#but oh man i miss automate

[gilbirda]

me after 1.6 dropped

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day nineteen: hate sex

>>> i’m really taking some liberties with this prompt LMFAOOOOO listen. y’all should just be thanking me this wasn’t a gojo kinktober. leave me be. also this is the first piece since my laptop kicked the bucket so PLEASE ignore the UGLY formatting i will fix it as soon as i get a new laptop.

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: ghostie gojo jdjdfkgk, bestie nanami, uhh spankings, choking, doggy, prone bone, cream pie, pet names (sweetheart) and mean names (dickhead, asshole) >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

everything was perfect. he was a great partner despite all the people that warned you that the special grade sorcerer was incapable of it. he was wonderful and sweet and considerate, even. he brought you lunch at work and took you on wonderfully lavish dates. he texted you constantly and showered you with gifts. you had only been together for a few months, though almost a year of history had led you here. you were happy, proving everyone who doubted your relationship wrong. until you realized that they were only trying to keep you from this reality.

“i love you, you know.” you told him, swinging your intertwined hands between you as he walked you home. this was a truth you’ve known since the relationship was too fresh to say such things, but a truth nonetheless. he hid it well in the moment, but that was the death sentence to a man like satoru gojo. he knew it was only a matter of time—yet his heart stopped in his chest, turning to steel before falling out of his ass. but he made sure his smile never faltered.

“oh yeah? i’ll add you to the list.” he chuckled, poking your side to make you laugh at the stupid taunt. it worked well enough, you didn’t seem to catch on to his avoidance. you didn’t chastise him for not saying it back, at least.

he walked you to your front door like normal. he gave you a goodbye and goodnight kiss like normal, he even smiled so genuinely and told you he’d call you in the morning—just like normal.

but when morning came, his call didn’t. no big deal, you thought, he’s a very busy man. once he gets some free time, he’ll call. but hours pass, and you don’t get so much as a text to apologize or let you know he was going to be late. you keep staring at his contact, debating whether or not you should bother or not for an hour or so. but a text couldn’t be too distracting, so you type something up.

‘good morning! or afternoon now, lol–i missed ur call, i hope ur having a good day!! call me when you can xx’

it doesn’t deliver. you furrow your brows and try it again, but it still doesn’t go through. you move to a different area of your house, thinking it was spotty reception in your bedroom. you try to send the text again—but it still doesn’t send. you try to call, your heart now pounding in your ears. something must have malfunctioned, right? after all your years as friends and these brief months exploring more—he wouldn’t just block you, right?

the phone call doesn’t ring, just an automated voice telling you that that the call couldn’t be completed as dialed. he blocked you. without so much as a hint to why. everything was perfect last night, he was all smiles and laughter, what could have changed? you want to call the only mutual connection you have—ieiri shoko—but decide it’s best not to involve her in the matter between two of her friends. it’s not tasteful and if there’s any chance of this being a misunderstanding, then taking it to your friends is the last thing you want to do. you could maybe ask nanami for advice at work in the morning—you wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but he’s how you met the strongest man alive. so he has to have some tips! yes, you’ll talk to nanami about it first thing tomorrow.

talk his ear off about it is more apt if you ask the grade one who merely dabbles in business work. he tried to be polite and listen to the tale—but your first mistake was in dealing with gojo in the first place. there was no advice in the world to fix that amount of stupid, especially if you were looking to get him back. but nanami catches the issue as soon as you recount the tale of your last conversation with the special grade.

“you told him that you love him?” he clarified with a raised brow. based on the judgment that flashes in his eyes, you know that was the wrong move. you huff in frustration.

“you introduced me to him—why would you set me up like this nanakun??” you pout, angrily folding your arms over one another. it’s a shitty attempt to take the heat off yourself, and nanami can appreciate it.

“hardly. he shoved his way in my office and you happened to be in there already.” he rolls his eyes. trust him, he did not want to see more of gojo—and dating his workplace’s secretary only meant that the annoying presence followed him even here. “i strongly advised against it. i knew we would end up here.”

you shoot him a glance, but his unamused face remains unchanging. you ignored everyone’s warnings, choosing the results he was giving you as reason enough for them to be wrong. did he enjoy leading you on and wasting his time? what was the game in all this?

“you shouldn’t have gone after him at all. but you definitely shouldn’t have told him you love him first.” nanami nearly seemed horrified. or what you imagined he would look like when horrified, eyes slightly widened and jaw dropped partially.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. maybe it’s because you knew how you felt for so long. maybe it was just because satoru put you at ease—none of the reasons matter now.

“it’s hard for him to do serious. love is as serious as it gets.” nanami sighs wistfully. you were a nice girl who didn’t deserve to be another name on the list of hearts broken by satoru gojo. for your own good, you should forget all about him and sorcerers as a whole. you would be much better off. but something about that look on your face paired with the fact that he knows satoru has never been happier in his miserable existence makes nanami sigh. “he’s just afraid of committing. the only person he ever loved just up and left him one day. so just…try to let him go. let him come back if he wants—if you want. maybe then he’ll be ready.”

your heart warms at your friend’s words. it was clear he couldn’t care less if things worked out or not, but he wanted you to feel better. you smile softly at his words, “thank you nanakun, i’ll try to…let him go.”

you think you did a pretty good job of that. as time went on, you think you even managed to convince yourself you didn’t want him back at all. if he could just flake out on you—look you in the face and lie—you didn’t want him. no matter how sexy and sweet and strong he was, trust is the most important thing. you keep your head down and work hard, catching up with nanami and learning any updates on your sorcerer that way.

apparently he was casually dating around, but nothing nearly as serious as you. he made sure of that. he hadn’t heard an ‘i love you’ in years, and while he may have thought it at different times throughout the past couple of dates you’ve been on, he hadn’t said it. even thinking it was bad enough. that meant you held an unimaginable and concerning amount of power over him. that meant you could crush his soul into a million pieces. that meant you could ruin him—and he can’t go through that again. the possibility of handing himself over to deep and passionate love was beautiful in theory but terrifying in practice, and the thought of giving in just to lose a second time were odds he just wasn’t willing to gamble with.

so he did it first. if he broke your heart you couldn’t break his.

so why does he feel so bad? so empty? every pretty girl he carted around after that was a weak competitor. they were nice enough, but so shallow and boring—they treated him like everyone else. you were special. you treated him like a person. someone with feelings and dreams and regrets. you asked him questions. real questions that made him think about real answers, nothing surface level like his favorite color or movie. you wanted to know him. and he let you learn just some of his darkest days and you told him you love him anyway. and he ran away from you. goddamn. he’s his own worst enemy.

he shows up with flowers one day, six weeks after you’ve broken up—or he dumped you. it was a normal day until then, but it certainly wouldn’t be after. it was laughably large bouquet, it almost looked like he was struggling to hold it all. your eyes must look like two full moons based off of his amused yet apologetic smile. you have to make yourself stop your smile before it spreads.

“hi…” he said nervously, shifting his weight foot to foot. he messed up—how could he make up for it? “i was wondering—“

“leave.” your shaky voice manages to croak out, quickly looking down at your paperwork. you had to avoid his stare, surely he would figure you all out if he looked deep enough. nanami said to make him work for it.

“flowers aren’t your thing, huh?” he seems undeterred—in fact, he seems emboldened by your reaction. “that’s fine. i’ll leave them here…” he styles them on your desk, sweeping your stapler and pencil sharpener and organizers to the side to accommodate the large vase. you watch him carelessly move things about, forcing you to accept his gift.

“you’re annoying.” you groan, though the flowers are gorgeous. they’re the same kinds you pointed to when you went on a nature walk one time—something he swore he was going to hate but ended up being one of his favorite outings with you. you seemed to have that effect on him.

“i know! one of my better qualities, i think.” he hums happily, chlorinated pools of crystal blue stare at you over the lenses of his casual sunglasses. he traded in the blindfold in hopes of winning you back—he wasn’t above playing dirty, even if he was the reason he had to play at all.

“as opposed to? ghosting?” you raise your brow. he sighs. he doesn’t know what he expected. he knew you wouldn’t fall right back into his arms, but that biting look in your eye makes him wonder if he’s messed things up beyond repair. either way, he won’t go down without a fight.

“yes—that’s one of the bad ones.” he scrunches his nose in distaste. he bends at the waist to lean his elbows on your desk, propping his face up in his hands. “look sweetheart—“

you scoff, leaning back in your office chair with something akin to amusement. you fold your arms over your chest and arch your brow, and even though you are absolutely pissed, you still manage to make his heart skip a beat. “don’t call me that, you fucked me up. or does that it make you happier?”

“you think i’m bringing you flowers for my health or something? i’m trying to apologize!” he whines, tugging a lone flower out of the bouquet and extending it toward you. “i’m an asshole, i know, and i don’t deserve to call you sweetheart—“

“i don’t accept.” you tilt your nose in the air. he swears he can see the hint of a smirk on your lips, and he sighs. you hold the power yet again, but this time he’s going to allow it.

“what can i do to make it up to you? it was a mistake..i see that now.” he frowns, looking down at the pale pink petals brushing against his fingers.

“mm, yeah? i’m sure fucking a bunch of other women helped clear that up.” you look at the flower in his hand too, examining the brightness, the absolute perfection of the petals. it almost withers with the man holding it.

“wh-what?” he blinked rapidly. he hadn’t had sex with anyone—god no, he can’t do fleeting connections, and in his heart of hearts he knew that none of them would fill the void you left behind. but your jealousy…now that he could use. “aw, baby, just say you missed me. i could clear up some things for you too.”

you snarl at the insinuation, even more annoyed that he didn’t deny romping around with other women after dropping you like it was nothing.

“i’m sure you wish you could, baby, but i’m not sloppy seconds.” you take the flower and snap the stem, tossing it on your desk without second thought. he pouts at the gesture, deciding that words were no use on you, he hums. he knows how to handle this.

“no, but you are more delicious the second time.” he sings, and you get up from your desk in frustration. he was so irritating. did he think that he could just disappear on you like that and you’d just forgive him like nothing? you huff up at him, gathering all your stuff and shoving it into your office bag. nanami watches from the stairs—and he’s proud that you’re making gojo work for it, at least.

you stomp out of the office building with all the theatrics at your disposal, and it only makes satoru smirk as he walks after you. god you want him so bad, he thinks. he catches the office door before you can slam it closed behind you, sliding his palm across the wooden panels with a suave coolness. it’s like he has the situation completely under control, strolling leisurely after the little lady stomping and yelling at him over her shoulder. he knows he fucked up, and if you wanted to blast him through the city on your route home, then he’d smile and walk dumbly after you.

your heart was racing. he was still following you—and you knew if he cornered you alone, there would be no denying him. your brain was fighting hard enough to deny him back in the office already. your blood is boiling. why do you want him back so bad? he left you—is sleeping with other women, even, and you're letting him tail you to your house. you shut the door on him, but he just teleports into your living room anyways. you give him a look—not sure what else to say. ordering him out would be futile—as you didn’t want him to and he clearly wouldn’t obey.

he’s smug, sitting on your couch with one long leg crossed over the other one, his arm stretched across the back of the couch like he’s just waiting to put it around you. he stares at you knowingly, but that smirk is driving you insane.

“stop looking at me like that—and get out of my house.” you try meekly, at least you could say you could. your eyes narrow at his unmoving form and he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

“you’re trying so hard to be mad at me, sweetheart.” he hums, arching a brow in amusement. he bats those long white eyelashes at you like he’s just ready for you to admit the truth and come crumble in his lap.

“i’m pissed, not trying that hard at all.” you scoff and shake your head, tossing your bag on the floor so that you may properly cross your arms at him. “you lied to my face, ghosted me, and now you’re acting like i’m being ridiculous for not accepting your flowers and taking you back?”

he shakes his head, a little nonchalant frown on his face. “you aren’t ridiculous for that—“ he stands and makes his way to you, not even bothering to hide the way he eyes you up and down. “you’re ridiculous for pretending you don’t want to. i could make this allll better if you’d just let me, sweetheart.”

his breath is as icy as his eyes when he leans down, brow arched like he’s asking a question. he is, you realize, he wants to know if you’ll let him.

“i never really slept with anyone, sweetheart. promise. was just trying to get you off my mind. didn’t work—made everything worse, actually. i got what i deserved.” he sighs softly, noting the hesitation on your face but the want in your eyes. he reaches a tentative hand to your face, giving you a soft smile when you let him touch you. “i’m sorry…you’re all i can think about. i just got nervous—i’m so stupid. beyond stupid—“

you smash your lips onto his to keep him from yapping. all he had to do was apologize. really apologize and mean it—but you would still punish him for walking away. you would make sure he could never do it again, lest he’ll never be able to get you out of his head even in death.

his hands grab at your dress, pulling you against his body in one fluid motion. the kiss changes moods entirely. the room feels like it’s buzzing now, his passion felt through the way he moves. he slides over your ass, kneading and fisting the fat with a groan into your mouth. you step into him, backing him to the couch. he grins against your lips like always—his kiss was warm and apologetic, lips hurriedly slotting over yours in an effort to make up for his transgressions.

he falls into a seat, pulling you into his lap with him. he sees your plan, and won’t go down without a fight. he promised to straighten you out after all. but letting you think you’re in charge was adorable, so he didn’t mind to indulge in it. you push his chest back with your own, grabbing his chin in your hand roughly. his back hits the couch and he can’t hold back his little giggle as his hands follow the paths of your body, though a satisfied hum follows at the feeling.

“you are sorry—a sorry piece of shit.” you huff, repeatedly kissing him over and over with all the anger you’ve been pinning up for the past few weeks without him. he grunts lowly, opening his mouth to invite you deeper. you take his willingness as a gift, plunging your tongue in his mouth and making sure yours stays in control. he tastes like honey and cinnamon, and it was a taste you missed more than you let yourself believe.

“pieces of shit must be your type though.” he sasses, standing up with you on his lap. he knows where your room is based on his extensive stays over, it’s nearly muscle memory for him to kick your door open with the point of his shoe, smiling up at you like no time had passed —like no bad blood had resulted from it. he throws you down like you weigh nothing, though he takes a seat on the side. upon hearing you gasp at his words, he scoffs and shakes his head. “don’t even think about it. i’ll fuck it out of you anyway.”

you can’t deny the way your body tingles and warms at his command. he’s usually soft and sweet, just rough enough to satisfy any cravings of yours—but he never struck obedience into your soul. your mouth closes, and he chuckles a little bit at your change. “that’s better. now if you wanna keep poppin’ off with attitude, i’ll get nasty instead of the sweet apology i planned for you.”

you roll your eyes, he was testing it. “don’t tempt me—“ you huff, a little annoyed at how easily your body gives up. you didn’t want to give him the ego boost of obedience, so you give him the attitude requested. “you messed up—i’ll talk to you however I want—“

he sighs and tugs at you, pulling your body at will. he splays you across his lap—long legs hanging over the edge of your bed. your dress is shoved up over your ass, and the tiny string of your thong is drawn back and snapped against the flesh. it makes you squeal a little in surprise, but you would be lying to say you didn’t want more.

“oh i’m a piece of shit, who are these for, nyeh?” he flicks your panties again, the sensation a small pleasurable sting.

“you dumped me—they’re for whoever i want.” you huff at him, even if his jealousy makes your heart warm. he slaps the fat of your ass lightly, humming at the way you jolt.

“yeah?” he smacks your other side, “i didn’t fuck anybody though. knew i needed you.” he spanks the same spot, the sting intensifies so wonderfully and makes your head spin. you can’t help the little moans that leave you with every slap.

“didn’t fuck anybody either, dickhead.” you pant, tossing him a glare over your shoulder. his free hand comes to grab your throat, sinewy warm and soft fingers wrap around your column with a tight grip—though not enough to restrict any airflow, of course. his cock stabs into your side at the sight. he grins brightly, almost sadistic in nature.

“you’re silly.” he hums, squeezing your throat until your eyes cross a little. he hums at you, the vision enough to make him painfully hard, but he always knows when to let up. he slaps your ass in conjunction with his little squeeze. he knows how to keep your eyes on him— repeatedly shaking his head, like he disapproves of you. “so pretty though. but mouthy.” he tsks, giving you a punishing spank to your tender skin. he hums pleasantly at the way your skin breaks a little, his red handprints making their way to the surface. “can’t even accept an apology. what do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

you can’t deny the wetness pooling in that skimpy thong. the stinging through your ass only makes your brain fog worsen, need was the only thing on your mind. he was so strong and sexy, and he was trying to make it up to you. you suppose you could…hear him out. that didn’t mean you were back together.

“fuck me—i’ll make my decision based on your performance.” you purr in his lap, wiggling your branded ass. he groans, you’re going to tease when you look like this? he woulda proposed if you asked him to if it meant you were all his again. commitment didn’t scare him so much anymore. you were as angry as ever and you still smiled when you saw him. you still let him follow you back home to plead his case. even if you didn’t have much a choice, you hardly even put up a fight. and he knew what that meant: you weren’t nearly as angry as you were trying to be.

“oh i’ll fuck you, sweetheart. let’s see if you can take it.” he hums so innocently, scooting you off his lap and onto all fours. he slides your thong to the side, laughing giddily at the sight of your soaking cunt. you definitely weren’t as mad as you were trying to be. “god look at this ocean—i almost feel bad for ya. trying to be such a meanie t’me when i’m the only one that can make it better.”

he wrestles with his pants, pushing them to his knees with haste. precious time was ticking, and stripping completely was a waste of it. he nearly sighs in relief when he frees himself, pumping his length fluidly. you whine at the time it’s taking him to fuck you, wiggling your cute rear and huffing.

“takin’ too long—“ you can’t finish your sentence before you cry out, his cock splitting you open just as you asked for. your walls felt like coming home, and every squeeze you give him was like a warm hug. he can’t believe he denied himself this for weeks just because you said something he’d been dying to hear from someone who meant it his entire life.

“better?” he asks, using your plush hips as his handlebars. this was why you would never be able to move on from him no matter the advice and warnings and every sign in the world telling you ‘no satoru gojo!’ he was just too good, he knew you all too well and your body craved and needed him like water. he fit in your cunt like he was built to, every pump of his cock left you gripping the sheets in an effort to hold yourself up, which you can only do for a few more seconds. “what, too hard? i thought you wanted to be fucked, little one?”

you’re stuck in a silent scream, unable to answer him. you feel like you can feel him in your lungs, his hips absolutely bullying yours. he admires your deep arch even though you’ve fallen forward, your ass rippling into his pubic hair so perfectly he had to reward you with some grunts and groans of his own. he lays over your back, cooing his praises in your ear.

“there she goes, now she’s taking good dick. can’t believe you almost wasted a thong like this— good thing i stay around, yeah?” he shoves your forward just a bit, off his cock and face first into your pillows. you whine at the loss, but he flattens your legs and sits on top of them—squeezing his cock between your thighs and ass, guiding his dick back in. you mewl at the new sensation. how could he possibly be deeper? “awww, that’s a good girl. letting me fuck ya like i hate ya when i’m just trying to prove that i love you too.”

you clench when he says it, moans intensifying as he uses you in this new position. he smirks, you’re adorable. laying there screaming for him with a gorgeously painted ass and a perfect body taking all the force behind his thrusts. “you still love me, sweetheart?”

you nod eagerly, your moans borderline animalistic. “yes—fuck, yes i do, i love you satoru!” you feel him so deeply in your stomach that you can’t keep holding back. it felt like a rubber band snapped as you squeeze around him and cover him with your essence. he keeps going, eyes trained on your recoil and the white ring you left at the base of his cock. your confirmation only drives him crazier, your limp body beneath him taking his increased pace like a champ—little overstimulated moans the only sound he can hear.

“gonna cum in this pretty pussy to show you how much i love you.” he groans, picking your body up in one strong arm to hold you down on his cock. you feel the rush of heat and shudder, the fact he was willing to deal with the consequences of cumming inside alone made you want more of him—until he couldn’t cum anymore. he holds you up, luckily enough— you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself—and places soft kisses to your neck. he hums, enjoying the taste of your skin slightly sweaty and warm from his love. he stays inside you, he can’t bring himself to move just yet, but he sighs in content.

“so…we back together?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Tequila Sunrise 1

Warnings: age gap, power dynamics, creep behaviour, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

ft. Cole Turner, older!reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You need this. For all the stress of your life, not to mention the added chaos of planning the getaway, you the week to be decent. No, not just decent. It has to be absolutely amazing. You haven’t spent so much time, money, and energy getting this all together for it to just be acceptable. 

You make yourself stop gritting your teeth, a bad habit your dentist and doctor both reproach you for. There’s also that pesky blood pressure issue and the stress headaches. That’s why you’re desperate for this. It’s not just a girls’ weekend, though none of you are really ‘girls’ anymore, it’s a therapeutic detachment from reality.  

For the next seven days, you are not a manager, you are not an ex-wife, or a middle child. You are on vacation. From all of it, from all of them. 

You’re the first there. That’s typical. Mandy rarely shows up within the first hour of a dinner, Jamila always runs in breathless saying she was somewhere important, Soo cancels more often than she shows, and Elaine is usual right on the dot. 

You made the booking, you have all the confirmations; you’ve checked, doubled-checked, and triple-checked and your early arrival is the very reason. You follow the automated voice of the GPS down the country road, your destination just ahead of you. Jamila found the airBnB online. It had rave reviews and you weren’t into a resort with all the young toned bodies or a beach house with sand blowing in from the beach. 

Maybe it’s age, maybe you’ve always been boring, but the farmhouse getaway sounds about your speed. You trust that you’ve brought enough wine and snacks to see you through a relaxing but rustic reprieve. You steer up to the wooden gate in the farmhouse style, the sort of vintage piece you see in films, and stop. 

You lean forward and tap your phone, leaving it on the dashmount as you flip through the app. The entry instructions... ‘honk’. What? 

You sit back and lay your palm gently on the horn. You don’t think you’ve ever actually used it. You put your weight into it and the blare makes you yipe and retract your arm. You sit there and idle just outside the gate. 

Should you get out and do it yourself? The latch looks easy enough. 

Before you can muster your courage to let yourself in, a voice calls and a man catches your sight with a waving hand. He runs down, his flannel shirt billowing open around a ribbed tank top. A tuft of sandy hair sticks out awkwardly at his crown and his jaw is dusted with heavy stubble. He’s about a decade younger, at least, and shows it. 

“Hey,” he calls out as you roll down your window. 

He unlatches the gate from the inside and lifts it as he pulls it open. He smiles as he steps back and waves you through. You slowly roll forward and stop just beside him. 

“Am I in the right place? I have a booking for a farmstead?” You ask. 

“That’s me,” he grins, his blue eyes sparkling as he bends to look you in the face, “you’re just going to wanna pull all the way down,” he points and looks after his hand, “you’ll be staying in the guest house. It down the other end of the property. Secluded so you don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Oh,” you try not to show your concern. That wasn’t in the listing. It’s supposed to be a girls’ weekend, not a supervised outing. 

“Your family following you up?” 

“Pardon?” You keep your foot on the brake. 

“Yeah, I saw the booking for five. You must have quite the clan.” 

“Uh, no, my friends,” you explain. 

“Oh, well I hope you ladies have a good time. I’ll just grab my truck and follow you down. Straight shot, just keep going down the road. You can’t miss it. I’ll be right behind you to show you around.” 

“Mm, okay,” you agree dully. “Thanks.” 

“Cole,” he offers his name and hand, and says your name in return, “that’s you, right?” 

“Yep,” you answer. Definitely the right place. 

“I’m just around in case there’s any issues. Maintenance or whatever. Swear, you’ll hardly even know I’m here. I’ll be around the main house,” he looks behind him at the large farmhouse, “guest house is way better. Fully updated. Oh and I just redid the bathrooms.” 

“Oh, sounds great, the pictures looked wonderful,” you give a fragile smile, “so, uh, straight ahead?” 

“You got it,” he slaps the top of the car and keeps his hand there. His chest hair peeks out from under the tank as his neck tendons clench, “take it slow. I can’t lose any more chickens.” 

“Oh my,” you grimace. 

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, “sorry, kinda grim. Well,” he pushes himself straight. His tank is almost transparent with sweat as it clings to his stomach, “I’m sure you’re dying to get settled.” 

“Yeah,” you agree and turn your sights ahead of you. 

He steps back and you ease onto the gas. As you clear him, he’s running off across the grass. He has a lot of energy. It’s the perfect contrast to your complete lack of. 

You keep your eyes straight ahead and follow the worn and weathered tire tracks. Your car jostles with the lumpy ground and you stay alert for any feathery creatures wandering around. Maybe it isn’t the ranch house paradise you thought but it’s still palatial. You won’t care much once you have some wine in you. 

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2023

May 22nd Prompt: Hunger

Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve wakes up slowly, rolls over to look at his alarm clock, then bursts out of bed in a rush of limbs and sheets and curses.

3:42 blinks back at him. Sometime during the night the power had gone out, and Steve knows it is well past 9, when he was supposed to be opening at Family Video. He pulls on his jeans and a clean shirt, stuffs his feet in his shoes, runs a brush through his hair, and grabs his vest on his way out the door, sparing half a glance at his kitchen, but not having time to eat.

If it comes down to it, he thinks, there’s always the candy.

He gets to Family Video in record time, breathing out a sigh of relief when he yanks on the door to find it still locked. That means he’s the first one there. Keith might notice when he goes back through times this week to figure out pay, but Steve’s hopeful he’s gotten away with it this time.

He clocks in, computer reading 10:01 (an entire hour late, whoops), and takes a breath as he looks around the store. Robin’s scheduled to come in at three, meaning he has five hours alone.

No one comes in for the first hour. Steve finishes logging returns and winding back the tapes.

Halfway through the second hour, the bell above the door jingles, and Steve raises his voice from where he’s putting away tapes. “Welcome to Family Video!”

“Either you’re hiding or you’ve officially started haunting this place,” a voice calls back, and Steve laughs as he walks out of the aisle.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Hiya, Stevie.” He grins. “Tell me if this is too forward? But I noticed the power went out last night and figured if I know you as well as I do, you slept in and missed breakfast.” He hands Steve a brown paper bag, creased nicely at the top.

“Lifesaver,” Steve gasps, opening the bag. Three muffins. He sniffs them, then groans. “You’re perfect, holy shit, thank you.” Banana nut, his favorite. His heart skips an odd beat, then again when he realizes Eddie’s blushing, pulling a piece of hair across his face.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie says quietly, chuckling slightly. “I guess I was right?”

“Yeah, I woke up, like, half an hour after my shift had started, immediately panicked, and got here as fast as I could. I don’t need another write-up.”

Eddie nods, a smirk crawling onto his face. “How about waiving the fees for your favorite customer?”

Steve makes a show of looking around. “Dustin’s here?”

Eddie just laughs. “I can’t even be mad at that one.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, eyes wide, adorably serious. Steve tries to school his face accordingly, but he can’t really feel his face. “I’m hungry.”

Steve thinks about it. “I am too,” he decides, then thinks some more. “Is there pizza left over?”

Eddie shrugs, looks at the blunt in his hand, then shrugs again, taking another drag. “Chips?”

“I have chips,” Steve agrees, grabbing for the blunt. “C’mon, share.”

Eddie hands it over. “Steve,” he says again, “I’m a genius.”

“Yup,” Steve agrees.

“We should watch a movie.”

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes. “With snacks?”

“Yeah. Yeah, with snacks, c’mon, help me, help me!” He pulls Steve up, laughing when Steve does.

“Eddie,” Steve says. It’s his turn to be serious. “What if we call Argyle? And Jon?”

“And they can bring pizza,” Eddie breathes. “Stevie, I think you’re the genius.”

“Yup,” Steve agrees again. “I’ll call. You get snacks. And movie.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs, resting his head against the wall. “There’s no way.”

“I swear! That’s exactly what she said! And then she tried to blame me, like it isn’t all automated.” Steve huffs a breath.

Eddie shakes his head. “You have way more patience than I do, man.”

“That’s not true. We have different types. I could never sit like you do, painting your figurines.”

Eddie snorts. “I zone out and wake up four hours later. I don’t think that counts as patience.” He sighs. “As fun as this has been, Steve, I’ve gotta go get ready for my shift. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. What time does your shift start?”

“Six.”

“That… Eds, that’s in twenty minutes.”

��No? I’m looking at a clock right here. It’s 4:40 right now. I’ve got an hour twenty.”

“Eds,” Steve says, sounding pained. “Daylight savings.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie breathes. “Shit, shit, shit, you’re right, shit, fuck, okay, I’ve gotta go, love you, bye!”

He hangs up before Steve can say anything else, stuffing his feet in his shoes and grabbing his keys before racing out.

He’s halfway to work before he realizes he’s hungry. He lays his head on his steering wheel at a red light, breathes. “Just five hours,” he tells himself. “I can make it five hours.”

Half an hour in, he’s not so sure. His hands aren’t as steady as they should be, but he hides it from his coworkers, takes another few deep breaths, and tries to trick himself by drinking more water.

Ten minutes later, a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up. Eddie’s heart thuds in his chest as he goes out to meet Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve grins. “I think I got caught by all the lights possible.” He grabs something from the passenger seat. A brown paper bag.

“You didn’t,” Eddie breathes.

“I did,” Steve admits. “I hope turkey’s okay.”

“Turkey’s fantastic,” Eddie promises. “Freakin’ food for the gods, when I’m this hungry.” He opens the bag. A sandwich, a small bag of chips, an apple. He laughs. “Jesus wept, Steve, I brought you three little muffins!”

“Yeah, and I meant it when I called you a lifesaver.” He tilts his head. “I’m curious about something, though. If you meant it.”

Eddie pauses with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Meant what?”

“Gotta go, love you, bye.”

“Oh.” Nausea makes its presence known. He brings the sandwich down. “Steve, I-”

Steve’s fingers land on his forearm. “The truth, Eds. Please.” He’s whispering, eyes big and hopeful, and Eddie feels some of that same hope filling him.

“Yeah,” he whispers back.

Steve grins again, steps back. “I’m picking you up tomorrow. Seven o’clock.”

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, watches as Steve drives away.

“Hi,” Eddie says breathlessly, opening the door before Steve could knock.

“Hi.” Steve chuckles. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Where are you taking me?”

“Where do you wanna go?”

Eddie bites his lip, slides into the passenger seat. “Dinner? I’m starving.”

Steve grins at him as he puts the car in gear. “Me too.”

[spctrsgf]

laser tag

summary: first date w marc BRO I NEED HIM (i'm just a girl)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language?? i don't think this one needs any??? crazy unheard of ik i just miss my man

a/n: me spawning every three months to drop a piece ain't cool I KNOW BUT LIFE HAS BEEN SO BUSY i miss u guys i am trying so hard to be more active :((((

Marc.

Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector.

His name is Marc Spector, and he is downright nervous.

His palms are sweating, this is getting embarrassing. It's just a date. All he had to do is get dressed nice, the verdict being in something that he'd found in the back of his closet. It's been ages since the last time he'd needed to suit up, in not his Moon Knight getup.

He walks back to his mirror, turning to the back to make sure all of his clothing is straightened properly for what feels like the millionth time. He runs his hand down the back of his suit, bringing himself to face front and tightens his bowtie.

This is stupid. He pulls off the tie, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt and flattening it nicely against his collarbone. A tilt of his head to the clock tells him the time: 5:45. He shakes his hands out lightly, trying to muster up some sort of confidence before he grabs his keys and makes his way out the door.

He navigates his way to the place you two had picked out, nervousness bending to excitement as he sees the flashy sign. Its effervescent light is so enticing he finds himself pumping on the gas in excitement. After parking and stepping out of his car, he sees you at the door. 

Well, that's sure to stop him in his tracks.

You're dressed up in his favorite color. You’d asked him, the night before. He snorts. What a sneaky move. Your outfit fits you perfectly, and your smile when you notice him is to die for. He feels his hands getting clammy again and his cheeks dusting as he wills his wobbly knees to move towards you.

“Hi,” he drops out, nearly breathless as he comes within talking distance. You're even more stunning up close. “You look…” You smile brightly at him, your own cheeks pink as you giggle at him. “Hey, Marc. You look,” you pat his chest, pulling at the edge of his shirt. “As well.”

He shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“My bad, sir.” You tease.

“Don't hit me with that,” he pushes open the door to the place, letting you walk in ahead of him. “I’m paying. Could get you a shitty gun.”

You toss your head back at him with a tilt. “Please. You know I’d still be better than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

You both giggle as you make your way up to the front desk, Marc buying all of the tickets and you leaving punchy lines the whole way through. Soon enough, the two of you have been suited up and are ready to play. 

You two had decided that you would be on the same team, fighting against another sweet couple who were just as determined to win. “Marc, look at his shirt,” You point towards one of the men's shirts. “It's white. What a bold move.” Marc snorts, but you're right; the shirt glows like headlights. You can't miss it. “How good do we think he is?” He whispers back.

“Either really fast or a newbie who doesn't quite know they use UV lights yet.”

He snorts. “Laser tag newbie. Who hasn't played laser tag?”

“Not everyone.” You bump his shoulder. 

“Watch the video, baby.”

“Oh, pet names,” you giggle as you face the screen with a shit eating grin. “Didn't know we were there yet.”

“We don't have to be.” Panic flashes across his face.

“No, no. I think it's sweet.”

With that, you two go silent, both blushing from the high of your banter. You make your way out into the room soon after, settling into a competitive spirit. You quickly map out your plan to tackle the other couple based on what you had seen and previous experiences with laser tag, kicking into rapidfire excitement with Marc on your heels.

The game will start in… the automated voice booms on the loudspeaker, nearly scaring you. Marc giggles at your surprise, but a sharp slap to the side quickly quiets him. 

3…

He turns his focus to you, admiring the way your brows are furrowed in concentration and your fingers flex impatiently in time with the dart of your eyes. You're locked in, solely focused on the game.

2…

Your lips curl into a slight smile. You know he's looking at you; he hasn't quite figured out that subtlety, you've gathered. It's exhilarating, confidence boosting, to have someone so blatantly admiring you. 

1…

He realizes he's staring. That’s so creepy, he scolds himself, turning forward and remaps the room in front of him. He scouts out the best hiding spots, how to get to where he needed to go, kicking into his dump of internal lunar habits.

Fight!

He's off in a flash, bounding forward in a mess of anticipation and adrenaline. He's determined to impress you, ready to rub it in– only a little– when he places first and you second. 

Oh, is he in for a shocker.

You’ll give it to him. His moves are so smooth and calculated. He moves with the agility of a cat, dipping left and right. His eyes scan for any movement, so meticulous you’d think that maybe there was a cat up in his brain, telling him what moves to make next. But he lacks one thing. In all his glory, in all his advantages, you have one thing to top him. 

Patience. 

You pause, you don't move to take the higher ground, you crouch, and you wait. You let one of the men come forth, let him think you didn't see the way he crept behind the block to your left. You let him think he won. 

He launches forward, as you had expected, triumphant in the thought that he had captured you, unbeknownst to you. You turn, shutting one eye and slamming your finger down on the trigger button.

The shot seems to go in slow motion to you and to the man. It felt like a shot out of a movie, so picturesque that you couldn't breathe through the cliche. It blips into the plastic on his chest with a blue flicker, surprising him. You can hear his confidence shatter with the ring of the buzzer.

The man turns, heading back to his base to revive himself, only turning back once to nod with a sense of respect. You tilt your head back at him, smiling. With that, you dart off towards where you see Marc, gaping at you from behind a barricade.

Your free hand cups his cheek as soon as you get close enough to touch him, bringing your face up and just a hare's breath away from his own. “How'd I do?” You murmur. He blinks helplessly at you, barely managing to conceal his groan when you pull away from him.

“C’mon, lover boy,” you turn back, ushering him forward. “We got a laser tag game to win.” He follows you without a question nor a word, a dumbstruck smile painting his face.

He definitely chose the right person.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 5

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Back at my desk for chapter 5 today, but no Charlie; he has abandoned me :(Tea this evening is Lady Grey with some milk and sugar.

Can you all believe that this is the last chapter of book 1????!?!? One out of 4 done! Anyways- let's get into this short chapter:

OMG. I would have been so pissed if I was transmigrated somewhere and had to start as an infant with my entire adult brain. RIP those circumstances for Airplane (p 264)

Honestly though, I am so here for the argument between Shang Qinghua/Airplane & Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan. Fight it out! The fan/not fan and the author who has no idea what's happening LOL

okay but I stand with Shang Qinghua/Airplane -> Shen Yuan really does know a lot of the lore for someone who supposedly hates this book (p265)

Oh god airplane doesn't even know that shen qingqiu here was poisoned (p267)

(okay Re: not knowing about the poisoning- correction he does, I dont know why he was confused about the mushroom side quest though. If anyone has clarity about this comment pls!)

okay but what's this demon- it's kind of scary clever (p269)

the SASS of this system going through an update and only giving automated answers LOL (p270)

it's making me laugh that the actual author and creator of this world cannot recall a single side character's name XD (p272)

+1 to the party! We have Gongyi Xiao (p 275).

what's touching him?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?! (p278) that's terrifying!!!!!

Shen Qingqiu still over here missing his boy. Re: Gongyi Xiao not being as good as Luo BInghe at picking up Shen Qingqiu's subtle non verbal cues while fighting and shen qingqiu being upset by it (p280)

I swear if that slither creature snatches those mushrooms before shen qingqiu has a chance to snag them I will be so pissed on his behalf (p282)

All three of them: WTF is that?!?!?! Airplane side eyeing shen yuan: did I write that tho??? (p.284)

RE: snatching the mushrooms- I don't think it can touch the mushrooms(?)

OMG. Shen qingqiu just made mortal enemies with this fish snake man (p 287)

At this point I don't know if he is trying to gaslight himself. But no matter what, Shen Qingqiu is really convincing people he's a little unwell about losing Luo Binghe. He mentally tells himself he's fine but man is his behaviour wild. (p 289)

OOp. Airplane calling Shen Yuan out about his feelings regarding Luo Binghe 👀 (p 290) Which Shen Qingqiu completely fails to respond to.

That's it for book 1!!!!!

I am NOT ready for the next turn of events. That foreshadowing at the end with this mushroom plot! These mushrooms better survive or poor Shen Qingqiu is fucked.

I cannot wait to start book 2 tomorrow!!!

[bulkyphrase]

Cap-IM Rec Week - Smut Saturday

Day 6 of @cap-ironman's rec week event! Today's recommendations feature a lot of lovely porn. And maybe some plot sometimes, as a treat.

And if you like subby and/or bottom Steve, check out my previous Stony smut rec list too.

Automated Fantasy by IOnlyWriteWhenCarmelyzed (MCU, Explicit, 1,711 words)

Summary: Steve gets bent over by one of Tony's Iron Man suits

Cherry Ride by copperbadge (@copperbadge) (MCU, Explicit, 12,318 words)

Summary: A SHIELD agent named Roger Stevens told Tony that his nickname was "Cap". Tony didn't connect the dots until it was much, much too late.

More below the cut!

Choices by fundamentalBlue (Marvel, Explicit, 1,749 words)

Summary: “We both know why you come here. So don’t go acting surprised or disgusted. You’re the one who wants this. You.”

Choke You With My Charms by synteis (Ults, Explicit, 8,919 words)

Summary: Steve can't seem to help himself from jerking off at Tony's big do. Tony can't seem to get it up after the last round of chemo. But when Tony offers to take Steve in hand and give Steve's cock some old-fashioned punishment, neither of them are quite expecting what happens next.

I won’t leave you falling by @blossomsinthemist (616, Explicit, 14,653 words)

Summary: Tony doms for Steve, which involves some specially enhanced red rope, cock rings, two vibrators, and a lot of orgasm control. It works out. Bottom Steve, trembling and desperate to come, loving dom Tony, plenty of aftercare.

Larger Than Life by @festiveferret (MCU, Explicit, 3,697 words)

Summary: Steve wants that in him. Right now.

Small Weird Love by @haemodye (Marvel, Explicit, 13,140 words)

Summary: When a magical mishap results in Tony swapping his legs for tentacles, he's absolutely mortified. How is he supposed to face Steve? Steve can't possibly want him like this. Right? Right...

So Much to Confide to You by @sineala (616, Explicit, 16,988 words)

Summary: After an attack by the Masters of Evil, Avengers Mansion is in ruins. Tony has come back from California to help the East Coast team pick up the pieces -- literally. And when the team finds items of a certain intimate nature in the wreckage of the mansion's bedrooms, Tony is of course the one who steps forward to claim them. This leads to two problems: Problem Number One: They're not his sex toys. His toys are in California. Therefore, one of Tony's longtime friends is also extremely kinky and he has no idea who. Problem Number Two: One of Tony's longtime friends happens to own an Iron Man butt plug. Oh, God.

The Crying Game by @fohatic (MCU, Explicit, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ... Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

The Prize by @sabrecmc (MCU, Explicit, 318,625 words)

Summary: Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

[koorminii]

WHAT LIES IN THE DARK — bang chan (m)

What was supposed to be a chill night alone turns into a fight for your life; Chan has been watching you, waiting for the best moment to strike, and he’s finally found the right time — but why are you so utterly enticing?

pairing: bang chan x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers (?)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: CHAN IS A SERIAL KILLER, NO EXPLICIT MURDER SCENES, predator and prey dynamics, mentions of murder/violence, breeding, mating press, degrading, mentions of stalking, morally grey character, dumbification, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, oh and they have sex outside… on the ground. lmk if i’m missing anything !!!

authors note: I helped my friend sisi write this for her tumblr account, and she was nice enough to let me post my own partially edited version for chan!! so if you like jujutsu kaisen and wanna read this twice then go follow her at @kugokizs !! also holy shit i haven’t posted in almost two months 😭 the amount that i missed you all and missed writing is insane and the never-ending support even throughout my absence and inactivity means so much, i genuinely could never imagine anyone, let alone all of you, could like my writing as much as it seems you do, so thank you! i hope everyone is doing well 🫶

Bang Chan is a very sinister man.

He holds grudges, is very keen on practicing “eye for an eye”, and he holds dear his power over weak, vulnerable, young women. He prowls for the pleasure of it, for the thrill — to hear them beg for mercy, for one more chance. They beg on their knees as if he’s a God, the bringer of all evil, the grim reaper, the devil himself. And, Chan thinks, maybe he is. After all, who else could invoke such fear in people. Who else could cause someone to shiver just at the mention of his name? To run for the hills at any sign of danger. Who else could do what he does? No one, and that’s what makes him enjoy it even more.

Bang Chan is a very sinister man, and right now he has his eyes on you. It’s been months, bumping into you at the grocery store, handing you things that you’ve dropped accidentally, holding the door open for you, dropping food on your doorstep — he’s seen it all. Late nights with friends, early morning at university, skipping lunch to study in the library… Chan has been there. Watching, waiting, prowling. Ever since the first time he saw you he’s wanted you, to add you to his ever growing collection, to keep you, to make you his. You’re his. And the only one between you both who didn’t know that yet, was you.

He has a foot buried in your grass, a cap hanging low on his head and a knife tucked inside his jacket. He makes sure to move with precision, watching out for the automated sprinklers and for any animals that might come looking. After all this time he knows the routine well. He knows when you’re staying home all night, what time you usually shower, when you eat, everything. He knows you’re a naturally anxious person, jumping at any sudden movements or noises, and he also knows you’re careless. Blasting music on flimsy headphones, falling asleep to the sound in your ear, oblivious to the world around you. Oblivious to the devil creeping on your doorstep.

He crouches down low, your blinds open just enough that he can see you plopped down on your couch with a bowl of ice cream in hand and a silly movie playing on the TV. Your legs are curled up, oversized pajama pants falling over the soles of your feet, and your attention solely on what’s playing in front of you. Chan’s been inside your house before. On the rare days where he wasn’t following you around he made his way through the place, memorizing the layout, seeing which rooms were the most lived-in, taking his time to appreciate your bedroom and all it had to offer.

Drawers upon drawers of lingerie greeted him when he peaked inside — he didn’t think you had it in you. His fingerprints would’ve been all over the place if not for gloves, his face on every camera if he hadn’t known all the blindspots, and thank God you didn’t have cameras inside, because then it’d only make it harder for him, and if you wanted something a little less painful when your time was up, it was best you didn’t piss him off.

Though Chan thinks he might play with you a bit. You’re interesting, just anxious enough to get by yet careless and reckless enough to get caught in a stupid situation. You’re pretty — innocent in the sexiest way possible. You look like you’d go dumb for a taste of his cock and that’s exactly what he likes most about you, but he knows you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and he appreciates that, too.

The moon shines a ghastly glow over his features right as the end credits of the movie start to run, and that’s when he decides it’s time to play. He picks up a smooth, round, pebble — no bigger than a quarter, and throws it so that it hits the window pane. He crouches down just the smallest bit lower, eyes peeking over the blinds, and he trusts the darkness to obscure him. He knows that you won’t ever get close enough to actually look through them, and he’s right. Always so easily frightened, like a little lamb. You freeze where you’re sitting, head whipping around to look at where the sound came from, and you pause for only a few moments, watching and waiting to see if it comes again. At least a minute passes before you turn back to the TV, curling in on yourself and tucking your lip between your teeth.

Chan can barely stifle the chuckle that threatens to leave his lips, it feels like childish glee watching you get so scared from a measly little rock against your window, but he does it again, throwing it harder now, and the sound echoes so loudly that he can hear it bounce back from inside your living room. This time you stand up, looking back towards the window and stepping forward, head tilting downwards as you try to see through the blinds. You squint at the glare from your lights and otherwise stay silent. Chan is sure your heart is beating erratically, your hands starting to shake, and he thanks God that you have so many windows. You don’t sit back down, instead looking around the room and muting the TV. You stay like that for a long time, you’ve always been so overly paranoid, and it fills Chan with immense satisfaction to know that he’s the one doing this to you.

He walks away from the window, allowing you to rotate methodically on uneasy feet and a rapidly beating heart, creeping around to the back door and picking the locks. He’s already deactivated the back camera and dropped a cat by your front porch so it didn’t seem too suspicious that you weren’t getting alerts. He knows that’s it’s rare anything ever triggers the back camera, and you feel too secure with the gate locking it from the outside. He’s easily bypassed those barriers, and now he simply opens the door. He knows you have sensors to tell you when the door has been open and shut, and he didn’t bother shutting those off. He wants to see how scared you can really get.

He shuts the door and slips into the closet, covering his lone figure with various jackets and scarves that hang from the hooks. There’s boxes and bottles of cleaning supplies piled at the bottom, and they block his legs from view. He’s still, silent, and patient. He hears your footsteps rushing towards the door, your heavy breathing, your frantic whispers of “Oh God,” and his eyes all but roll back in undeniable pleasure. He’s going to ruin you.

Your footsteps get nearer before they stop, you’re most likely looking through the window of the now closed back door, hands trembling and knees weak in fear. You’re probably on the verge of tears, barely holding in a whimper. He doesn’t hear you step away, but he can see your shadow from under the door. Hmm. You’re trying to be cautious now, are you? Chan already knows this routine. You’ll run to grab your phone, call someone, try to get in your car and drive away. Maybe grab a large kitchen knife just in case, but what are the chances of you actually using it? Chan has practice, he’s skilled, he’s used to this. You, a lone studious girl who’s paranoid but way too careless for her own good, has never stabbed anyone in her life. Has never even imagined it, so what’s the chances of you dropping the knife before it can even plunge into him? Maybe trying to get away with a scratch in the arm or a stab to the leg, but Chan has enough scars for that to not even matter. He’ll keep coming and there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.

But he’s gonna let you try, let you think there’s a chance for you to run for the hills, that maybe you’ll get to some help in time. He’ll let that relieved smile flit itself upon your face before he comes back to rip that hope from your body, just to do it all over again until the fight leaves you completely. Maybe he’ll let you reach someone in time, someone innocent, and then kill them right in front of you. Make sure you realize that this is your fault, you did this, you put this innocent person in danger. You murderer. You killed them. You.

Chan realizes he has a lot to think about.

Your chest pounds with the rapid beating of your heart. Your legs barely hold your weight and threaten to crumble with every movement, shaking every time you stop and wobbling uncontrollably when you run. You grab a knife from the kitchen counter and run back to the living room and grab your phone. It all started with the random sounds coming from the window. They came out of nowhere, pounding harder and harder until they stopped completely. You had thought you saw someone moving behind the blinds but chalked it up to paranoia. It’s been raining a lot more recently, so maybe it was just the rain pouring down onto the windows.

You tried to go back to your movie after that, you had clutched your phone tightly despite reassuring yourself multiple times that it was nothing. There was nothing there. You were almost able to relax. Almost, before your security system alerted you of the back door opening. At that moment it felt like your heart had lurched out of your chest, as if the shock and fear had paralyzed and crippled you completely. The silence was suddenly too thick — too loud, and it was all you could do to attempt to heave yourself up and off the couch to investigate. You already knew you should never venture deeper, never look for the source of the sound, but you needed to see.

When you got to the back door it was already shut. You’d ventured on tippy toes to look through the small window and there was nothing there. Yet you couldn’t stop the way your breath left you in heavy gasps, the acrid smell of fear and anxiousness seeping from you in waves. You didn’t forget the closet right in front of the door, but you knew you’d never be able to open the door without shaky limbs. If there was someone in there, you’d let them leave of their own accord. You , however, were leaving immediately. You slowly stepped away, looking up to the ceiling and clutching your lip tightly between your teeth. Sweat formed at the top of your mouth and you felt like you were going to throw up. Your throat ached, your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you could collapse at any second.

You crossed the living room with amble speed, grabbing a jacket from the hook by your front door and running outside. Rain dropped down in an angered flurry, beating the pavement with troubled fists, and your shoes were soaked with water before you could fully cross your front lawn. You scrambled to get the car door open, throwing yourself inside ungracefully. The first thing you did was look in the backseat before locking the doors and wasted no time taking off out your driveway and into the streets. You wanted to play music, blast it even, it was what calmed you always and without it you were leaving yourself vulnerable to the fear you’d been trying to ignore. You’d be able to get away — far, far, away — and sometime in the future you’d forget this night ever happened. You’d contact the authorities, move somewhere tropical maybe, and pray they never came looking.

The fear was slowly starting to easen, there were no cars following you, no weird men in the road, nothing but the stars and the moon and the lone sound of rain. You were slowly starting to relax, allowing yourself to take a few deep breaths, before a hazard sign started blaring on your dashboard.

Flat tire.

Flat tire !??

You kept driving, desperate for a few more miles between you and home, but your car didn’t appreciate that, and you came to a stop. A fear-mongering, bone-chilling, stop.

You couldn’t afford to waste time. You had to keep moving. You jumped out the car, a tight grip on your knife in one hand and your phone in the other. Your feet splashed in large puddles, the streets lined with thick trees that had never looked so imposing until now. A quick look around told you that you were alone, but you couldn’t be sure. You kept moving, rushing but not moving too fast where the sounds of your splashing would drown any other noises out. Your hand curled tightly on the knife as if it was a lifeline, and your phone was inside your pocket — kept safe from the rain. Streetlights shined down from above, blinding white lights that illuminated the entire area before you, and you were grateful for it but loathed it all at the same time. Bright lights mean you could see everything around you, but it also meant anything around could see you too.

Your breath was shaky, every exhale felt like it would be your last, but you didn’t stop moving. The brushing of trees or a snap of a branch would make you jump and squeal in fear just to see it was a product of the wind or your own feet pressing against wood. Ahead you could see the shadows of houses, loud and imposing in structure, and your legs carried you faster with a new found determination. Your vision was blurry with tears of relief and raindrops that sat on your eyelashes, just to be blocked by something — something warm and soft, something sturdy, something breathing.

You couldn’t help the shrill scream that left your lips, but it was drowned out by the storm anyway. You stomped hard on his boot and sliced, not sure if you hurt him but giving yourself a chance to run away. Your legs pumped with adrenaline, your eyes wide in fright. Your grip on the knife only got even tighter, your nails embedding themselves lightly in your palm, but you had to keep going. Any noises became muffled as you ran, the sounds of trees rustling in the wind, rain slapping against the pavement, your feet slamming against the ground. His own feet moving leisurely behind you. It all became nothing but background noise to the pounding of your heart.

You screamed at the top of your lungs but it was to no use. Every clap of thunder, every downpour against shut windows, every burst of lightning fought for the right to be heard and you were losing. Your legs never stopped moving, you never stopped screaming, but you were reaching a dead end. There was nowhere to go. If you stopped to knock on someone’s door there was no guarantee they’d come open it, and it would allow him to catch up to you way too quickly. You couldn’t hide in any abandoned homes or under any structures because he’d surely see you, and that’d only trap you. Briefly, you contemplated running into the forest, but it was so dark. You didn’t know where you were going, you’d probably get lost and lead yourself right into his arms.

“There you are, little lamb.”

The whimper that leaves your lips has Chan grinning in delight. He surges forward, trapping you between strong arms and a broad chest, pressing against you tightly and dragging you backwards. You claw at his arms, kick your feet, and use the knife to slash at any part of his body that you could. You didn’t make it easy, and you could hear him growl in frustration. He tipped the knife out of your hands and then gripped your arm with a frightening intensity, you bit your lip to stop the cry of pain from leaving your mouth.

“Stop fighting.”

Ugh, get off me!” You cried, and you bit at the skin of his arm, hard, and he pushed you off, allowing you to fall flat on your back. You groaned, rolling over on your side before a dark shadow loomed over you. You winced, your eyes shutting in fear before strong fingers gripped your chin.

“Not so fiesty anymore? We were having lots of fun,” He cooed, a devilish grin forming on his — and you hate to say it — near perfect features. The only blemish on his face was the long scar over his eye, and even that made him look attractive. You lost your breath for a short moment, staring into unforgiving eyes and at pearly white teeth, before you came back to your senses and jerked your knee upwards into a firm abdomen. When the man didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt you did it again, but this time you used your arms to push him backwards as well. He stumbled just a little, but it was enough for you to jump to your feet and start running back in the direction you came.

“You’ll stop if you know what’s good for you,” The man grumbled, but you didn’t stop moving. You wouldn’t. You didn’t bother screaming for help this time and ran straight through unforgiving trees and underbrush. You weren’t worried about getting lost anymore and could only focus on losing him and getting away.

Except he must’ve known, because gone was the leisurely pace he’d originally held. He ran through the trees with crippling speed, and it was all you could do not to yelp in fear and keep moving. But it didn’t seem like any speed you took was fast enough, for he kept getting closer and closer. It was just your luck that you’d trip over the roots of a large tree, falling flat on your face. You attempted to scramble backwards before he could reach you, but your limbs were growing tired, your brain was ready to shut off, and not even the adrenaline could keep the paralyzing fear from your veins. you whimpered as a large hand grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the mud and leaves.

“Come on, little lamb, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

All you could do is bite your lip to stop the whimpers and cries from flooding out. You squeezed your eyes shut, stiffening when soft lips brushed against your skin. “We can have fun, can’t we?” He murmured, and your breath left you in a shudder. Calloused hands rubbed against the skin exposed by the lift of your shirt, and small puffs of breath knocked against the shell of your ear. “Do you wanna have fun?”

Your heart kicks up a notch when he slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold.

“Look at me,” He growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with desire. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a foreign feeling surging through you, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s a little awkward with your apprehension, your fear, your desire to just give up — all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. He licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into submission.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," He hums, pressing your thighs apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again.

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your pants, slipping under the hem and unbuttoning the fabric. When he pulls your pants down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, the cold feeling of his fingers. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Chan lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold.

"Pretty little lambs deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Chan starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Aren’t you scared?” Chan murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Chan’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the ground at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

You allow him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off your ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to press against your cheek you yelp. It’s okay. You’re okay. Right?

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect him— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to pleasure you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly lets his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it. God, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Chan’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at you through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dips his head down, and your hands automatically perch themselves on his shoulders. He grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moaned, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slightly. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groaned, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He moved his mouth from yours to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

One hand supports his weight on the ground by your head while the other is preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stares down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groans. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever a boy you liked would come bother you. It intensifies when Chan wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging grass from under you.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you. Having him stick himself inside you.

“Relax,” Chan murmurs, pressing his mouth to your cheek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Dark eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Chan watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his forehead, and he sinks back into your inviting walls with another roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Chan’s chest expands with a satisfied breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known, before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the ground below you.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Chan moans—every twitch and squeeze of your heat leaving him breathless. “Come on, little lamb,” He groans, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and his groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all him. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And you tense up, your body convulsing and arching upwards as his thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the grass and debris and Chan’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless. You feel when the man gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwear back on. You hear it when he sighs, something deep and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. Yet, somehow, it all comes back to you in a flash. You sit up, head throbbing, and stare up at him. Wide-eyed and fearful.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

He grins, “I think we can work something out.”

[sunnysideprincess]

Last few days have been wild lol, had a cystectomy, finally met my cousin's husband and now people are asking me to get married and have a baby before "it's too late", so I wrote this instead of punching them

no actual cheating happens here

Steve Rogers is a respectable married man. But he's called in by Virginia Potts, told Tiberus Stone's husband needs a bodyguard and it's fine, he's fine. He can take the heat of a family known to sell weapons to death and destruction. Except the husband is Tony fucking Stark, a man who is so obviously trapped. A trophy for Tiberus like his mother was to his father. And while Stone gets to sleep around, Tony's kept on a chokehold by his own father, uncle and husband. He's a writhing chrysalis trying to evolve, trying to break free. And Steve is helplessly in love with those furious doe eyes looking at him with all the rage as he stops him from trying to sneak away. Again and again. But he is also in love with his husband for seven years. So there's nothing to be found here.

"It's for your own safety," he tries to tell Tony. But the man won't listen. He throws a punch, two. Accuses him for being his husband's spy. Steve assures him he's not. He tells him Miss Potts picked him. And that pulls Tony up short. Leeches the anger out and leaves sharp confusion instead.

"Pepper sent you?" And Steve is a respectable married man. But if those eyes don't stop looking at him with all the curious wonder of a predator, he doesn't know what would happen. All he knows is that he'll end up long buried.

There's a change. Where Tony's rage and struggle pulled Steve in like a depraved blackhole, his gentleness and wit tethers something inside Steve. Keeps him coming back. Tony is a genius. But he's not a psychopath like Stone, not a greedy bastard like Stane, not a businessman like his father. He has hopes and dreams that could save the world. He sees a future that's bright and green. And Steve is a respectable married man headed for ruin.

Steve tells Bucky he would be late. He tells him he's got priorities and his husband says nothing, just nods and kisses his cheek.

He should have known.

He finds Bucky beside James Rhodes, doned up in his Soldier regalia.

"I'm assigning Barnes to Tony's guard."

"We have Rogers."

"Well we've also got Ten Rings coming after him."

There's that. Even Howard Stark doesn't want his son dead. And though there's an ugly scowl on Stane's face he doesn't like, Steve is more worried about deciphering Bucky's blank stare and the gentle flex of his metal limb.

Things go differently this time around. Tony meets Bucky not with fury, but a gentle curiousity. Like he's trying to peek through the icy winds of a storm. He picks and prods at him like a cat sniffing a new scratch post. Asks about the arm. About the metal. About the joints. And the connectors. But never about how he lost the weighted piece of flesh in the first place.

Steve is torn between pulling them apart and asking Bucky to say something.

But Bucky has his back to him. And Tony's eyes are sharp as ever.

"You're lucky my Rhodeybear warned me about you. Or you would gotten the same treatment as him."

Steve can put it on paper. He won't even have to look to know Bucky's interest at that. He always loves it when someone shoves at Steve's immovable strength.

"I punched him. Twice," Tony explains, and like an automated machine Steve defends himself.

"It didn't hurt."

Bucky snorts, shakes his head and throws him a look which tucks the message home. We'll talk later.

"You came back all bruised like a peach."

"Oh," Tony breathes and then blushes. "Well, that's an image."

"I want him," he mourns to Bucky on the sparring mat. Once Bucky has beaten him senseless, gotten the rage of betrayal out of his system. Once Steve learns that he is a respectable married man. But he can learn to be not. "I want him for both of us."

It takes time. Bucky is wary. Skittish around this other guy.

There is Stane and his obvious displeasure. There is Ten Rings and their looming threat. There is Tony himself, pulling away, haunted by a sad, guilty shadow.

"I'm married. And so are you." There is that and more under. There is Stone and his pride. Bruises marking Tony's skin. There is rage boiling up inside Steve, checked by a cold press of Bucky's hand over his neck.

There is too much. And too little.

But when Bucky falls, Steve isn't there. He is trapped behind the rubble after someone blew up the building. He is trapped and worried about the old lady with him, calling for her son and her daughter, bleeding from her torso.

He isn't there. Yet when he gets home, Bucky is there with his fury and rage, his eyes dark and lips warm as he lunges at Steve.

"He's a fucking idiot," he snarls and Steve grins. "He's gonna get himself killed!"

After, Bucky tells him the story.

"He just fucking jumped in after the kid. Wearing a goddamn tom ford suit like it's armor. Ten Rings wanted him alive so of course they stopped shooting. Only saving grace is that I was there. Picked them off one by one."

"And now?"

"Fuck you, Rogers."

"You already did."

"Shut up. We gotta genius to save."

Now, Steve and Bucky are both respectable married men. But they are also known to be a little bit rotten on the inside.

[yakumtsaki]

Continuing to part 2, part 1 here!

Laksmhi gives us Gallagher Newson and they have 3 bolts! I've been playing the Tinkers because Melody is like 150yo and it'd be too sad to have them outlive their only kid. They both wanted a baby but were a few days from elderhood so I had them foster the Newsons in their giant house! It's such a wholesome household to play, like literally the exact opposite of this one.

Gallagher is super cute and I'd normally consider him for spouse but thanks to Barth's ridic 20 woohoo LTW all we want here is to get our first kiss and bounce. Will we do it???

-NOT IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT🐺

YOU. GTFO RIGHT NOW

-NOT A CHANCE, I'M HERE TO PICK UP MY OLD HOBBY OF COCKBLOCKING🐺

-And we're here to help! -The wolf that is, not our son!

FFS. Despite all this malicious sabotage-

-which at some point included Liz playing catch with the wolf, which Jojo only got him to do after like 30 years-

-this went really well! Not Felina-Meadow tier well, but well for Barth subterranean standards..

..Gallagher even got a crush on him from one little flirt! Cute!

We take our date Downtown to seal the deal, everything is going great-

-Bartholomew is pulling these impressive moves.. and then.. FOR NO DISCERNIBLE REASON..

I CURSE YOU, SHAJAR'S PERSONALITY PANEL. I CURSE YOU TO DAMNATION

-How dare you not accept my flirting! -YOU JUST PUT ME IN A HEADLOCK, FREAK -What's your point!

-Look at these shameless idiots dancing! Gross! I'd have to be like.. 200% drunker than I am right now to even consider it! -You're drunk?? -You're not?? Man if I was a broke orphan I'd be drunk all the time. Which I am. Drunk all the time, I mean, not a broke orphan. -I'm outta here. -WHAT! WHY!

Welp, we still got our first kiss thanks to the automated goodbye kiss thing that I finally have to get the mod that disables it because it pisses me off. But whatever, a win all around!

-Hi, Grandpa >:( -What's wrong, Bartholomew? -I WISH I WAS DEAD

-This is exactly what I was worried about when your mother married into that trash family, look at you.. -What! There's nothing wrong with me! -Nothing? Really?? The correct form is 'I wish I WERE dead'! -WHO CARES -Clearly not your dimwitted, Union-gene inflicted self! -OH THAT'S IT, GET READY TO RUMBLE

-I can't believe Grandpa Ti-Ning beat me up! This is the worst day of my life!

At least you have Jimbo!

-Yes, yes I do.. It'd definitely make me feel better seeing the shock and betrayal in his eyes as I choke him to death.. -Ha, like you can get your tiny hands around my thick-ass neck, pussyboi, I'll bite your entire head off! Now shut up and clean off this manure I've been rolling in, and look at me in the eyes while you do it!! -..I need a drink.

Yes you do, I mean if this is how your life is gonna go you might as well be drunk.

Sandy has found a new dog bestie in Veronica to the point she completely missed work to stay and play with her-

-while iVan is team Wendi!

-𝙸 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙸𝚃, 𝚆𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙸; 𝙸 𝚃𝙾𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙱𝙸𝙳𝙳𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁;

-𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝚈𝙾𝚄, 𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚈, 𝙹𝙸𝙼𝙱𝙾 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚆𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚈; -JI̸M̵BO B̴E̶L̴O̶N̴G̸S W̴I̷T̵H V̵E̸R̷O̵N̵IC̷A̶, Y̴O̵U̶ AN̷D̷ YO̵U̵R̵ C̷A̵T AR̸E B̵O̴T̶H PE̴RV̶E̷RT̵S🧟‍♀️

-Forget it, Jim, it's Uniontown.

As I'm intently watching the billionth iVan-Sandy fight the fighting window pops up again-

-and sure enough, THIS BETTE/JOAN SHIT HAS ESCALATED. I 1000% blame Barflina.

Bruh. Not only did Sophie lose-

-but her disloyal hoe wife immediately went to chat with Liz after! SHAJAR FFS

-What! I'm allowed to socialize with whoever I want and I happen to like Liz! It's not because I have some deep-seated resentments toward Sophie or anything!

It's ok, Soph, you'll always have your pets💛

-And my pets will have Eliza's heart for dinner💛

Can't blame you💛

It's officially time to fuck off for college as there's some glitched bill on the lot and we got repo'ed despite not owing anything! Gross!

-HA! I TAKE YOUR POOL LIGHT. I TAKE IT

For a moment I thought you were taking Glitched Butler #7!

You know what, take Shajar while you're here. BITCH FFS

-What!

You've talked more to Liz since she beat up Sophie than you have the entire time you've known her!

-That's a complete coincidence!

Ya well when you get fed to the dogs it'll be a complete coincidence too!

Alright we're outta here, college time for Barflina. Can't say I'm looking forward to it!

-Anything to get me into Meadow's arms and away from Grandma Victoria's batshit ghost!

-THAT URN-SMASHING BRAT IS NOT WINNING THE HEIRSHIP AS LONG AS I LIVE👻

Vic, I don't know how to tell you this, but you are not currently living. Well, I guess you metaphorically ~live through~ Barflina.

-GROSS. I'D RATHER BE DEAD👻

See you at La Fiesta!

[prettylittlels]

He (Tom Blyth part 1)

summary: you meet a beautiful stranger on the train, what a shame you'll never see him again

He. He, who looks like a Lana del Rey song. He, who dresses old money style and wears tweed suits. He, who looks like the leading man in a book written by a woman. He is an Alex Turner mixed with Tommy Shelby. Just him. That's what occupies my view at the moment. One Wednesday afternoon on the subway, he appears in front of me. So elegant, so delicate, yet so masculine and impetuous at the same time. He is the only thing in this world that is a pleasure to see, what a sight for sore eyes! I don't know how long I've been looking at him, mesmerized by the way he is. If it were up to me, I would stare and stare at him all my life with pleasure. But not everything turns out the way you want it to, does it? In this trance-like state, I don't pay much attention to a woman to my left screaming fiercely. Nor had I realized she was talking to me, still focused on this divine being; only really hearing as she waves her wrinkled hand wildly up and down my face.

- ... stupid ? Are you deaf? -

- Excuse me, madam,- I reply, -I'm...

-No! - she yells at me again - didn't you notice that I've been trying to tell you something for five minutes?-

-I'm sorry, really - I say trying to keep calm. Is anyone witnessing this? - I didn't mean to... - Turning my head, my gaze meets his.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! At that very moment I begin to question all my decisions made during the day. What is he going to think of me now? Surely I must look like an idiot who doesn't listen well. I look awful today, is he looking at my hair? Why didn't I put some makeup on today?

But all those doubts vanished the second he started smiling. I used that millisecond to burn that image into my brain. It was as if God himself sculpted that smile.

Before the insufferable old woman could continue screeching, the subway arrived at my stop and I took that opportunity to run out through the automated doors. Independence station wasn't the most well-kept station in the city, so as I escaped I collided with the rest of the people trying to get into the subway to avoid stepping on any garbage bags. Approaching the stairs to go up to the streets again, I accepted the fact that I will never again meet that man who looked out of a Vogue magazine, and that I will only meet with him again when creating romantic fantasies, where I live in a double apartment in Edim....

-Miss! Miss! - echoes a man's voice along the corridor - Wait a second! -

I stop. I sigh. I turn around.

Who could it be now?

It was him. Him! He's walking towards me! No, running towards me. With a purse very similar to mine. Wait, what?

-You forgot your bag on the subway - he breathlessly informs me. She laughs as she laughed before - I almost didn't notice -

He holds the purse out to me.

-Th-Thank you - I manage to say. Fucking hell, the first time I talk to her and I already look bad - Sir.-

- Ha! - That smile again - You're welcome -

I grab my purse, and hold it against my chest. What do I say to him? Oh, God; my nerves are eating me alive. Brain, where's an excuse when you need it?

I smile politely to show my gratitude and turn around to climb the tall stairs. I need. To get. Home. Now.

The man looks at me confused and wishes me goodnight. He's walking the opposite way from me, and I couldn't be more relieved.

[kit-williams]

I guess I'm doing more of that self insert

I have to thank @yawnderu's König character study post and @wordstome for their Königcore bible post and of course oh and @ghouljams for their König as well... there are too many cod dearies who helped me create this idea of him

But the part that really inspired me was this

so yeah enjoy

My clothes were nice and warm still. I still blamed Ghost for me forgetting what I was going to program but honestly it wasn't really important just stuff they gave me to keep me busy... enrichment really. I could look at the news and internet and my chats from my phone, when they weren't busy data scraping it, but I couldn't interact at all. I was in the kitchen making myself some hot chocolate to ignore the fact that I missed my baby and yet he had mommy right there with him.

I took the mug of now warm milk out of the microwave, I wasn't going to fuck up the militarily British men's kettles by heating up milk in them for some hot chocolate. I crouched down in front of the fridge trying to find the whipped cream I keep in there for my hot chocolate. I perk up when I hear it and smile at the massive man putting it down having taken some to eat as well as put on my hot chocolate. "Thanks Hans."

It embarrassingly took me a very long time to figure out Hans was König... I should have seen it coming really. I mean who else is nearly 7 feet tall? and speaks German... in my defense I have been very out of sorts. He plucks down the mini marshmallows for me... my 5'3 height as last time he caught me trying to go at them I had climbed up on the counter and just looked like a dog that had something in their mouth that they weren't suppose to have. In reality I just was embaressed I was climbing onto the countertop like a child.

"Koboldchen tell me about your day and what you need done." I hear him say as I sip my drink and sit down... and well prattle to him.

König was so helpful it hurt. I wasn't use to living on my own... I never had and I never could... I knew that long before I graduated high school or college. Luckily everything was usually automated and could just be taken out of my account but I still struggled so hard. König reminded me of how my husband would just patiently help me. He didn't mind my weird quirks... he let my fidgiting hands move over his calloused ones just letting me get some sort of stimulating satsifaction.

There was also something else that hurt so much... it hurt with Johnny and it hurt with Hans... just how blue their eyes were. It was like he was still right there ready to pick me back up and laugh at me for this dream. To tell me I've obsessed a bit too much and that it's time to focus on something else. Though I was jealous at how lovely the red in his hair looked but I continued to talk.

------

König could tell she was spiraling hard around a drain... Price had informed him of what was going on and the possibility of getting in on the ground floor if things followed suit about Ukraine. But, lucky for his Koboldchen... he was there. He wouldn't lie that he took a strong fondness to her after helping her when he found her hiding between buildings clawing at her skull and unresponsive to his voice and touch. He remembers helping her while someone went to find Ghost as she remained non verbal and he just talked.

She was a helpless thing and she knew it and embraced what she was good at to stave off the way her figurative plane was still crash landing... limping in its descent. And he knew why... he saw what was on her phone. I would kill for you. The message had popped up while they were discussing... and he watched the intimate text exchange like an unwilling voyeur But please make sure I never get the chance to. I'm scared I might be too proud about it. She was madly and obsessivly in love with a man she could not chase after anymore. And it was eating her alive. The love of her life was right there yet so far out of her reach.

For König he doesn't remember when he fell for the weird little creature just playing with his hand. Was it when she just chirped out 'Numa Numa' with Soap and Ghost... oh she loved to sing songs that the three early thirty year olds knew... like a joke that he knew about but was just a little too old to have been part of the same culture. Was it when she just asked him to crush her in a hug to ground her, to hold her so tightly she bruised but the way she sighed in his ear as the anxiety left her eyes. Or was it at first sight just seeing her a helpless sad thing that when Ghost had come to collect her she clung to him like a wounded animal.

Hans was okay not being the love of her life... he was okay with playing second fiddle to a man he knew nothing about except the passionate and near constant texting and speaking... pictures... videos... a life that has her eyes glittering with devotion to a man who he didn't know. As long as he could be by her Hans was fine as she allowed him to be close... to touch. She was like a dog recently left at the shelter confused but wanting those pets and comforts she was so use to.

"Do you want me to come by and make you dinner or is Ghost doing that tonight?" He asked softly knowing full well Ghost and Soap hovered around her as much as they could.

"He's gone for awhile. Yes. I don't want to be alone." She said putting her forehead on the table and just moved his hand to her scalp where he gently scratched.

"Of course Kobold." He said scratching the top of her head humming softly.

Oh yes he had been a voyeur of her texts but he was a snoop heading onto websites she said not to and seeing things he wasn't expecting really... but he was pleased to know that he fit into a definition of something she liked.

[episodicnostalgia]

Star Trek: The Next Generation, 120 (Apr. 11, 1988) - “The Arsenal of Freedom”

Teleplay by: Richard Manning & Hans Beimler Story by: Maurice Hurley & Robert Lewin Directed by: Les Landau

The Breakdown

The USS Drake has gone missing after being sent to investigate a planet (Minos) whose entire population has ALSO gone missing; so naturally the Enterprise has been sent to figure out why there are so many missing people connected to one planet.  On a probably-unrelated-note, it turns out the Minosians were arms dealers who sold super advanced weaponry, but I’m sure that won’t be relevant to the following 45 minutes.  Anyways, the Enterprise arrives at Minos to find zero signs of life, except for a hailing frequency originating on the planet’s surface.  Obviously Picard accepts the call, but it just turns out to be one of those un-skippable YouTube advertisements for a highly advanced weapons system, and Picard is like “That was weird. We should send some people to the surface to check that out.”

For what must be a first for this ENTIRE crew, Tasha makes a rational security decision in convincing Riker to keep the away team as small as possible, in the interest of general ship safety (since there is absolutely no sign of the missing Drake, which I honestly think is a MUCH bigger red flag than Picard is making it out to be).  Riker agrees (taking only himself, Tasha, and Data), but gets himself caught in a statis field almost immediately, so Picard throws caution to the wind and beams himself AND Dr.  Crusher down to help out… somehow.  Although, credit where credit is due, Picard does have the foresight to leave Geordi in charge of the Enterprise with orders to abandon him and the away team if it means protecting the ship.

Naturally all this leads to a double-jeopardy situation.  Down below, the away team keeps getting attacked by little killer drones that regenerate-and-adapt every time one gets shot down; meanwhile separate drone starts attacking the Enterprise, slowly picking away at the shields (oh, and it can cloak, making it tough to kill).  Geordi finally figures out a way to outsmart his mechanical nemesis by using the displacement of Minos’ upper atmosphere to reveal the drone’s location.  At the same time Picard conveniently falls into a pit that happens to contain a control panel that activates the holographic salesman (from the aforementioned automated message) who prompts him to finalize the purchase of their killer drones, in order to “end the demonstration”; thus completing what has apparently been a VERY high-stakes sales pitch. 

At this point it’s been concluded that the Minosians accidentally created a killing machine that was so effective it accidentally murdered their entire species, in addition to anyone who came poking around.  Since the Enterprise is now safe, and the mystery of the Drake’s disappearance is solved (in that the crew are confirmed to have met a nightmarish end), we can chalk this up to another happy ending!

The Verdict

There’s something to be said for a straightforward adventure story, and ‘arsenal of freedom’ successfully delivers on that front.  I can’t say there’s enough going on here for me to classify this episode as one of “the greats,” but it makes good use what it does have.

The highlight of this episode has to be Geordi’s command of the Enterprise.  It’s nice to see some genuine progression for a character that I’ve often felt gets overlooked, made all the better by the fact that I found his solution to the drone battle refreshingly plausible!  Usually when Star Trek is dealing with cloaked adversaries, it gets resolved with some kind of tachyon-scanner-upgrade-techno babble.  That’s all well-and-good AS LONG the writers also take care not to abuse such genre-conventions (which is another matter entirely), but I still tend to prefer solutions that adhere to the laws of physics.  As for Geordi’s time in command, I also appreciate how this episode builds on his previous experiences, in throwing him a greater challenge to overcome.

The away team’s adventure definitely makes up the weaker half of the episode, but even that is at least cheesily entertaining, avoiding any glaringly cringy moments.  My main criticism would be over how convenient Picard’s discovery of the control panel was, allowing him to call off the drones; but this is far from the most egregious deus ex machina on a Star Trek show, and it certainly won’t be the last.

But yeah, fun stuff.

3 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

I’ve gotta say, the skies of Minos are a beautiful shade of bluescreen- I mean blue.

TNG always suffered from a “women character problem”, in that the writers seldom knew what to do with them, so I was pleasantly surprised with this episode.  It’s not so much that writers did anything groundbreaking with the ladies here, but this has been their best overall use of them up to this point, by my reckoning. Tasha is shown to be competent and reliable, Crusher is able to keep her wits about her after she’s injured (even getting some added backstory), and even Deanna’s council to Goerdi isn’t half bad (which is really saying something for these early episodes).  The show still has a tremendous amount of work left to do in this regard, but it’s at least a tiny step in the right direction.

BATTLE BRIDGE:  This is only the second time we’ve been shown the Enterprise’s saucer section separating from the rest of the ship.  It’s a pretty cool feature that will be seldom used, but it’s an effective way to sell the raised stakes of a given situation, and thoughtfully applied here.

[trashideas]

Average guy Dokja and mafia leader Joonghyuk

Dokja is a normal, average guy. Nothing about him stands out and the only thing noteworthy about him is how he can function on practically zero hours of sleep every day.

Dokja works horrible hours at Minosoft, some weeks he works practically nothing while other weeks he can clock 17 hours in a day. Dokja is a filler, a person who works when others call in.

There has been whispers in the office for the past few weeks about a company party. Apparently, all the employees were going to be invited. Dokja wonders if this will be mandatory.

A week later, Dokja receives an automated email from his company that he will receive a letter with the address of the party.

Why couldn't they have just put it in the email?

...

Dokja stares at the letter in his hand with disdain. He doesn't know whether to be surprised or not.

[Meet at Constellation Park, 6th Avenue]

The card was small. The size of printed business cards. Black with grey print that Dokja had to hold a light underneath to even read.

Honestly, if Minosoft couldn't even print readable cards, then why host an event?

And then came the second thing- why at Constellation Park? It was known for its nefarious activities at night. Wait- there wasn't even a time?

Dokja’s business email pinged, notifying him that someone called in and he needed to pick up tomorrow’s shift. He could ask Yoo Sangah about the time then.

...

It's the day of the company party and Dokja is really regretting all of his life decisions that lead up to this point. Of course it would be a mascarade party because why wouldn't it be?

It's 8 pm on a Saturday and Dokja doesn't work tomorrow. This is the perfect reading hour, but nooo, he just has to go to some company party in the middle of the night in a shady place.

Dokja probably looks shadier than any regular shady person. He doesn't have the money to go out to buy anything fancy, so he has his normal business suit with a simple black mask and sunglasses.

Sunglasses. At night.

Yeah, nobody would approach him.

Dokja passes an alley, when something catches his eye. He stops and looks back into the alley.

There is a man, also in a black mask with a suit. Was... Was this where the party was at? This place looked sketchy as fuck.

The man, who was standing in front of a door painted to look like the bricks around it, looks up at him. “Do you have an invite?”

Dokja fumbled for the business card invite and showed the other. The man took it and shone a light underneath the card, revealing the words. Once he accepted the invite, he knocked on the door a few times in a rhythmic pattern and the door opened.

Holy shit the company was really going all out with this party.

Dokja could see a brightly lit hallway furnished with very expensive looking small tables that held even more expensive looking items on them. Dokja was gestured inside.

Walking down the hall, Dokja feels his phone buzz. He opens it up to see a message from Yoo Sangah.

<Where are you?>

Dokja replies with a quick, <just got here. Where are yiy at>

<I’m by the punch table. It's right by the door, you can't miss it>

Dokja looked around. Yep, still just a long hallway with an open doorway at the very end. He quickly just takes a picture and sends it to her.

<Kim Dokja where are you?>

<the party?>

<That does not look like the company building>

<the party is at the company building?>

<Kim Dokja what is the address you're at?>

<not too sure>

<Is this a joke?>

<nope>

<You're trespassing so get out of there.>

<i was invited in>

<Oh my God.>

<dw I won't die probably>

....

Yoo Joonghyuk arrived at the location listed and knew instantly that something was wrong. Not only was this a company building, but also there were no guards or security.

He called up his associate, Han Sooyoung, who was already at the meeting.

“I have the wrong address.”

“How big of an idiot do you have to be to get an address wrong. It's literally the only thing listed.”

“I have the wrong invitation.”

“Well that's an uh-oh. What did you do with it?”

“Has someone suspicious entered?”

“Everyone here is suspicious.”

“I'm going to kill you. Be serious.”

“I'm being deadly serious.”

Joonghyuk’s grip on his phone was deathly, it's honestly a surprise the device isn't broken yet. “Give me the address. Tell the guards to not let in anyone suspicious.”

“Will do- I'll make sure everyone leaves.” with that, she hung up.

Joonghyuk doesn't know why he even puts up with her. She gets on his nerves way too easily.

...

Dokja isn't sure if he walked in on a cult meeting or the mafia.

In all honesty, it could be both.

People are in ornate masks. Some masks are form fitted to the face, others are geometric shapes or patterns, and then there are the masks that look to be of some sort of animal. The most notable of the last kind was an entire dragon head.

Could this be some sort of underground furry convention..?

Someone with a form-fitted golden mask and- are those angel wings? Why are they made with actual bird feathers?!- walks up to him, a drink in either hand. She offers one to him, he was about to say he doesn't drink but didn't want to offend her and ends up taking the alcoholic beverage. “Hello! You seem new. I'm Demon-Like Judge of Fire, also known as Uriel.”

So we’re using our fake names. Quick. What's the last novel he read? “Demon King of Salvation, at your service.” That's the best he could come up with??

Part 2 tomorrow I swear

[writings-by-fairy]

Double Trouble

Fandom: American Housewife

Pairing(s): Oliver Otto x Cooper Bradford with background relationships

Words: 2,353

Rating: T

Warnings: drug use (specifically marijuana)

Summary: Oliver is offered a couple little treats.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The bus was late to picking up Oliver, he sat in the back of the bus tapping his leg anxiously. He was supposed to be at Cooper’s frat 20 minutes ago and now Cooper isn’t answering him. Oliver knows its probably because Cooper got distracted but he can’t help but let his anxiety race. Oliver reminds himself that Cooper always ends up talking to someone for hours. He always made friends with everyone when he was drunk: he has been promised that he will be the best man at 2 weddings just this semester.

“Approaching…Lion Drive Apartments,” the automated bus rings out. Oliver peaked his head up and got ready to get off. He thanked the driver as he got off, he looked around for a second, taking in everything. Cooper’s frat was on fraternity road which means every weekend the streets are filling with drunk people trying to take care of other drunker people, vibrating music, and so many LED lights (it was not a safe place for people with epilepsy).

Oliver began his walk to the frat when he felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out and saw Cooper’s face light up his phone screen, incoming call.

“Coop?”

“Ollie!” He had a couple drinks. “Oh, I miss you! When…when are you getting here?”

“Well, Cooper.” Oliver smiled as he saw the frat come into view. “If you knew how to check your phone, you would know I am not coming.”

“WHAT?” Oliver laughed as he held the phone away from his ear, he could still hear Cooper making a scene, even heard a few angry voices telling him to shut up. “Oliver. You’re joking and I need you to tell me that.” Cooper’s voice became quiet at the end, he had had a rough week and truly the only thing keeping him from losing his mind was Oliver. Though they hadn’t even seen each other much throughout the semester, just the thought of Oliver kept Cooper at ease.

“Look behind you, weirdo.” Cooper snapped his head around to see Oliver standing there still on the phone. Oliver hung up and opened his arms for Cooper, which he happily accepted. Cooper ran into Oliver almost pushing the two over. “I missed you too.”

They hugged for a few seconds, a couple awes and kms’s were heard as Oliver wrapped his arms around Cooper’s neck, breathing in his expensive cologne.

They pulled back and stared at each other for a moment, just the two of them as the party warred on around them. Oliver invaded every part of Cooper making it feel like they were the only ones left in the world. Their reunion was short lived when the president of the frat came up to them.

“Yo, Coop, Ollie!”

Oliver just nodded his head towards him while Cooper settled for, “What’s up, player?” Oliver couldn’t help but giggle at the cringey phrase, he tried to conceal it with a cough.

“Could you fill in for Ric, he left the bar area and can’t be found.” The bar area was a sticky, old wooden bar that was built into the frat. There wasn’t much positive about the bar other than it provided drinks. There is a bonus of fighting off underage drunk girls who swear they just left their ID at home, they sweaaarrrrr. (Cooper has heard that one too many times this year).

Cooper looked to Oliver, he looked worried that he was leaving Oliver all alone. Oliver grinned at him, “Go, you loser. I will be fine and waiting for you right here.”

“You know what, Coop.” Brody, the president, started clasping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder shocking him slightly. “I will make sure that your precious Oliver here is having the best night of his life.” Cooper smiled at the two, more pointedly at Oliver though. He said his good-byes before taking over the bar.

Oliver was anxious to see what Brody had planned. Usually, Oliver arrives at the frat, he hangs out with everyone downstairs, then him and Cooper just go up to his room for the rest of the night. Unless Cooper hears No Hands start. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ Cooper’s arm around Oliver’s waist kept him grounded as he felt his head was spinning. It was one of the guys birthday or something, either way, it was a great excuse to drink on a warm sunny Saturday. Oliver had to lead Cooper away from the party, the clothes were starting to come off.

Just as Oliver felt the sweet release of sleep start to creep up, Cooper shot out of bed. Oliver wasn’t even fazed, just annoyed he now had to change his position. He pulled the comforter over after Cooper ungracefully flung himself from the bed. his head to help block out the noise of the downstairs party, how is it still going he wonder.

Oliver was confused about what Cooper was in such a rush for but he didn’t even have time to stop a shirtless Cooper from running out the room, but then Oliver heard it.

“Girl, the way you moving, got me in trance…” and he immediately recognized the song. He laughed to himself for at least 2 minutes, of course his boyfriend would wake from a deep sleep when he heard No Hands. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ Cooper gave one last look to the two before smiling and started to push his way back to the bar, it was extremely crowded. Oliver looked up at Brody expectantly, he never hung out with him one-on-one, but they had many interactions, in fact he was one of the only ones who knew about Oliver and Cooper.

Brody smiled at him before leading Oliver over to the beer pongs table which were in the frats make-shift living room. Brody told him that he promised a few people a game or two, but he was welcome to sit on the couch or watch.

Oliver spent the first game standing and watching, cheering for Brody when he got one in. After the first round, Oliver decided to sit on the couch: he fell back as much of the springs that were in the couch were gone or broken.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Oliver immediately apologized to the person he fell back on when sat down. “I did not mean to shove you, its just that there is no support so I fell-“

“You gotta chill, it is no big deal at all bro.” The guy laughed, patting Oliver on the back. “Apollo.”

“Oliver.”

Apollo leaned back, dragging Oliver down with him. They just sat there shoulder to shoulder for a while, talking about everything and nothing. Conversation fell easy and Oliver felt he finally made a friend.

Oliver was bouncing his leg before Apollo pushed down on his leg stopping it, “Bro, you gotta chill.” He started reaching in his cargo pockets before pulling out a couple Oreos. “You want one?” His stomach growled at the site, he didn’t realize how hungry he was.

“Uh, I would love one, maybe two?”

“Wow there, are you sure?” Apollo got two out, Oliver wondered why this guy brought a ziploc bag of Oreos but he was just grateful. “They aren’t Oreos..” He the two hesitantly and Oliver was already eating one.

“I don’t care if they are off brand or what,” Oliver happily ate the two before settling back but heard his name being called shortly after.

“Oliver!” He looked up to see Brody waving him over to one of the tables. “My partner left, you know how to play?” The three frat brothers stood at the table, looking at Oliver.

Oliver laughed, “Uhhh, not well.”

“Doesn’t matter, get your ass over here.”

Oliver apologized to Apollo before getting up to the table. He stood beside Brody, fidgeting heavily: he looked over at Apollo who looked at him and held two thumbs up. As the game went on, Oliver became more comfortable and turns out that he is really good. People started asking to play because they couldn’t believe how good Oliver was, they just chopped it up to beginners luck but changed their minds when it was Brody and Oliver celebrating a win, not them.

“Okay, one more game,” They had been playing for three games now and Oliver carried each one. The nickname, goat, was starting to spread around. At this point, there was a small crowd surrounding their table.

Just as Oliver went to throw the first ball, he felt a complete change in himself. He just froze; feeling lighter, heavier, dizzy, he stood there staring at the table for at least a minute.

“Uhhh, Oliver…you good?” Brody leaned down and put a comforting arm on his.

Oliver just looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, man. Feling great.” His eyes were now blood shot and barely open.

“Did you take anything?”

“What?” Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed. “I…uhm…I just had some of Apollo’s Oreos. No drinks or anything.” He laughed a little, why was Brody asking him that, he waved over at Apollo who looked completely spaced out now.

Brody excused them from the match despite many, many protests. He lead Oliver to the bathroom and turned the lights on.

“Dude,” Oliver buried his eyes in his arm as he tried to block out any light. “Turn those off now, please bro.”

“How many did you take?”

“…what?”

“Oliver, how many did you have?” Brody put his hands on Oliver’s shoulders to help ground him. Oliver wondered why he cared.

“Just two.”

“Oh my god,” he pinched the bridge of his nose before running a hand through his hair. Brody took a deep breath and paced back and forth a little.

Oliver stared to panic, “Uhm what Brody? Brody, what’s happening? Oh my god…I am dying, aren’t I? Please!” Oliver raised his hands to curse God but felt like they were 10 metric tons, he tried to lift them a few times before dropping them. Brody grabbed him and started walked but Oliver became dead weight, he was not moving despite Brody, who works out at least twice a day, pushing him.

“Oliver, come on.”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t!” Oliver widened his eyes when he said it again, he believed he truly could not move his body parts. He chuckled to himself as he became okay with never moving again. Brody looked around as if looking for an answer before sighing and just throwing Oliver over his shoulder. Oliver did not know what was happening, but he couldn’t even try to fight back or anything.

Brody pushed his way through the crowd ignoring the “oh, someone had a little too much”, “freshmen”, or “can’t hold his liquor”. He finally made his way to the stairs and started to make his way up, he forgot about the two “bodyguards” at the platform to make sure no drunk people tried to sneak their way into their rooms.

He nodded at he two before making his way back to Cooper’s room. He went to turn the knob but was met with resistance, Cooper locked it. Brody cursed whoever was at fault for this, God, Cooper, the universe. He knelt and was able to sit Oliver down against the door who just rolled off like a Jello. Oliver’s eyes were closed, and he slumped heavy against the door.

“Oliver…Oliver,” He put an arm on Oliver’s shoulder, shaking him a bit. “There you are, you stay here, okay? I am going to get Cooper.” Oliver stared at him with absolutely no thoughts, he knew Brody was talking but could not decipher a single word. He heard Brody say something else before he fell back against the door.

Brody ran down the stairs as quick as he could, he did not want Oliver alone for that long. He ran behind the bar, interrupting the girl ordering from Cooper. He picked up a high noon and shoved it at her with a “on the house.”

Cooper looked at him with concern masked behind a smiling face, “Uhm, what’s up Brody? You miss me that much?”

Brody chuckled but Cooper knew it was not a real chuckle, more stressed. “So, funny story…Oliver is…” Brody looked for the write words causing Cooper to start to panic.

“What? What?” He looked behind Brody hoping Oliver was standing there. “Where is he? Is he okay? What happened?” He started to get close to Brody and raise his voice catching a few nosy eyes.

“Oliver got drugged.”

“What?!” Cooper yelled angrily, he went to push Brody out of the way, he was going to find his Oliver.

Brody pushed him back, trying to calm him back down, “No, no, no. Not like that…Someone gave him edibles but I don’t think he knew they were edibles.” He nervously talked through it and looked at Cooper with a pained smile, he did feel bad.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” Cooper asked again, slower and more dominant.

“Yes,” Brody let out a sigh of relief, he did not know he was holding. “He is sitting outside your room, waiting for you. I will take over here, get up there.” He shoved Cooper towards the direction of the stairs.

After Cooper pushed his way through the crowd earning a few grunts, he raced upstairs but still making time to say hello to the bodyguards. Once he reached the top, he saw Oliver laying on his back rubbing his hands back and forth on the carpet. He ran over looking at Oliver.

Oliver moved his head towards Cooper slower than Cooper has ever seen anything. He opened his eyes manually, he stared the boy looking down at him for a minute.

“Cooper!” Oliver smiled and started laughing. “You have to feel this rug!” He grabbed Cooper’s hand with surprising strength and rubbed his hand uncoordinated all over the carpet.

“Ollie.” Cooper couldn’t help the smile that shyly creeped across his face. He pulled his keys out of his pocket unlocking the door for them but as he started unlocking the door, they heard a group of footsteps climbing up the stairs.

Oliver immediately turned over and crawled as quick as he could and into the bed, he was breathing heavily as he calmed down. “What was that? That was terrifying!” he looked shaken up from the incident.

Cooper laughed before walking in the room, now he hasn’t had much experience dealing with high people especially when it is his boyfriend. He turned on the LED lights wrapped around his room to a soft purple color for them. He walked over to his desk, grabbing some water bottles he set there for them later and eye drops.

He turned around and saw Oliver just staring at the lights like they were the greatest thing to ever exist. Cooper slowly took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a photo of Oliver who sat up against the headboard with a blanket around him. He looked cute.

Oliver felt the bed dip in front of him and he was greeted by Cooper who had a water held out to him. Suddenly, he became very aware how dry his mouth was. He snatched the water and chugged half of it, breathing a little hard after.

“What is that?” Oliver mumbled his words together but luckily Cooper is used to mumbly Oliver in the morning.

“Eye drops, tilt your head back and open your eyes as wide as you can.” Cooper asked, reaching the bottle to Oliver’s eyes. It was almost comical how wide Oliver was making his eyes. He was able to get the eye drops in with surprising ease.

Cooper got up and pulled the blanket off Oliver who protested it greatly but was physically submissive for Cooper. Cooper went over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas Oliver left here.

“No.”

Cooper looked back at Oliver, “uhm, what?”

“I want yours.”

Oliver looked down bashfully and Cooper’s heart melted. He dug around his drawers some more before pulling out Oliver’s favorite shirt: a food challenge shirt that Cooper won the first week at campus. When he turned back, he was met with sniffles and Oliver crying now.

Cooper ran over and wrapped Oliver in a hug, shushing him. “Baby, baby. What is wrong?”

“Youuuuuu…” Oliver tried to talk but when he looked at Cooper, he just started bawling again. “You are up here taking care of me when you should be downstairs…” Oliver started sobbing, he felt everything so intensely.

Cooper laughed; he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, and now you are laughing at me!” Oliver turned over and pulled the comforter over his head, hoping to just wither away.

Cooper pulled the comforter down and caressed Oliver’s face. “Baby, I’m not laughing at you 100%. Just the thought you think I would rather be down there when the most amazing boy is right here.” He smiled at Oliver who slowly processed what he said.

“Taco Bell!” Oliver gasped and sat up looking for his phone.

“Taco Bell…all you have to say is Taco Bell?”

“Yes! Taco Bell!” Oliver lazily ruffled through the bed until he found his phone. Cooper looked over after a few minutes of silence to see Oliver holding his phone upside down trying to order. “Coop…its not working…” He handed the phone over to Cooper who put in the password and opened the Taco Bell app.

Oliver tapped on the phone screen mumbling things like “yes..yes..should I get two..yeah..” He handed the phone back to Cooper who laughed at the chaotic mess of an order that Oliver picked out. He placed the order and then the two of them just laid down and waited for the very needed text.

Once the driver arrived, Cooper went down and got it. The two laid out all their food and Oliver could barely contain his excitement; he has never wanted food more than he did now. Cooper put Oliver’s comfort show causing Oliver to smile wide, the amount oh love he felt in that moment was indescribable.

The Amazing World of Gumball played on in the background and Oliver ate all his food, moaning. This was the best food he had ever had. Eventually, he laid back to watch the show more comfortably but ended up falling asleep.

Cooper looked back at Oliver when he realized it had been silent for a while. He smiled at him: Oliver was laid back, arms spread, legs crisscrossed, and an unopened taco. He couldn’t let this moment leave his brain ever so he took a photo for him (and to post on Oliver’s birthday in a few months). He cleaned up what he could and turned off the TV along with the lights.

He knew Oliver would not want to wake up in his jeans, so he tried to wake him up. Oliver shushed him and stretched his legs out; Cooper took this as his sign to pull off Oliver’s jeans. Oliver let out a sigh of relief and curled up into his favorite sleeping position. Cooper pulled the sheets back and snuck in the bed. He scooted close to Oliver and wrapped his body around him.

He leaned up and kissed his forehead, whispering good night before sleep finally got to him too.

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ Oliver rolled over groaning, his head felt dizzy and his eyes were dry. He rolled over to see Cooper on his phone. Why was he holding a supreme Doritos locos taco still in the wrapper?

Cooper looked down when he heard Oliver groan and start moving around. “Ahhhh, look who is awake. How did you sleep?” He set his phone down and turned towards the sleepy boy.

“How-“ Oliver coughed and cleared his throat, why did he have cottonmouth? “What happened?” He sounded so confused and concerned and Cooper understood.

“How much do you remember?”

“Uhmmm…” Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. He was still waking up mentally. “I, Uhm, you left…then I met someone a new friend who gave me some oreos, he was chill.”

Cooper hummed and nodded.

“Oh, then I was playing beer pong but I wasn’t drinking…and then…I guess I woke up…here.” He gestured down to the bed.

“So you remember those Oreos?” Oliver nodded. “Those were edibles.” Cooper decided to rip off the Band-Aid and just be blunt with him, he had no idea how to react and to honest, Oliver did not know how to act. He started the denial phase.

“But-“ Oliver sighed. “but he said that they weren’t Oreos like I would care- OH!”

Cooper looked at him with a tilted head.

“When he said that they weren’t regular Oreos, I thought he meant they were off brand!” He buried his head under the covers, embarrassed now. Cooper smiled before cuddling Oliver, he told Oliver everything: Brody carrying him, him crying, Taco Bell, everything.

“Guess I owe Brody a thank you.” The two laughed a little before cuddling back up under the covers. They decided to spend the rest of the day in bed watching cheesy rom coms and laughing occasionally at the craziness of last night.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

I am on AO3 as the same username if you want to check out my other works. This is on there :P Requests are open so please message me

XOXO Fairy

[epithet-beloved]

HI. NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE. NO CLUE HOW IT WORKS. LOVE this page so far❗️It’s so clear to see how much love has been poured into it and I hope you all have nothing but good fortune coming your way. so… a heem heem herrmmm…may I request a romantic Jericho Felocity post…an imagine…a heem…

SAVE POINT

synopsis… Your boyfriend was a master escape artist. It was really only a matter of time before he escaped from prison and came home.

ft. Jericho Felocity

tags… epithet erased spoilers, fluff, post jailbreak reunion, mentions of prison gang, use of nicknames, established relationship, reader and Jericho live together

word count… 1144

a/n… YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I WAS TO SEE OUR FIRST REQUEST WAS FOR JERICHO!!! LIVE LAUGH LOVE JERICHO I EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE JERICHO!!!!!!!!!! ✧🦄

It had been about half past four when you received the phone call. Despite the risk of it being spam, you admittedly hadn’t looked away from the TV when you answered it. Things had been slow ever since your speedy boyfriend got taken to prison, so you might as well cure your loneliness by listening to an automated voice message.

“Hi!”

The single word had you shooting up from your slouched position instantly. That polite, unbothered tone and cheery voice could only belong to one person.

“Jerry?!” It was impossible to conceal your excitement. “I thought they didn’t give you phone calls!”

“Oh, they don’t!” A brief pause before he followed up, “I broke out. Me and some other people. They were my party members!”

…..I mean, could you expect anything less? You wondered why he didn’t just glitch out of his cell on the first day.

“We all left the party, so I should be coming home now.”

“Now?” You parroted his words.

“Is now not soon enough? I can try to shave off a couple more seconds if I backwards long jump over some of the cars if you want.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant! Now is good. Great, even, I’m just glad you’re finally—“

Jericho’s apologetic voice cut you off. “Oh, hold on, this is starting to phase through my hand. I’m gonna have to talk to you—“

The garbage noise on the other end informed you that your boyfriend had disconnected, but you weren’t upset at all. No, you were just left sitting on the couch with the timer app open.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four—

A knock on the door nearly caused you to drop your phone, but you managed to stop the timer at 4.97 seconds. It probably would’ve taken shorter if he didn’t go through the effort of knocking. It always took him a few tries to get his hand to actually touch the door.

You couldn’t beat his time, even if it was just going from the living room to the front door, but you knew he would forgive you. Despite being the fastest man alive, Jericho was never anything but patient with you. Loving you wasn’t a part of a speedrun, he said. He’s with you for a 100% completion run.

God, you love that dork.

Even if you didn’t open the door as quickly as you could, your prize was still there waiting for you when you did. Your boyfriend, grinning wide and sort of shaking in place. Just the way you liked him.

“Hi! I’m back. I really missed you!” He would say in quick succession, making the muscles of your face tug harder at the corners of your mouth with each sentence.

With a grin wider than you thought yourself capable of, you instructed him, “Stand really still for me, okay?”

“Okay!” Jericho Felocity mustered all the strength in his body to try and stand as close to still as possible for himself. The fact that Jericho could stand still for you was nothing short of a testament to how much he loved you.

When you were sure he was standing ‘still’, albeit shaking slowly, you would launch yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his shoulder. Jericho was stronger than he looked, barely budging even after you’d flung your entire body weight at him.

“Oh!” Taking the hint, his trembling hands found their place on your upper back. “Why are you crying? Are you okay?”

It was only when he’d said this did you feel your own tears wetting your cheeks. Ah, so you were.

“Yes, yes, more than okay,” a long sniffle interrupted your words, “just…..really happy to see you.

“I’m happy to see you too!” His reply was simple and matter of fact, like there was no reason he’d ever feel otherwise. These simple words along with the quick circles being traced into your shirt were Jericho’s unique yet effective method of comfort.

After a long yet comfortable period of silence, you would ask, “So, who were these ‘party members’ of yours? Were they all nice to you?”

“Oh, yeah! There was Ramsey, Indus and Mera, Dixon, Slim—“

“Slim?” You pulled back from the hug to shoot him a quizzical look. “Like California Slim?”

Jericho nodded. “Yep!”

“The murderer?”

And nodded again. “Yep!"

Well, that didn’t bode well. “You sure that guy is your friend?”

“I don’t see why not. He was actually kinda nice if you weren’t on his bad side.” Your boyfriend’s good nature prevented you from being even a little bit mad at him.

“Jerry, you are way too trusting. You’re just impossible to hate.”

A light blush coated Jericho’s cheeks, which you didn’t fail to notice. “Aw, c’mon……I wanna have you meet them someday! They’d love you.” He said that with such confidence, which in turn made you blush. “They were all so surprised when I said I was dating someone. Except Dixon. Dixon said he knew it.”

“I think Dixon is my favorite so far.” Your remark earned a frankly adorable laugh from Jericho. His hands lingered on your back, still drawing little shapes and patterns while you thought. “So where are they, do you know? I assume you all had to split and take care of business.”

“Oh, yeah.” His nods were so fast that you sometimes didn’t notice that his head had moved at all. “Ramsey did offer to all go get takeout together, but Slim didn’t want to, Mera and Indus had to leave, and…..” emerald green eyes averted from your face sheepishly, “…..I just really wanted to get home as quick as I could, honestly.”

“Oh?” You cocked a brow. “Another speedrun?”

A blurry shake of his head again, this time from side to side. “It’s not really like that, no. Just…..” you felt the strange, fuzzy feeling of his hands phasing through your body to rest on your shoulders instead. “It’s been a really long quest, and you always need to save after a long quest, right? I just really missed my save point.”

Save point? You scrunched up your nose. You don’t remember Jericho keeping anything that looked like a save point in the house. Did he pick one up from one of his wacky adventures at some point?

“Oh, I don’t know where that is, sorry Jer….maybe I put it away by accident?”

A hearty laugh was not the response that you expected from your boyfriend. It was rare for him to laugh that hard. Not that you were complaining, you just……weren’t sure what you said?

“No, no, I mean….” His bright smile warmed your heart, but not as much as his words.

“You’re my save point.”

Another thing you loved about Jericho Felocity was that his kisses were always electric.