward immediately, exiting through the windshield at the same moment the airbag deployed. The airbag caught him at ‪the shins‬ and merely slowed his launch, causing him to bounce off the back windshield of the Mustang, his body rolling about forty yards across the highway, before coming to a rest in the center of the road atop the double yellow lines. Lee's body had shot forward but the airbag deployed, shoving him back into the seat. Unfortunately for him, the force of the collision forced his head to snap back, causing a basalar skull fracture in the back of his head and neck. He slumped over against the driver's side window as blood began to pour from his nose, ears, and eyes.

🔪

The collision occurred directly outside the driver's side door of Gabriel's truck and he instinctively jerked his steering wheel to the right and slammed down on the brake. His tractor wheels locked up, the pilot tire on the passenger side struck a muddy rut on the shoulder of the road. This broke the front axle of the tractor immediately. The trailer did not respond to the sudden drop in speed very well, this on top of the fact that he was running empty...and therefore light.

The trailer hitch compressed into the fifth wheel, the back six wheels came off the ground about eight inches and then bounced like basketballs for nearly six feet before beginning a tilt and skid to the left. This caused enough torque to pull the trailer on it's side, taking the cab with it. Gabriel was pulled over, his head smacked his driver's side window, knocking him unconscious immediately, and shattering his left shoulder and arm.

🎃

Diego didn't have time to react as the trailer slid toward him. He dove to the left, but the roof of the trailer caught him while he was airborne, smacking him like a tennis racket hits a tennis ball. Diego was thrown into the trees, striking a sycamore upside-down about three feet off the ground. He bounced off the massive trunk and landed face down about four feet in front of the tree line in a large patch of standing water. His heart stopped as soon as he had hit the tree and he was dead before he even hit the puddle.

The trailer continued to drag across the road and unto the shoulder, slicing a mile marker sign in two, the jagged stump of the stake that held it into the ground lacerated the fuel tank of the tractor as it followed it's own trailer's skid through the muddy grass. The soft earth broke the truck's speed, bringing it to a stop about ten feet away from Diego's head. Diesel fuel mixed with oil and gasoline from Booger McFarlane's truck and Brad Doyle's mustang ran across the road like a river and pooled around Diego's body which had created a depression in the earth.

Brad Doyle's lighter, with the skulls on it, was perched precariously in his lap, and had amazingly remained that way throughout the entire accident. As a result of basically losing his own head and brain however, his right leg went into a short, but violent spasm about five minutes after the accident, thrusting into the gas pedal, releasing more fuel into the road in a gush. The lighter fell from his lap, slicing through a gash in the floorboards that had opened up when the front end structure of the vehicle had been partially torn from the frame. The lighter struck the asphault below and aresulting spark ignited the trail of fuel underneath the Mustang. A snake of fire raced across the surface of the highway and exploded Diego's body into flames.

This burned only mere moments however, the fire was promptly extinguished by the extreme deluge of rain that continued to pound down on central Illinois. The vehicles had not had time to catch, and soon, everything was silent and still..except for the sounds of the storm.

NEXT>>

[carrotcouple]

I was thinking this morning about how chibi ebisu interacts with the other gods of fortune (I'm counting yato bc he's a fuckin god of fortune okay) but kofuku and bisha and the others are p used to him reincarnating a lot right? do they have any traditions or like pranks they play on him since he doesn't know? does ebisu leave himself notes about the pranks so he knows they're coming? do the shinki get involved? basically how do the other gods of fortune interact with newly reincarnated ebisu

OK, but this is like a huuuuuuuuge issue for Ebisu. You know the little black notebook he’s always carrying around?

The one. He’s got gazillions of those filled with schedules, appointments, thoughts, doodles, little depressing ‘I wanna sleep forever’s written there and of course, warnings for the next reincarnation cause well shit, we ain’t gonna have Kofuku going around and kissing every new baby Ebisu just cause he’s sweet and cute, it would signal the apocalypse.

Well, obviously when it comes to Kofuku, the shinki intervene as well, always carrying around sacred purifying salt if they get wind that she might be in Takamagahara. Kofuku dealt with right there. 

Then of course there’s Ookuninushi. Listen, this man is a force of nature, the head of Izumo, the people’s favorite and he wears sunglasses with yukatas and rides motorbikes with pet bunnies in tow. Friend or not, Ebisu must have left notes to himself ‘don’t let this is weird af man influence you, although he’s a good guy’. Ookuninushi in normal circumstances, is probably like: big, really strange dad that’s never home for Ebisu. He brings Chibisu treats whenever he drops by, checks what he’s been up to and ‘hey how’s the reading going, wanna stroke my pet bunny’s fur?’ Moreover, Ookuninushi probably also really annoys Chibisu cause he’s always treating Ebisu like a little kid, regardless of his age really.

Look at his face, ‘no sorry, Ookuninushi, I really appreciate you came to see me and you’re like one of my best estranged God friends, but I’m like what - thirty something now. I’m a big boy, stop poking your nose into my business.’ So obviously, Ebisu leaves behind notes like ‘hey I know you want to get mad and pouty cause he’s making fun of you for reading so slow, but don’t take it out on the black scraper fish, kay?’ (reference to ‘picture book lessons’ omake). ‘Also p.s. beware of hugs, there’s big and warm and nice and disgusting. NO HUGS.’

Then comes Bisha, of course. At the top of all the Bisha related pages in those little black notebooks ‘See if she’s tired of her hafuri yet or if her hafuri is tired of her. Lol, steal him.’ Ebisu doesn’t know how to handle women, especially really nice ‘lemme take care of you, I’m mom material’ types. He really likes it, he does, but he’s never wanted to get close to his fellow Gods cause he dabbled in ayakashi naming. So he probably has a note like ‘don’t let your guard down around her, don’t let the walls weaken.’ cause really all his life he’s wanted a mom figure and Bisha is well Bishamom. Bisha brings Chibisu flowers, memorizes all of his favorites, brings by anything that he’s mentioned even once like ‘hey, Bishamonten san, have you heard of taro bubble milk, I hear the humans like it a lot’ and then she brings it to him the next day. Listen, I see Ebisu as the kind of person who grows up really curious about a lot of things but is also so lazy he’s just like ‘no too troublesome to deal with,’ that describes his relationship with Bisha and so he doesn’t get close to her either. In legendary black notebook number 150 ‘she’s not your mom, so you can just hide whenever her mom-side takes over’.

In relation to the others apart of the ‘Seven Lucky Gods’:

Juroujin - Ebisu is a kind kid, he takes care of baby kittens, feeds the poor, helps the eldery. So basically, although no one knows wtf Juroujin is even talking about as his toothless mouth chatters in time to the violent trembling of his spine, Chibisu helps him walk to meetings even though he has perfectly capable shinki and the like. So he probably has notes in his notebook along the lines of ‘find a good day to take Juroujin to the dentist’, ‘get Iwami to check out his schedule for days he needs help crossing the streets’ and the like. Juroujin will give him some really old molasses candy, pat him on the head for anything nice he does and go on his way.

Hotei - Ebisu hates Hotei with a passion. Here Ebisu is working his ass off till three in the morning ‘hey I’m a fifteen year old and I’ve already had like five shots of super black coffee already and the day hasn’t even started’ and Hotei sits there eating pizza with earphones in his ears, seriously this guy was sitting a Kamuhakari with earphones plugged in and not giving a damn about the Japanese Economy like ‘Excuse me, sir, but about your food expenses, I’ve got a pretty long speech,’

So in the end his notes on Hotei amount to ‘seriously, don’t pay attention to him, it’ll itch you for the next thousands of years otherwise.’ Chibisu stares sometimes and Hotei will randomly offer him a bag of chips if he notices Chibisu staring and that remains that. They keep their safe distance.

Fukurokuju - In legendary black notebook 134: ‘old fashioned man, a little over reactive but over all makes sense, having a conversation with him isn’t so bad.’ also added in a little scribble underneath ‘it’s fun teasing him’. Cause face it, Ebisu likes teasing old men, do you even see what he does with Kuraha? Moreover, the rest of the Seven Lucky Gods love teasing him too, so Chibisu actively takes part in pranking him and somewhere along the way, every Chibisu records an elaborate ‘hey I’m back from the dead prank’ and it gets better every time with every new incarnation trying to one over the previous ones and of course, the rest of the Seven Lucky Gods pitch in to help and Fukurokuju is caught in the trap every time.

Benzaiten - Ebisu is proabably kind of wary of her. She gives the ‘I’m a tiger with my claws in only at the moment’ big sister kind of vibe. But he does have notes like ‘be polite to her, if you are, she visits with homemade cookies and fuzzy slipper and sweaters’. He probably has elaborately written notes on how to knit cause if he doesn’t at least know how it works she slams in through the front door like his worst nightmare and forces him to learn without Kunimi’s help (it doesn’t work, she always ends up passing out while driving herself crazy from trying to make him even hold the needles right.)

As for pranks, when he’s younger, they’re much subtler pranks. The Seven Lucky Gods will somehow switch his grey vest with a bright pink one when Kunimi or Iwami aren’t looking, or sneaking into Ebisu’s office and filling it with balloons or convincing Ebisu that helium balloons are normal balloons filled with sweet tasting air ‘go ahead and taste the air while I whip out my phone to record some really good stuff’. When Ebisu hits teenager stage them Ookuninushi starts to legit misplace all of his clothes and drive Ebisu and his shinkis crazy. When Ebisu hits adult stage, all hell breaks forth and all the Seven Lucky Gods are in on these pranks and because it’s unfair to only target Ebisu, they all start forming secret alliances and betraying each other and crawling in through each others windows and into their closets and bathrooms at like four in the morning. It becomes the worst war zone ever. Takamagahara is on red alert and holding it’s breath until the war dissolves. And as expected Ebisu has a secret bookshelf of past notes labelled as ‘War Survival 101′.

And of course this all comes down the most important note handed down to each Ebisu ‘Listen kid, if you don’t learn how to read at the speed of light so you can read all these notes, you’re dead meat. Good luck, my work here is done.’

Bonus:

He’s still compiling information on a certain God.

[redditnosleep]

I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell

by searchandrescuewoods.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (Final)

I apologize for the short update, guys. Things have gotten a little crazy around here, and I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update going forward. I really appreciate all the support you guys have given me, and while I only have a couple of stories to share with you, I'll be interested to see what you all think!

A firefighter who was helping us at the training op told me about a call he'd gone on, supposedly to help rescue a kid from an absolutely massive tree. He said they didn't give him details, just that they needed him to come out and help because they lacked the proper equipment. He'd been called out specifically because this thing was so huge that the SARs didn't feel safe trying to climb it. He'd been a tree-trimmer before joining the VFD, so it was easy enough for him to grab his old equipment and come help out. He was led out about two miles, and the team stopped at one of the biggest trees in the area and pointed up. He laughed and asked the op captain how the kid had gotten up there, made some joke about the old 'cat in a tree' thing, but the captain just shook his head and told him to get up there and get the kid down. He said he knew something was up, but he didn't push it. He said that as he climbed this tree, he started wondering if they were playing a prank on him. 'There was no way this kid should have been able to climb this fuckin' thing. It was massive at the base, but about halfway up it started tapering, and I almost had to turn back a few times because I really didn't think it was gonna hold me.' But he said he kept going, and when he was just about at the top, he saw a flash of blue in the branches. 'I saw the kid's shirt sort of caught in a branch, and I called out to him and told him to come near me if he could, but he didn't say anything. I kept moving, calling the kid's name and telling him not to be scared, that I was there to help him. By the time I got to him, I knew he wasn't gonna answer me. I found him, or what was left of him, cradled in the fork of a branch, and the fact that he was up there was sheer luck. If he'd fallen any other way, he'd have come crashing down. It wouldn't have mattered though, because this kid was dead long before he ended up in that tree. I don't know who put him there, or how, or why, but it was fucking sick. Kid's intestines had popped out of his mouth, and were hanging in the branches. It was like some sick fucking Christmas tree, the way they were draped all over everything. I got a better look and saw they'd even popped out of his ass; his guts were hanging out the bottom of his pants. His eyes were gone, I assume shoved out from whatever force caused him to fucking pop like a stress ball. You ever seen a body that's been floating in water for a long time, how their tongues kind of swell up and stick out? His was like that. I remember because there were flies crawling all over it. I think I must have gone into shock, because... man I just pushed that kid down with a stick I broke off a branch. Just kind of poked him until he fell. I don't know why I did that... I almost lost my job because of that. But man the thought of hauling that kid down over my shoulder the whole way, gathering his guts up and coiling them around me like rope so they wouldn't get snagged... I couldn't do it. I've seen a lot of dead kids. More than I'd ever admit. I've seen a kid who hid in a full bathtub during a house fire; boiled him alive, turned him into literal soup. But this... I don't know what did this, but the thought of touching that kid's body made me feel like I was gonna lose my mind. I heard him hit the ground and I figured everyone would freak out, but they knew he was dead when they sent me up there. They didn't say anything, but they didn't shout or freak out or anything. I got to the bottom and I started to get up in the captain's face, asking him who he thought he was sending me up there when they knew damn well the kid was dead. But he just told me it was none of my concern, and thanked me for getting the evidence down. I remember he said that, I remember it specifically because it was so weird to hear it phrased that way. 'The evidence'. Like he wasn't even a person. Like he'd never been a little kid who got lost and had something fucking unspeakable happen to him. The captain had a crew lead me back out of the woods, but he and two others stayed behind, and I thought that was weird. Why wouldn't they have me help get the kid out? I tried asking but the guys leading me out just told me they couldn't discuss an open case.' I asked him what he thought had happened to the kid, and he got really pensive and thought about it for a bit. 'I would have said a crush injury, based on how his guts came out like that, but with those injuries you see massive contusions under the skin, obvious trauma. This wasn't like that. It was almost like that kid got caught in a big vacuum and had his guts sucked out. But even then, there was no trauma. None at all. It bothers me, man. It bothers the hell out of me.'

One of the vets at the training op reads NoSleep, and he recognized my stories. He knows me pretty well, and we've swapped stories before. He asked if he could share something he's noticed about the stairs, and some thoughts he had. 'I'm really glad you decided to share these. I think it's important that people be aware of what's out there, especially since the Forest Service is doing such a good job at covering it all up.' I asked him what he meant. 'What do you mean, what do I mean? The lack of any kind of media attention? No coverage of missing kids, or bodies found miles from where they got lost in the first place? David Paulides hit this right on the head, the FS is doing everything they can to keep people coming here, even if it isn't safe. I mean, to be fair, it's not like these things happen every day. But the numbers add up, and it's worth looking into. Especially the stairs. I was surprised you didn't mention the flipped ones.' I didn't know what he was talking about, I couldn't remember him ever talking about something like that. He seemed somewhat incredulous. 'Dude, I can't believe you've been on this long without seeing them. No one told you about them?' I shrugged and asked him to elaborate. 'Well there's the normal stairs, the ones that pop up when we're out a ways. I know you know about them. But sometimes I've run across ones that are flipped upside down. I guess it would be like if you had a doll house, and the stairs were a separate piece. Now take that, flip it upside down so the top step is stuck in the dirt, and put it out in the woods. They're like that. I don't see them as often but they're odd, to say the least. Makes me think of footage taken after a tornado, when houses are all blown apart and random things are left standing, like chimneys and garden walls. Those ones freak me out more that the normal ones because I can't really write those off as easily.' I don't scare very easily, like most of us who work out here, but that idea stuck with me, and it bothers me. I'm going to try and find more out about them. He also mentioned how many people were bothered by the guy with no face. He got really excited and told me he'd seen something similar. 'I was out on a training exercise a few years ago. I was camped out in my tent and I heard someone walking around outside of camp. We're told not to wander far, which you know, so I wondered if maybe it was a rookie who'd gotten up to pee and couldn't find his way back. Remember that guy in our group a few years back who almost fell of the damn mountain? Well I'm paranoid about that happening again, so I got up to see what was going on. I went to the edge of camp and I called to whoever it was and told them that camp was this way. But they kept going back out into the woods, so I went after them. I know it was stupid but I was half-asleep and I just really didn't want to deal with some idiot getting hurt. I followed this thing on a dead-straight course for about a mile, and then it stopped on the edge of a little river. I could see the outline of it because the water was reflecting the moon, and it looked just like an ordinary guy. He had a pack on, and it looked like he was facing me. I asked if he was okay, if he needed help, and he cocked his head like he didn't understand me. I always have my pocket knife on me, and it's got a little thumblight attached to it, so I turned that on and lit up his chest, so I wouldn't blind him. He was breathing slow and deep, so I wondered if he was sleepwalking. I went closer and asked him again if he was okay. I moved the light up, and something didn't seem right, so I stopped. He kept breathing in this real slow, deep breaths, and I sort of figured out gradually that that's what was bothering me. It was like he was pretending to breathe, but not actually doing it. His breaths were too even and deep, and all his movements were exaggerated, like his shoulders going up and his chest moving. I told him to identify himself, and he made this muffled noise. I moved the light up and I shit you not, this guy had no face. Just smooth skin. I freaked out, and I sort of fumbled my light, but I saw him move toward me but he didn't actually move. I don't know how to explain it, but one second he was at the edge of the river and the next he was five feet from me. I never looked away or blinked, it was like he moved so fast my brain couldn't keep up. I tripped and fell on my ass and I could see this line open up on his throat. It stretched up to his ears, and his head tilted back and he smiled at me with his throat. There wasn't any blood, just this gaping dark hole, and I swear he smiled at me with this gash in his throat. I got up and I ran as fast as I could back to camp. I couldn't hear him following me, but I felt like he was always right behind me, even though when I looked back I couldn't see him. I calmed down when I got back to camp; the fire was still going and I guess that pack mentality of being with other people made me stop and breathe a little. I waited by the fire to see if he'd follow me there, but I didn't hear anything else for a few hours, so I went back to bed. I know it sounds weird, but the whole thing was just so surreal that it was almost like I immediately wrote it off as my imagination.'

We were telling ghost stories one night before bed just to scare each other and poke fun at whoever got creeped out. Most of the time it's the rookies, but one woman told a story that actually managed to get under my skin a little bit, and I know the same was true for others. She said it was true, but then again, every ghost story told around a campfire is true. Somehow, though, I don't think she was making it up. It had that ring of truth that only really traumatizing events have. She said that when she was a kid, she and her friend used to go out in the woods behind her house a lot. She lived in northern Maine, where there's a lot of dense, unpopulated national forest. She said the woods up there aren't like they are here. They're so thick in places that the trees block out the sun almost completely. She and her friend grew up there, so they weren't scared of being out there alone, but they did always maintain a sense of caution in certain areas. She said it was never really talked about, but they always knew not to go more than a mile or two beyond their homes. The adults never said why, but it was an unspoken rule that no one ventured out that far. She and her friend made up stories about bears as big as houses that lived out there, and they used to scare each other by hiding and making growling noises while the other searched for them. She said one summer, there was a series of awful storms that blew down a lot of trees, and set one part of the forest a few miles behind her house on fire. Fire crews got it under control, but she said some of them came back 'not quite the same.' 'It was like they'd been to war. You could tell who'd really gotten scared because they had the same look on their faces, I think it's called shell-shock. My friend and I said they were like walking dead people. They didn't smile or say anything if you went up to them, and most of them left town as soon as everything was over. I asked my parents about it, but they said they didn't know what I was talking about. Once everyone was told the woods were safe again, my friend and I decided to try and hike out to where the fire had been. We didn't tell out parents where we were going, and it was pretty exciting to think that we were disobeying them like that. We hiked out about two miles or so, and we started seeing burnt trees and stuff. I remember my friend got really upset because we found the skeleton of a deer curled up under a tree, and I practically had to drag her away. She wanted to bury it, but I didn't want her touching it because its antlers were weird. I can't remember why, I just remember thinking that there was something wrong with them and I didn't want either of us going near it. The farther we went, the more burnt everything got. Eventually, there were no standing trees, and it was like being on another planet. Almost nothing green, just brown and black everywhere. We were standing there looking at it all, and we both heard someone shouting in the distance. I panicked because I thought it was my dad, and that he was going to tell me I was grounded. My friend broke off and went to hide behind a big rock, because she said she didn't want to be caught out here. Her parents had forbidden her to come out in the woods at all, and she'd lied and told them we were going to a movie. I followed her, and we kept listening. I could hear this voice getting closer, and I realized they were calling for help. I thought maybe it was some hiker who'd gotten lost and needed directions back to town. That used to happen all the time, so I was used to helping people out. I heard him following my voice, so I kept calling out until I saw him running in the distance. He got closer and I could see that his face was all red. I told my friend to give me her pack, because she had a first aid kit. She made this noise like she was grossed out, and she asked if I saw his face. I told her to shut up, and I jogged up to meet him. I stopped about halfway and when he stopped in front of me I could see that his nose and lips and part of his forehead were all gone. It was like they'd been sliced clean off. He was bleeding bad, and I saw that the knees of his pants were red too. I took a step back but I was too scared to move much, and he grabbed my shoulders. It felt like I got a shock, and he jerked back. He started babbling, and I couldn't tell what he was saying, except that he kept asking how long he'd been gone. He asked me where 'his unit' was, but I just shook my head. He looked me over and he saw my Walkman and he screamed. He just kept babbling and touching his face, and I realized he wasn't wearing the right clothing. He had some kind of weird grey cloth jacket and almost formal pants on, and the jacket had these weird buttons and red borders on it. I kept shaking my head and I told him I couldn't understand what he was saying. I went to open the first aid kit but he just screamed again and said the only thing I could really understand: 'Don't touch me! You'll make me go back there!' After that, he ran off, and I could hear him screaming the whole time. When I couldn't hear him anymore, I turned around, and my friend was crying. I just turned around and started walking back toward town. She asked me over and over what had happened and who that was, but I didn't say anything. When we got home, I told her I didn't want to play in the woods with her anymore. We're still friends, but we don't talk about that guy. Not ever.'

I'll update as soon as I'm able, guys. I appreciate the continued support!

[choisgirls]

Okay so let's pretend that the RFA were able to talk to their respective MC in a language besides Korean so they've been assuming for the longest time ever that MC can't speak Korean. One day, they come home and hear her singing a song creepily in Korean and once they find her she's just laughing her ass off. How would the RFA react? I'm sorry I just have a sudden urge to see someone write this if your requests aren't open feel free to disregard this~

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long omfg ;A; But I hope I got what you were talking about??? ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

               -Sinceyou didn’t start out speaking Korean in the chatroom, he just assumed youcouldn’t

               -OOOOOA FOREIGNER, YOOSUNG IS HYPED

               -Afterthe two of you got close, he came home early from his classes one day- notknowing you were in your shared home

               -He wasin the middle of changing, shirt halfway over his head, when he noticedsinging?

               -It wasa standard Korean lullaby, but it was being sung quiet and very slowly

               -HEACTUALLY GOT SO SCARED THAT HE GOT STUCK IN HIS SHIRT

               -Triedto run out of the house, thinking it was a ghost, but ran into the wall-resulting in him falling on his ass

               -Youpull the shirt off his head, asking if he was alright

               -“MCWE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE, THERE’S A GHOST!!!! A G H O S T!!!”

               -He’sup on his feet, trying to drag you out of the house yoosung what about yourshirt

               -“Aghost? What do you mean? What makes you say that?”

               -“Ijust heard someone sing this lullaby all slow and creepy and we just, WE GOTTAGO”

               -Superconfused when you bust out laughing

               -omgyou weren’t laughing at the fact he had no shirt on, were you???

               -“Thatwasn’t a ghost, I was singing!”

               -Onesecond, two seconds, three seconds…. ding! Light bulb!

               -“Youlearned a Korean lullaby? When did you do that?”

               -“Uh,years ago. When I learned Korean. Didn’t you know that?

               -whenyou fuckin’ WHAT

               -He iscompletely mindblown to find out you speak Korean??

               -Thoughnow he’s really embarrassed aboutjust assuming you didn’t know the language

               -Superhappy to talk in either language, it makes him feel cool tbh

               -iscompletely pissed off when he finds out you sent a video of him running intothe wall to saeyoung

*ZEN:

               -Healways asks for an extra copy of his scripts in *insert mc native languagehere* so you can practice with him!!

               -Younever understood why he did that, maybe he was just trying to be nice?

               -But healways did that with you? With everything?

               -AnyDVD’s, CD’s, absolutely anything he brings home is in your native language

               -Doeshe think you’re more comfortable that way?

               -Obviously,you appreciate it but it’s kind of like…..

               -There’sno need to go so out of his way to do all of that for you!

               -Oneday, you were taking a shower and decided to sing one of the songs from hismost recent play

               -Youlove Zen and love that he’s happy with his career but god daMN THAT SONG ISSTUCK IN YOUR HEAD AND YOU ARE BEYOND DONE WITH IT

               -So youmade fun of it by singing ridiculously, trying different voices, tones,anything you can think of

               -All ofa sudden, the bathroom door is thrown open, slamming against the wall

               -"MCIS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU SINGING LIKE THAT?? HAVE MY WORDS TOUCHED YOU SO DEEPLYTHAT YOU KNOW THEM BY HEART, DISPITE THEM BEING IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE?”

               -Youjust poke your head out of the shower to stare at him, watching as he starts totalk to himself about how beautiful his voice must for you to have learned itso quickly

               -“Doyou know the meaning??? I can give you a word by word translation!! Do you wantthat? DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THAT?”

               -“No?I mean, yeah… You play it all the time… because you’re learning it but Iknow the words on my own, thanks sweetheart”

               -You???Knew what the words meant??

               -Hejust kind of stares at you in disbelief before you roll your eyes and return totaking your shower

               -“Zen?Why are you still here? Go aw-” “YOU CAN SPEAK KOREAN”

               -Yousigh and agree that yes, you can speak Korean, and you’ve been able to thiswhole time

               -Hestarts crying??? What in the world???

               -“ICANNOT BELIEVE I DIDN’T KNOW THIS ABOUT MY LOVE! I’M A TERRIBLE MAN, DON’T LOOKAT ME, MC!” not looking at you anyway, zen, tryna shower here

               -“Savethe drama for your play later, sweetheart. It’s alright, I just never saidanything about knowing another language”

               -Literallyspent most of the rest of the day just pouting and feeling terrible that henever knew. You have to comfort him often because it was something neither ofyou ever really brought up way to go mc ya broke ya boyfriend

*JAEHEE:

               -Afterworking for Jumin for so long, she’s unfortunately learned to assume if youlook foreign, you might not speak other languages

               -Soshe’s already assumed you speak only your native language, so she automaticallyaccommodates to your needs

               -Thoughyou…. don’t need it??

               -Youfigured that she wanted to make things easier for you, which you appreciated,but you wanted to make things easy for her too!!

               -What’sfunny is that you’ve talked to her late at night, after she’s been up for days,in Korean so that it’s easier for her mind to process what you ask

               -Didshe pick up on it? Not at all. poor tired bby, someone help her

               -Sodespite the fact that you leave notes for her written in Korean, she just…hasn’t…. noticed?

               -Becauseshe still talks to you in your native tongue

               -Seriously,you’ve tried everything to make it blatantly obvious that you could speakKorean

               -Theeasiest way to tell her that, ‘hey, i don’t need you to translate convos forme, i promise’ is to just straight up tell her

               -Exceptyou didn’t get a chance to?

               -Youwere sweeping the house one day, belting out one of Zen’s songs from his latestmusical

               -Gettinginto it, you dance with the broom, dipping it dramatically

               -Duringyour dip though, you look up to find Jaehee standing in the doorway, at a lossfor words

               -“Oh…so.. you really do speak Korean.. I wasn’t going crazy, then”

               -SHELOOKED SO EMBARRASSED THAT YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT FEEL BAD

               -“I,um, I apologize for just assuming that you-”

               -Youcut her off when you pulled her into a quick dance around the living room,singing the previous song all over again

               -With aswift motion, you dipped her like you did the broom

               -Aquick peck to her lips sent her over the edge and she burst into giggles

               -“You’rea much better dance partner than the broom” you tell her in Korean, with awiggle of your eyebrows

               -Shepushes you away from her and laughs as she leaves the room, calling over hershoulder

               -“Maybeyou should learn a few more songs there, MC”

*JUMIN:

               -Alsoguilty of just assuming you only spoke your native language

               -Alsonever bothered to ask

               -Youdon’t even bother to tell him though because you’re lowkey salty about it

               -Like???He didn’t even ask???

               -Youlove him and all, but it’s been… how long? And he never even bothered to asKYOU IF YOU KNEW HIS LANGUAGE

               - damnmister trustfund kid

               -Butit’s actually really funny because he talks to Elizabeth in Korean

               -So hethinks you don’t know how much he’s praising her, or baby-talking her

               -ButyouKNOW

               -Andyou’re left wondering why he doesn’t talk to you like that sometimes

               - goddamn cat getting all the attention (kiDDING I LOVE U ELLY)

               -Butlet’s be honest, you love her just as much and do the same exact thing

               -Infact, you love to sing to her! And she loves it too!

               -Sheturns into a freaking motor box when you sing, she loves it soo much

               -So yousing to her every day, it makes her happy, makes you happy, everyone is happy

               -Oneday, you were singing to her, but Jumin actually came home early??

               -So heheard you singing too, and just sat down quietly next to you

               -Waitedpatiently until you finished the song before speaking

               -“So,you sing to Elizabeth?”

               -“Everyday, sweetheart! You just happened to catch the show”

               -Immediatelythought about asking Saeyoung to install some hidden microphone or something tocapture you singing every day

               - thatisnt creepy at all, dude

               -With aslight tilt of his head, he looked at you, eyes full of question

               -Youhad to fight the urge to kiss his cute little face, but it was worth it

               -“So,MC? You can speak Korean? Not just *insert native language here*?”

               -Younodded in agreement, looking down at Elly, petting her with a smile on yourface

               -“I’veknown this whole time… *pulls Elly up to face* But SOMEBODY *kisses Elly’snose* Never bothered asking. Did he? No, no he didn’t! He didn’t, did heElizabeth??”

               -Youshot him a side glare, watching as his face twisted into slight embarrassmentand back to a playful one before getting up to leave the room

               -“It’sokay, MC. I’ll test out how well you can pronounce those Korean words latertonight.”

*SAEYOUNG:

               -HeloVED your aCCENT

               -So hespoke to you in your native language just so he could hear it

               -Did heknow you could speak Korean?

               -Yeahprobably

               -DID HECARE? I’m hearing “no”

               -Did heremember, a long time later, that you could speak Korean?

               -Again,I am going with no

               -He’salways thinking about god knows what all the damn time so it isn’t surprisingthat he forgot you spoke Korean all together

               -Infact, you were hoping he did forget you spoke Korean, or your new plan wouldn’twork out how you wanted it to

               -Yousee, you and Saeyoung like to prank each other like crazy, but his last onereally irked you

               -(Imean come on??? Who in the world thinks it’s funny to sneak a permanent markerinto your pants pocket when you do laundry??? That rUINS YOUR CLOTHES)

               -So,you decided that revenge was in order, and you wanted nothing more than to scarehim to death

               -Aftera long set up with a creepy life-size doll trapped to an rc car, a couple ofspeakers hidden, and a ton of hidden cameras, you were ready for him to comehome

               -Whenhe got into the room and noticed the girl standing in the corner, heimmediately noped the hell out and tried leaving

               -Butyou locked the door! There is no escaping sweet revenge!

               -Youstarted to sing little kids nursery rhymes through a microphone, it comingthrough the hidden speakers broken and ominous

               -“noPE!NOPE NOPE NOPE. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU? I KNOW HOW TOFIGHT LITTLE GIRL, I’M NOT AFRAID TO KICK YOU IN THE FACE”

               -So youkept singing, stopping only to ask him to come play, in child-like voice

               -“NOI DON’T WANNA PLAY, JESUS CHRIST, SOMEONE LET ME OUT”

               -Youdecided to chase him around with the doll, using the wireless controller fromthe other room

               -Youdidn’t know he could scream in such a high pitch, I swear to god, dogs fromaround the world could hear it

               -He wasgetting out of that room, then and there. He broke down the door. Ran down thehallway and heard you laughing from another room

               -Hedidn’t even think about why you were laughing, he just jumped onto your lap,and latched onto you, hugging tight and burying his face against you

               -“MC!THERE’S A CREEPY DEMON CHILD IN THE OTHER ROOM IT’S CHASING ME, MC PLEASEPROTECT ME”

               -Butyou couldn’t even reply- you were laughing too hard. He looked around and sawyour set up of monitors, wireless controller, and microphone

               -Helooked up at you with a ton of mixed emotions

               -Firstof all he was still a little freaked out?? But he was also kinda pissed offthat you scared the hell out of him! But he’s also in awe that you set all thisup… and so in love with how hard you’re laughing…

               -HEDOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO F E E L

               -Takesa second to think about the situation and suddenly remembers

               -“Wait…you can speak Korean… I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU COULD DO THAT? WHAT THE HELL MC, ITHOUGHT YOU WERE SOME CREEPY LITTLE GIRL”

               -Yougive him an innocent smile, but based on the look he gave you once he stood upand walked away

               -He wasprobably going to use that fact against you for his revenge prank, and youweren’t positive you wanted to know what that was going to be

 *V:

               -Offthe bat, he asks which language you’re more comfortable speaking in

               -Whenyou said your own native language, he understood, and tried his best to accommodatefor you!

               -Eversince then he’s always making sure he can translate things for you, whether itbe signs or casual conversation

               -Youknew Korean but didn’t know if you were a strong enough speaker, which is whyyou initially told him you were comfortable with your first language

               -So,you secretly were testing out your language skills every time the two of youwent out!

               -Whenhe translated for you and you had gotten it right in your head, you were soexcited!

               -But hedidn’t know that ’s what you were doing??

               -Hejust always saw you light up and smile softly to yourself and it made him weAK

               -Was itbecause he was translating for you??

               -Didn’tknow exactly, but was definitely going to keep doing whatever he was doingbecause that loOK

               -IT WASSOOO PRECIOUS

               -But hefelt bad that he couldn’t go shopping with you one day because he had somepeople he had to see

               -Whatif you couldn’t read the signs?? What if you couldn’t talk to the people?? WhAtIf-

               -So he triedto make his meetings go as quickly as possible without being rude

               -And heran to meet you at your favourite coffee shop, where he knew you’d stop first!

               -As hewalked up behind you, getting ready to surprise you and order for you, he tooka step back when he heard you ordering perfectly fine in Korean

               -Youeven made small talk with the barista! In perfect Korean!

               -Whenyou turned around with your coffee, he stared at you in surprise, but he scaredthe shit out of you! You almost dropped your coffee!

               -“V!Hey! You scared me…. I thought you had to go meet a few people? Did somethinghappen? Are you alright?”

               -Youasked. In perfect Korean. Why did you doubt your language skills??

               -“Ithought you only knew *your native language of choice*? So I haven’t needed totranslate for you this whole time?”

               -Youcould see the disappointment in his eyes as you quickly shook your head (andhands) in embarrassment

               -“Nono no no, you asked me in the beginning if I was more comfortable with mynative language, which I am! I know Korean but I was afraid about gettingsomething wrong, so I really appreciated all of your translations! They help memake sure I’m learning and getting it all right!”

               -Explainingit to him was definitely the smart move because you watched as he went from sadpuppy to ecstatic pup knowing that he was able to help you learn new things andsolidify what you already knew!

               -Fromthen on, he always tries to let you figure it out first, then help you if youneed it!

               -Was heembarrassed that he always translated when you didn’t need it? Yes

               -Did heget over it quickly? Also yes. He’s a precious tol bean. He is alright withthis revelation.

*SAERAN:

               -Alsoknew from the start that you knew Korean

               -Hetalked to you from the beginning in Korean so he knew afterwards that you’dknow

               -Notlike you all of a sudden lost your knowledge on a full language….right?

               -Thatbeing said he just plain refuses to let you pretend like you can’t speak himlanguage

               -Everytime you try to talk to him in your native language he just kind of looks atyou with absolutely no emotion

               -“Hi,MC, speak in a language I know please, thanks”

               -Likeseriously

               -Thisman does not let you have any fun with it at all

               -Youeven tried to fake some sort of amnesia, too

               -To like,pretend you forgot how to speak Korean so he’d have to talk to you in yournative language

               -Did itwork? No

               -Hejust stared at you like you were stupid

               -He’ssuch a jERK

               -WHYCAN’T YOU JUST PLAY ALONG, SAERAN. JUST GIVE ME THIS ONE THING

               -Youeven try to mess with him in public

               -Youask him to order some food for you, asking him in your native language

               -Thecashier is confused but Saeran just stares at you

               -Hecompletely understands what you say, despite pretending that he doesn’t

               -Turnsback to the cashier and tells them that you’re getting nothing

               -WAITSAERAN PLEASE I WANT FOOD TOO

               -Untilthe day he slips up and responds to a question you ask him in your language

               -Youcelebrate, including a victory dance

               -Hejust curses at himself for messing up and letting you win

               -Thoughhe does think it’s really cute that you’re thisexcited about winning

               -Maybehe should let you win more often thAT WONT HAPPEN