#i made this ages ago but forgot to post it to tumblr?

[samdeans]

happy birthday to my girlfriend <3

[apocalypticchaos-art]

Blushing king of the undead

[ei-mugi]

yknow what maybe it was good that i never got more than 1 req for drawing anything ever because i did not ever complete that. soz. and i dont even post art t o my enstars art account i made specifically for posting enstars art. woopsi. i havent posted anything at all for a week have i

[stagtic]

( aw shit it he birthday )

[proxima-writes]

the right wrong number

pairing: pre/no outbreak!joel miller x soccer coach!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6k

summary:

When Joel receives a dirty text from an unknown number, he gives into his curiosity and messages back.

He doesn’t expect the number to belong to his daughter’s summer camp soccer coach.

dear reader:

this work is a request and a birthday gift for my sweet baby @mydailyhyperfixations , who’s been one of my biggest supporters since i started posting my work on tumblr. ily, and i hope you love the fic! special thanks to @cutesyscreenname for helping me with some lil details to finish this surprise. support and mdni banners by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age difference (undefined, but references are made), pre/no outbreak!joel miller, identity porn, wrong number au, sexting, dom/sub dynamics, use of ‘sir’, pet names, praise, thigh riding, semi-public sexual activity, spanking, safe word discussion, dirty talk, p in v. let me know if i’ve missed any!

Unknown Number: I had a really good time at dinner tonight!

Joel stares at his phone in confusion. It’s past midnight and he’s been sitting on the couch nursing a beer and watching Indiana Jones. He’s been in the same spot since Sarah went to bed a couple hours ago. His phone beeps again.

Unknown Number: It’s too bad we didn’t have time to visit Noir.

Joel raises his eyebrows. Noir is a bar in downtown Austin known for its calendar of speciality kink events. He’s seen it come up in his Google searches of local bars and had considered going to an event or two but never worked up the courage. His kinks remain between him and his porn search history.

Unknown Number: Wanna see what you missed out on?

[Photo 01.jpg]

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the image attachment. He nearly drops his phone when a photo of a woman fills his screen, sweet curves hugged by black lace on white sheets. He should absolutely tell her that she has the wrong number. His fingers type across the screen.

Damn, seems a shame something that gorgeous is going to waste.

Unknown Number: Who says it has to go to waste?

Joel swallows nervously. He’s already hard in his jeans, cock pressing urgently against his pants. He palms himself, trying to collect his thoughts.

Unknown Number: I’m feeling a little needy over here.

[Photo 02.jpg]

Against his better judgment, Joel opens the second photo and has to bite back a groan at the image of the woman’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of the panties, fingers hidden from sight behind lace and silk.

You want me to tell you how to play with that pretty pussy?

Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he presses send. This is a colossally stupid idea. This is a stranger, and he’s not the intended recipient of these messages.

Unknown Number: I’d really like that, sir.

Fuck it, Joel thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Start by circling those fingers over your clit. Nice and slow.

And when you feel like you could cum, I want you to go even slower.

Unknown Number: It’s too slow. I want more.

Be patient, baby. And aren’t you forgetting something?

Unknown Number: Sorry. I want more, SIR.

Joel presses a hand to the bulge in his jeans, the pressure offering little relief.

Now don’t start being a brat, sweetheart. You won’t like the result.

Unknown Number: Oh yeah? What would you even do?

I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the edge of the bed, ass ready to be spanked red.

Unknown Number: Fuck, that would feel so good. Bet your hands would feel amazing marking me up.

You still being a good girl and following my instructions?

Unknown Number: I think I forgot. Could you remind me, sir?

You’ll have to ask more nicely than that.

Unknown Number: Could you *please* remind me, sir?

Joel runs a hand over his beard before reaching for the forgotten beer on the coffee table and taking a swig.

You’re supposed to be teasing yourself for me. Nice and slow.

I want you to pinch your nipples until they’re nice and tight, too.

Unknown Number: Like this?

[Photo 03.jpg]

Joel bites his lip as he opens the third photo. You’ve got your bra pulled down to expose your nipples, hard and perfect and begging for his mouth. He unbuttons his jeans, tossing his phone on the couch only long enough to shimmy the denim down his thighs and free his leaking cock.

Just like that, baby. Such a good girl for me.

Unknown Number: Are you touching yourself, too, sir?

Of course I am, baby.

Unknown Number: Can I see, sir? Please?

Joel’s hand falters as alarm bells blare in his head. He should absolutely not open his camera. And he should definitely not find the perfect angle that doesn’t show his face. And he certainly should not grip his cock around the base, holding it steady as the shutter sounds and a new photo is saved to his camera roll.

No. He shouldn’t do any of that.

[Photo 04.jpg]

Unknown Number: God, your cock would feel so good in me right now.

Joel’s right hand moves at a steady pace up and down his length, left hand fumbling to type a reply.

Why don’t you fuck your little fingers and pretend it’s me, then?

Unknown Number: Won’t fill me up nearly as much, sir.

Be a good girl and follow my directions, baby.

Unknown Number: [Photo 05.jpg]

He opens the photo and his cock pulses in his fist. She has her underwear shoved to the side, two fingers plunged into her glistening pussy. His mind reels with an image of this faceless woman writhing on the bed reading his words, thinking about his cock stretching her open and he has to bite his lip to just keep the responding moan trapped in his throat.

Unknown Number: Can I cum, sir? Please?

Since you asked so nicely, yes. Make yourself cum for me, sweetheart.

Joel sets the phone aside on the couch, closing his eyes as he pumps himself with a tight fist while he imagines your desperate pussy clenching around your fingers. He cups his palm over the head of his cock as his release hits him like a freight train, hips flexing from the couch to chase the lingering sensations of ecstasy from his hand.

He stands, pulling his pants up without bothering to fasten them so that he can wash his hands in the kitchen sink. Guilt settles on his shoulders as he dries his hands with the dish towel while he stares at the couch where his phone is lit up with another message from a stranger he had no business seeing that much of.

He approaches the couch and sits with a sigh, running a hand over his face before picking his phone up to read her message:

Unknown Number: Easily my best orgasm. Hope it was for you, too. Don’t be a stranger xx

Feeling like an asshole, Joel deletes the thread and the wrong number for good, but it’s fine.

It’s not like he’ll ever meet her, anyways.

——————

You’re on the phone with your best friend, telling her about how the last guy you went out with about a week ago, a guy named Jeremy you met on a dating app, still hasn’t reached out to you again despite what you’d thought was a successful date.

“So he just never reached out to you after you sexted him all night?” She asks. “Men are so weird.”

You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder as you zip up your duffel bag of equipment. It’s the beginning of June and the summer soccer intensive camp for junior league starts today. You’ve got a full registration for the girl’s 13-15 division and you’re excited to get back on the field and help these girls do their best in a sport you love.

“Nope. Maybe I came on too strong? I don’t know,” you reply.

“You did come strongly. At least, that’s what you told me,” she says with a laugh. “Well, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll meet a hot dad coaching this year.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking someone’s dad.”

“Never say never, babe.”

“I gotta go find my damn cleats. I’ll talk to you later,” you tell her.

“Fine, I expect a full run down of every DILF you meet today.”

You hang up as she laughs, tossing your phone into your personal bag that you keep separate from the gear before you go in search of your cleats from your room.

——————

Joel and an over-excited Sarah sit in the parking lot of the soccer field that her summer camp is being conducted at, ridiculously early at Sarah’s insistence because she didn’t want to be late on the first day. They’re the only car in the parking lot so far, having apparently beat even the coach, and Joel sips at his travel mug of coffee in the hopes that it grants him energy.

Another car pulls up and parks beside his truck, loud music blaring from the open window. Sarah waves excitedly.

“That’s the coach,” she explains.

Joel watches you get out of your car and pop the trunk. You start pulling out bags of soccer balls and stacks of orange cones, bags of agility equipment and strength training aids. He opens the door to his truck and jogs over.

“Hey, you need any help with that?” He asks. You look over at him in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, sure. That would be great,” you reply.

“I’m Joel Miller, and this is my daughter, Sarah,” he says, gesturing to the young girl. She gives a little wave and he extends a hand out to you.

You give him your name, shaking his outstretched hand. “Y’all are a little early,” you reply, hefting a bag over your shoulder.

“My dad’s always late but I didn’t want to be late for camp,” Sarah says. Joel narrows his eyes at her.

“Not a problem. You can help me set up the cones,” you tell her. His daughter gives you a bright smile and he almost forgives her for throwing him under the bus. “I’ll grab these two bags, you grab the cones, and Mr. Miller, could you grab the balls, please?”

Joel fights back his childish laughter at your request, grabbing the bags as instructed. “Just Joel, please.”

You smile at him and he feels a bit blindsided by how it makes his heart beat faster, his palms a little sweatier. You’re very pretty, fresh faced and ready for a day of work, wearing one of those quick dry workout shirts that clings to your curves and a pair of shorts that show off your strong legs. Some traitorous part of his brain wonders what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Alright then, Just Joel. Let’s go.”

——————

“Thank you for the help,” you tell Sarah’s dad. You’re trying very hard not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his biceps or the broad expanse of his back as he sets down the two bags of soccer balls and places his hands on his hips.

He’s a handsome man, older than you by at least a few years, with tan skin and dark hair and kind brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at something Sarah says. His daughter has the same brown eyes and olive skin, her dark curly hair pulled into a bun.

Of course the first parent you meet this summer is a hot dad. It’s like you’ve spoken it into the universe.

“Not a problem. Glad I can be useful if I’m goin’ to be here this early,” he replies with a narrowed glance at Sarah, who is suddenly very interested in the stack of cones she carried to the field. “Anythin’ else you need me for?”

“Let me get you the game schedule and contact sheet.” You open your bag and pull out your folder of materials you like to give to parents, assembling a stack of papers for him. “On top you’ve got the emergency contacts sheet. Fill that out with your contact information and an alternate’s information, too, just in case I can’t reach you or someone else needs to pick Sarah up. You’ll want to have Sarah bring that back tomorrow.”

You flip the page. “The second page is just a welcome letter. It’s got my phone number on it, feel free to text or call if you have any questions or if Sarah can’t make it one day.”

“And then last we’ve got the camp schedule. The girls will have two tournament days where they’ll play against some nearby summer camp leagues. You can sign up to bring a snack by filling out the piece at the bottom. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t suppose I do. You’re very organized,” he says, taking the packet from you. You can feel your cheeks heating.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Well, I gotta finish setting up.”

“I won’t get in your way.” He calls out to Sarah and the young girl runs up to give him a hug goodbye. “Be good. I’ll see you later.”

——————

Joel Miller is the first at the field in the mornings helping you set up for the day and last parent to leave at pick-up, after he’s loaded your trunk up with the equipment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he grins at you.

His daughter is a great player, quick on her feet and smart as a whip, picking up the footwork skills you teach like they’re second nature. You’re telling Joel as much Friday afternoon in the second week of camp when Sarah bounds up and asks if you want to get ice cream with them.

“That’s a great idea, baby girl,” Joel says before you can decline. You blink at him and he gives you that lopsided grin that’s been giving you butterflies since the first day on the field. “But if you order mint chocolate chip, you’re buyin’ it yourself.”

“Good news, I’m a plain ol’ chocolate kinda gal,” you tell him with a laugh.

“Me, too!” Sarah says.

“I’ll follow you guys,” you suggest. Joel gives you a quick nod, herding Sarah into his truck and taking off toward town.

You follow them to a little ice cream parlor, the kind that sells old fashioned sundaes and thick milkshakes with red and white striped straws. You park beside them, watching as Sarah hops from the truck with a wide grin on her face and her dad comes around, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and pulling her close. Your heart feels warm looking at them.

Once inside, Joel and Sarah end up ordering a sundae to split while you get a small cone of chocolate ice cream. You try to tell Joel not to pay for you, but he hits you with a look that has your mouth going dry, any argument disappearing as all your blood rushes south and makes you ache between your legs.

“I’ll go get us a table outside,” you offer, licking at your treat. You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes track the path of your tongue.

You watch the busy foot traffic while you wait for the Millers to join you, the warm Texas air wrapped around you while you enjoy the slight breeze and your cold dessert.

A deep voice calls your name and you look around, finding a familiar face on the crowded sidewalk.

“Jeremy, hey. How are you?” You ask as the man approaches. It feels like forever ago that you went to dinner together and looking at him now you think he’s handsome but he doesn’t hold a candle to Joel.

“I’m good. Been busy. I gotta say, I was a little bummed I didn’t hear from you after our date. Thought we had a good time,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t…hear from me?” You ask nervously.

He tilts his head. “Yeah. Thought you said you would text me when you got home.”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I guess I just forgot.”

The bell dings above the door to the ice cream parlor, Joel and Sarah emerging with a sundae piled with whipped cream. Jeremy looks toward them, then back at you.

“I’m guessing another date is off the table?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.

Joel looks between the two of you, brow furrowed as he sets the sundae on the metal table and Sarah takes a seat, digging in immediately.

“Jeremy, this is Joel and his daughter, Sarah. She’s in my soccer camp this summer. Joel, this is my friend Jeremy,” you introduce. Jeremy holds a hand out to Joel, who shakes it briefly, brows still pinched.

“I better get going. Nice seeing you, let me know if you want to get together again,” Jeremy says before turning to leave. When you glance at Joel, his shoulders are drawn up and jaw clenched tight as he stabs his spoon into his ice cream.

“What do you guys have planned this weekend?” You ask to break the silence. Sarah perks up and begins to tell you about how her Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother, is taking her to a local carnival. You listen and nod along despite the fact that your thoughts are stuck on Jeremy’s words.

If it wasn’t Jeremy on the other end of your conversation that night…who was it?

——————

As the three of you walk back to your vehicles, Joel’s still thinking about that man who’d been talking to you at the ice cream shop and how it made his blood burn hot to hear him mention going on a date with you. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shook the guy’s hand, any information about the guy going right over his head. He didn’t even taste the ice cream or hear the conversation you and Sarah had about the weekend, lost in his thoughts about how between early mornings helping you prep for camp and late afternoons at pick up have all somehow allowed you to burrow into his heart.

A hand wraps around his bicep, halting him in his steps. He glances at your concerned face and suddenly all that tension leaves him in a rush. Sarah says her goodbye, hugging you around your waist before hopping into the truck, leaving the two of you alone.

“You okay?” You ask, taking a step closer.

“I’m great, sweetheart. Get home safe,” he says, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth. Your tongue pokes out, tracing your lower lip. He takes a step back before he’s tempted to lean in and chase the taste of chocolate and you.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Bright and early.”

——————

Sarah spikes a fever Sunday night and spends the night curled around the toilet while Joel coaxes some water into her and keeps her hair out of harm's way. When it seems that the worst of her nausea has passed, Joel leaves her to rest in her bed while he goes downstairs and grabs the contact list you’d given him at the beginning of camp.

He starts a text, letting you know that Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp, at least for today. When it’s sent, he heads back upstairs, armed with a sleeve of crackers to deliver to his daughter.

Maybe he can squeeze in a little bit of sleep for himself.

——————

Hey, it’s Joel. Sarah’s sick and won’t make it to camp today.

You stare at the text, mind reeling. Not because a parent is texting you, that’s pretty common and you hope Sarah is doing okay, but because you already have a thread with Joel.

One where you’d called him sir and told him his cock would feel so good inside of you because you’d thought you’d been texting Jeremy. Your cheeks feel so hot you worry spontaneous human combustion could actually be a thing.

What are you even supposed to do in this situation? Do you tell him about it?

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Oh, also, you’ve sent me a picture of your dick.

You delete the last line immediately, hitting your phone against your forehead like doing so might make your thoughts make sense.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. Any chance you can make good on that promise and bend me over the bed?

You delete the last line again with a groan.

Hey, Joel. No worries. Thanks for letting me know, hope she feels better soon. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Would you be able to meet with me after practice this week? Or sometime this weekend?

You hit send before you can back out, tossing your phone in your bag as you get ready to head out the door.

——————

Joel wakes later in the morning and reads your text message. His mind races with what you could want to talk to him about. Maybe you noticed how he reacted to your friend and wanted to tell him you’re uncomfortable? Or maybe something to do with Sarah?

Fuck, he thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. He reads the message a few more times but it doesn’t reveal any additional clues. He types out a message, pressing send before he can overthink the contents.

She seems to be doing better. Should be back to camp tomorrow. I can meet you somewhere for dinner on Friday after camp? My treat.

——————

Joel’s text plays on a loop in your brain for the rest of the week. Unlike the previous weeks of camp, he and Sarah don’t show up early. In fact, he’s been dropping her off almost at the last minute and picking her up promptly when camp ends, always managing to show up when you’re already pulled into conversation with another parent and driving off before you have a chance to talk with him.

On Friday, Joel is at the field early, leaning against his truck as he talks to Sarah. You park beside them, and he helps you unload your car and set up for the day, just as he had the weeks prior, making small talk like he hadn’t just spent the week dodging you after suggesting dinner. When everything is unpacked and Sarah is kicking a ball around, you follow Joel to his truck under the guise of needing one more thing from your car.

“Hey, are we still on for dinner?” You ask him. He runs a hand through his hair and you try not to let yourself zero in on the way his bicep flexes with the motion.

“‘Course. How ‘bout I meet you at that diner downtown? The one with the—“

“All day breakfast?” You finish. Joel grins.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Is six good?”

“Six is great.” You smile back at him, lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners and his mouth lifts slightly higher on the right.

“Coach!” Sarah yells, making you jump.

“Guess I better get out there,” you say, shifting nervously.

“Yeah, I’ll uh…I’ll see you later?” He asks.

“Looking forward to it.”

——————

To your surprise, it’s not Joel that picks up Sarah that afternoon, but another man with familiar brown eyes and dark curly hair. You grab your folder from your bag as Sarah greets the man, flipping through the pages until you’ve found her emergency contact form.

“Hey there,” the man says, a grin lighting up his face. “I’m Sarah’s Uncle Tommy.”

You shake the hand he’s held out towards you and introduce yourself. “Nice to meet you. Mind if I check your ID for alternate pick up?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, pulling a worn brown leather wallet from his jeans and handing you his ID from its contents. “Don’t judge the photo, alright? It’s old.”

A younger version of the man in front of you is pictured on the card, his curly dark hair buzzed short and a grim expression on his face. You note the name THOMAS MILLER beside the picture and check it against Sarah’s emergency contact form.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you tell him, handing back the ID. There’s a brief silence where Tommy seems to be assessing you.

“So…,” he says, rocking on his heels, “you’re the girl that’s got Joel all tangled up, huh?”

You blink. “Uh—“

“Uncle Tommy! Let’s go!” Sarah shouts from the parking lot.

“Hold your horses!” Tommy yells. He gives you one last knowing smirk. “Have fun with Joel tonight!”

You watch him jog over to the truck and get behind the wheel, Sarah waving at you as he pulls out of the parking spot. You wave back, but your mind is stuck on Tommy’s words, the implication of them having your stomach doing backflips.

——————

Joel’s fingers fidget with the straw wrapper, ripping it into small pieces that build in a pile on the laminate table while he waits for you to arrive for dinner. He’s still not sure what this is all about and that uncertainty has had him stuck in his head to the point where Tommy was giving him a hard time at work about it.

“Let me know if you need me to stay with Sarah overnight,” Tommy had said as Joel checked himself in the hall mirror one last time before leaving the house.

“It ain’t like that,” he grumbled back, but there was no changing his brother’s mind.

“Sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

The bell above the diner door rings with a new customer, pulling Joel from his thoughts. You’ve just walked in wearing a dress, a far cry from the soccer shorts and t-shirt he’s seen you in every day this summer. His gaze is pulled to the tantalizing glimpse of your chest he gets from the deep neckline and the way the fabric swishes against your thighs as you approach.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Sure,” Joel says, giving you what he hopes is a confident smile but he’s almost certain it’s more of a grimace.

A silence settles over the table as you both look at the laminated menus like they hold the secret to the universe. The waitress swings by and takes your orders - chocolate chip waffles for you and a medium rare burger for Joel.

“How’s Sarah doing with the camp?” Joel asks.

“She’s doing great. Easily one of the best players I’ve got this year,” you reply.

“Good that’s…good. You used to play for UT, right?”

“Yep, starting forward until I tore my ACL,” you tell him. “Now I coach because you can take the girl out of soccer but you can’t take the soccer from the girl.”

“That’s impressive,” Joel comments. “Is coaching your full time job?”

“No, I work in marketing for an instrument production company.”

“Really? You play anything?”

“Some guitar, a little piano. Nothing crazy. Do you?”

Joel laughs. “Been a while, but I got a guitar stashed away in a closet somewhere.”

The waitress returns with your food, setting the plates in front of you and asking if either of you need anything else before leaving the two of you to your meals.

Joel is a few bites into his burger when you set your fork down and say, “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’ve sent me a picture of your dick.”

Joel nearly chokes, sputtering for air around his burger and grabbing his Coke, desperate for relief. He chugs the beverage, tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask, wide eyes full of concern.

“No, I’m not okay, what do you mean I’ve sent you a picture of my dick?” He hisses, looking around the mostly empty diner.

“About a month ago I went on a date with that guy I ran into at the ice cream place, Jeremy? We met on a dating app so we were messaging through there and he gave me his number at the end of the night,” you say quickly. “And I texted the number with some…racy photos. And messages.”

Joel feels the rising panic in his chest. No, there’s absolutely no way that random number could have been you. There’s no way he sexted his daughter’s soccer coach.

“I didn’t find out it was you until you texted me about Sarah being sick. I still had the chat with your number,” you finish, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. Joel watches with building dread as you tap on the screen and set the phone on the table, sliding it toward him.

You’ve opened the chat with him, the innocuous messages at the bottom about Sarah missing camp giving way to photo attachments he doesn’t dare click on but remembers vividly. He looks up at you.

“I…I’m so sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have replied, the messages weren’t meant for me.”

“I’m not mad,” you assure him. “A little embarrassed, maybe. But also…can I be completely honest?”

“Of course.”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your messages.”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise. “You…really?”

“Yeah. And knowing it’s you…,” you say, voice trailing off. Your eyes are dark, a little smirk playing on your lips that has Joel’s cock twitching with interest. “Well, that makes it better.”

“It does?” Joel asks. You nod, picking up a bite of waffle with your fork, a moan of appreciation leaving your lips.

“It does,” you confirm.

Joel turns around in the booth and flags down the waitress.

“Check, please!”

——————

After paying for dinner, Joel walks you to the parking lot, his broad palm on your low back directing you to where his truck is parked.

He’s got you pressed against the passenger door, his chest grazing yours with each breath he takes. He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. His gaze grows dark as you dart your tongue out, flicking it against the digit.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” he says. Gone is the man who was mortified to find out he’d been sexting you and in his place is the man behind the screen. “You wore this little dress because you knew exactly what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

“Maybe,” you murmur. “You don’t like it?”

“Mm,” he hums, “Ain’t a matter of not likin’ it, trust me.”

His hands grip your hips, the fabric bunching in his fists as he moves a thigh between your legs. The sudden friction of his jeans, even through the barrier of your underwear, has you gasping.

“Joel,” you whimper, grinding over the muscle of his thigh. He kisses along the length of your neck, lips right over your racing pulse. “Come on, take me home.”

“You can ask more nicely than that,” he says, hands guiding the movement of your hips, forward and back, across his thigh. You moan, louder than you intended, too loud for the parking lot of a busy diner at dinner rush.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please, take me home.”

“Cum on my thigh and we can leave,” he replies. “Leave a nice little wet spot on my jeans and then I’ll take you home and make you scream my name as loud as you need to.”

Joel’s lips capture your own, swallowing the curse that was ready to spill from them at his demand. His kiss is rough, demanding, his stubble scratching your skin and his tongue tangling with yours as your hips continue to rock over his leg. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding tightly to him while the knot of need in your belly tightens.

“Come on, baby,” he says when he lifts his head, lips still pressed to your neck. “Make a mess, come on.”

You go still in his hands as your orgasm washes over you, your muscles stiff as your pussy pulses desperately over his thigh. Joel pulls you in for another kiss, this one slow and sweet to bring you back to reality.

When you’ve caught your breath, he steps back, adjusting the skirt of your dress back over your thighs. He looks down at his pants and then back at you, a smirk on his handsome face. You look down, face heating with embarrassment as you notice the dark patch of denim.

“Get in the truck, baby.”

——————

You give Joel directions to your apartment, his warm hand on your thigh the whole way there. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your skin again, the effect of your first orgasm wearing off and your desire building rapidly with each mile closer to your apartment.

He parks in the visitor parking and you move to open the door, but a tan arm reaches across and tugs it shut. Confused, you watch Joel jump from the truck and jog around to the passenger side to pull open your door and hold a hand out to you.

You’re laughing as he helps you from the truck and shuts the door behind you, your giggles persisting as you lead him upstairs and his arms circle your waist while you try to unlock your door. He hustles you across the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt.

“Bedroom?” He asks.

“End of the hall,” you reply.

Joel pulls you along behind him, a man on a mission. Once inside your room, you flip on your bedside lamp and Joel steps in close, framing your face in his hands and giving you another kiss that has the butterflies in your tummy going wild.

His fingers are curling into the hem of your dress, dragging it up your body and breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His lips are back on yours while his hands map your curves, calloused fingers catching on soft skin and making goosebumps erupt in their wake.

“Get on the bed,” he commands. You turn, crawling onto the mattress slowly, a wiggle in your hips. You look over your shoulder at the older man and find his gaze fixed on your ass. He grins. “You remember what I said last time you teased me?”

“No. I think I need a reminder,” you tell him. He huffs, shaking his head.

“Teasin’ me and gettin’ mouthy? Think that might earn you a punishment.”

Joel palms the cheeks of your ass, pulling them apart in a rough grip that has you gasping his name. His fingers dig into the flesh, the ache of them already making your head spin.

“Five ain’t enough, but it’s all I’ve got the patience for right now,” he says. His tone changes as he asks, “You got a safe word? If I need to stop?”

“Apricots,” you say easily. He tilts his head. “It’s from a TV show. New Girl?”

“Never heard of it,” he says. “Alright, apricots it is.”

He pulls your panties down, leaving them around your thighs. His thumbs spread you apart and the vulnerability of this position, your ass in the air and everything spread for him, by him, has you feeling like you’re on fire.

“Pretty little pussy,” he murmurs. “But I already knew that. Because you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl who sent me pictures just because I told you how to cum. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm.”

An open palm lands on your right ass cheek, hear blossoming on the spot as you gasp, lurching forward. His hands pull you towards him and he presses down between your shoulder blades, your back arching.

“Don’t move,” he commands. “That was one. You count the next one.”

Another smack across your other cheek, more sharp pain that shifts into dull ache as you mumble, “Two.”

He doles out two more in quick succession, each other making your pussy clench with need. You’re drooling into sheets, a whimpering mess as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds and lets out a deep groan.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he says. “Fuck, one more, okay? One more and then I’ll have you wrapped around my cock.”

You nod your head, bracing for the final blow across your sensitive skin. The sting of his palm as it lands makes your eyes roll back, the line between pleasure and pain so blurry you don’t know which side you stand on.

His hands leave your hips and without the support, you slide flat to your belly. Distantly, you register the opening of your nightstand drawer and the sound of Joel rummaging through the contents, followed by the muted thump of clothes being discarded to the floor.

Joel maneuvers you to your back in the center of the bed, pulling your panties off. “You did so good, sweetheart,” he praises. You smile at him.

“Do I get a reward now, sir?” You ask.

“‘Course, baby. Good girls get what they deserve.”

His hips press between yours, his cock sliding through your wetness and catching on your clit. He positions the thick head at your slick entrance, pressing in the slightest bit. You take in the sight of him, his broad chest held over you by strong arms, the muscles of his neck tense.

Joel slides in slowly, your body accepting him gratefully. The stretch borders on painful but the fullness has you digging your nails into his back, a moan falling from your lips. It feels like ages before his hips as flush to yours and all you can feel is Joel Joel Joel.

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

He pulls back slightly, thrusting forward with a sharp snap of his hips. As he starts to set a rhythm, he sits up on his knees, lifting one of your legs up with a hand on the back of your thigh and pressing it to the side. The position opens you up further, letting him get impossibly deeper, and all you can do is allow him to use your body to his liking.

It’s not long before you’re screaming his name, as promised, the knot of pleasure in your core pulling tight and getting ready to snap.

“You gonna cum again for me?” Joel asks, breathing labored as his pace doesn’t falter. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock. You’re such a good fuckin’ girl, I know you can do it.”

“Joel!” You shout, that last thread snapping as your orgasm rushing through you, stars bursting behind your eyelids as they snap shut with the force of it all. Your pussy clenches around him, his hips stuttering and growing sloppy until he’s pressing in deep with a groan of your name.

He collapses on top of you, a heavy weight but not an unwelcome one as you both try to catch your breath, sweat cooling between you. After a moment, his softening cock slips from your body and he rolls to the side, gathering you to his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel whispers back. He sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed and grabbing his jeans, pulling his phone free.

He taps on the screen and brings it to his ear, a distant ringing audible through the speaker.

“Tommy? Yeah, everythin’s fine,” Joel says when his call connects. He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you stay with Sarah tonight? Shut up,” he grumbles. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be back in the mornin’. Thanks, brother.”

Joel hangs up and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You’re staying?” You ask.

“Yeah, baby. I ain’t finished with you yet,” he replies, pressing a flurry of kisses to your face, neck, and shoulders, sending you into a fit of giggles.

——————

1 Year Later

“Alright, great job, girls! Let’s get your snacks,” you shout as your summer league girls jog towards you from the field following their third tournament game.

The girls crowd around the cooler that Joel’s prepared, grabbing small bottles of Gatorade or water and a bag of orange slices. They lounge around the sidelines and you step up beside Joel, bumping him with your hip.

“Thanks for the snacks,” you say. He grins at you.

“‘Course. Gotta take care of my girls,” he replies. He pulls one last bag of oranges from the cooler. “And one for coach.”

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask, looping an arm around his waist.

“What can I say? You texted the right wrong number.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

[balkanradfem]

It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable,  all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary.  I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew  centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

[abacus-jpg]

Anyone else not understand why people are moving to cara. Like I understand it’s because ai and shit,, but like. What confuses me is as long as your art is on the internet, aslong as you chose to post your art online anywhere, doesn’t matter where, it is prone to being stolen by ai. To me ai is nothing more then when people trace your art and call it their own. Ofc I don’t want people to do it, but ultimately that will not stop them. I do have a cara account, I was the first to claim abacus. When I tried posting there a few times I’ve been met with an error message, alongside that the app is really buggy and slow. I don’t see why people feel the need to come up with new apps to post art on when you could just use tumblr, but then the argument with tumblr is that there’s no engagement. But if we all flock to tumblr like people are flocking to cara then I don’t see why engagement would be such a big issue. Even then, if engagement is your main concern with your art I feel like you should reevaluate why you are pursuing art in the first place. I had this struggle ages ago where I didn’t feel my art was worth anything because I couldn’t cap 10 likes. But I realized, my art is for me. I’m the one that should be enjoying it, and my reason for posting now is for other people to enjoy it, so if they don’t,, I really don’t care all the much. I understand it is really detouring to post ocs and to have zero engagement, but that’s just the way art is. Unless you are producing fanart consistently of shit that is made into content farms, I really don’t see how you can garner a following just doing ocs. That’s why, doing art for your own sake is more important than trying to please everyone. I can guarantee there’s atleast one stranger on the internet that will fw your stuff the way you want. And the more you post, the more the number will grow. Most of the time it’s gradual, but one goes to two, two goes to three. And maybe you’ll only get one or two. But the important thing is, there’s someone. If you feel like you have no one, remember your art is for yourself. You’ll always have one, even if that is yourself. This might all seem contradictive. But trust, only you matter when it comes to your own artwork.

This “speech”, if you can call it that, isn’t to deter people from drawing and posting their ocs. This is just to say, engagement shouldn’t matter. As long as you’re happy, that’s all the matters. Post and draw what you want aslong as it’s not straight ripping from someone else. Idc.

This whole thing was supposed to be abt Cara but it turned into a uhh,, Ted talk of sorts. I’m not saying people shouldn’t use cara, if it works for them then by all means go for it. But personally I will not be making it my main form of social media. In my opinion, it’ll be like that other art app people were using for a week before they forgot abt it, I forget the name of it but I remember the interface was a light pink, similar to Instagram,, but somehow worse.

IM GONNA SPECIFY THAT I DONT CONDONE AI STEALING PEOPLES ART EITHER,, just putting that out there because some people have a way of misunderstanding or misinterpretating things. Which is okay!! Because some people genuinely get confused and that’s alright. But like please don’t use so first handedly. With that being said, I’m just a nobody on the internet so why would you listen to me,, you won’t. But i uhh,, am gonna put that there anyways

Thanks if you read allat,, idk why you would but that’s anyways I guess😭😭😭

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[ccrisntok]

bonus shitty ace doodle i did in ms paint like ages ago:

and horse

Danganronpa gay time (happy pride month)

Edit: a few of these are canonically wrong now, but these were made before any characters other than Whit (and kinda Eden) had cannon sexualities.

(ok so. this is technically a 1/2 repost bc I posted half of these images a few days ago, but i deleted the post bc i forgot tags and thought it was kinda dumb to split up the pics so. lets all hope this one goes better. Thats also why the styles a little inconstient, bc I made half of these two weeks ago and half of these yesterday.) (also Teruko was drawn was before everyone else, and in a different context, so that's why she looks so different lol.)

I am here to present to the drdt tumblr fandom: me and my friend's humble queer hcs for the drdt cast, with a few cannon exceptions. lots of bisexuals. bc i am bisexual. wild.

These took me longer to draw than you'd think. i hope you enjoy them <3

...so i didnt realize that after you put images into a post you cant move text on top of them so. and i don't wanna transfer all of the images below this so. this feels out of order. bc it is. I'm very new to tumblr can you tell.

also if anyone wants to use these as pfps i give full permission, just credit me. somewhere. and tell me you did it so i can see it and be happy :) anyway time for enough tags to give me a stroke

[robosanz]

ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴇ

"𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱, 𝔪𝔶 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣." - 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫

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pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

summary: anything you draw/write on your own skin appears on your soulmate's. what happens when you need to cheat on your chemistry exam, and these formulas suddenly appear on Kuroo's arms who has to take the same test?

word count: 3,099

note: this is my first time posting something on tumblr and i'm still not completely sure how tumblr works, hehe. usually i post on ao3 and wattpad (under the same name) but i wanted to try it out here as well. I hope you like this oneshot :)

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“Are you ready for our chemistry test?”

Your best friend’s question made you stop in your tracks in the crowded hallway. A few students walked into you, complaining about you not moving and holding them up. You, however, had other concerns; the chemistry test had completely slipped your mind, despite it being the biggest test with every 3rd year having to take it. With wide eyes you looked at your friend and grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

A sheepish smile grew on his lips, his warm brown eyes not looking at you. “I forgot to tell you,” he admitted with a shy chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. He knew how you were but he had been busy and forgot to remind you. 

You clasped your hands over your face. “Hayate, what am I gonna do now?!” You always had problems remembering important things concerning school, mostly because you didn’t care that much about school. However, you still managed to get good grades and that’s why you kept not being bothered by it too much.

“Hey, you’ll manage,” Hayate said with a warm smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You somehow always do,” he mumbled. He was just as clueless as you about how you managed to get good grades. 

You took a breath and nodded. “Yeah you’re right,” you said and rolled up your sleeves, eying your inner arm. Hayate raised an eyebrow while you tried to estimate how much stuff you could fit on them. Chemistry was one of your strongest subjects so you only needed to write down specific details that were new to you. Looking up with a smile, you nodded. “You know, I guess I’ll really manage.”

Hayate shook his head with a smile. “Your soulmate must think you’re some loser.” 

You gasped and put a hand on your chest. “Excuse me, I’m actually a genius if it wasn’t for my laziness.”

Hayate chuckled and ruffled your head lovingly. “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that. But they sure must think you’re always cheating in school because you’re stupid.” 

You pouted and crossed your arms. It was still true what Hayate said - if school stuff would appear on your arms like that you would think exactly that. But your soulmate has never written something on their arm or anywhere else before. It was mostly you who wrote on your arm; mostly for cheating on tests. “Well, they could also write something on their arm for once.”

Hayate shrugged. “Maybe they’ll finally freak out about this much advanced chemistry and write something back.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t want them to write anything,” you huffed, making Hayate chuckle. It was quite strange that you still hadn’t heard anything from your soulmate. Normally, people would go crazy to find out more about them and most of the people already found them by the age of 16. You were now 18 and had never even written a word with them. You weren’t too obsessed with finding them and they seemed to feel the same way about it.

Hayate had also found his soulmate about a year ago. She was a sweet and kind girl in your year. You got along with her a lot and she even became one of your best friends in a year. You were happy for your best friend and even if he teased you about possibly not having a soulmate, you didn’t make the effort to find them in order to prove him wrong.

The bell snapped you out of your thoughts and you gasped. “Shit, I’ll be back in five minutes,” you called out to Hayate before running down the hall towards the lady’s restroom. You needed to scribble down a few things on your arm before the exam. The brown-haired boy chuckled and shook his head before making his way to class.

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Kuroo was bouncing his knee up and down while waiting for the teacher to enter. The tense atmosphere in the classroom only contributed to his nervousness. It was unusually silent, only the clock’s ticking echoed through the room full of students. 

The upcoming test was taking a toll on everyone, and despite being one of Kuroo’s favourite subjects, the chemistry test was making him nervous as well. And when he noticed black lines appearing on his arms, he tensed even more; especially when the lines formed into exactly the chemistry formulas and definitions he needed for the test. He read the things appearing on both of his arms briefly before rolling down his sleeves with shaky hands and a quickly beating heart. He didn’t want to fail the test just because his soulmate decided to go crazy about chemistry. What the fuck? 

This was not the first time things about school subjects appeared on his arms. At first he thought that his soulmate was cheating themselves through their exams but somehow it didn’t make sense that they only wrote down a few specific things and not everything. Kuroo shook his head and the teacher came into the room.

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A sigh left your lips when the exam was over. You didn’t get caught cheating and the notes on your arms even helped you with some answers. You packed all your things and left the classroom where Hayate was already waiting for you. When you saw him, a grin grew on your face. “I completely nailed it.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, “yeah, but only because you cheated.” 

“I didn’t completely cheat,” you said and crossed your arms. He raised an eyebrow, making you glare at him with narrowed eyes. You two had a staring contest until someone bumped into your shoulder. You snapped your head over to the person only to see the school’s volleyball captain. You huffed and looked away from his retreating figure. Everyone at school knew Kuroo; he was one of the popular boys everyone swooned over. You looked at Hayate, “your captain is rude.” He didn’t even apologise for bumping into you.

Hayata smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes. “He’s actually pretty nice,” he said, making you roll your eyes. “You know, everyone is kinda waiting for him to find his soulmate. The girls are freaking out over him.”

You only hummed, not really interested in the whole Kuroo situation. You had other things to think about. The girls who were obsessed over him were stupid in your eyes; there were more important things to think about. Turning to your best friend you shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at practice.” He nodded and ruffled your hair before you went separate ways. 

At home, you spent the rest of the day doing nothing in particular and when you stepped out of the shower, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Tightening the towel around you, you gawked at your arm.

'I have no idea why you’re suddenly a chemistry freak, but for once your scribbling helped me in an exam today.'

“Oh my god,” you mumbled and tightly shut your eyes, cringing at all the things you have written on your arm before. “My soulmate really thinks I’m stupid.” A part of you had secretly hoped that Hayate was right and you were one of the rare cases that didn't have a soulmate. 

Quickly putting on your pyjamas, you took a pen and sat on your bed. You tapped the pen against your chin while looking at the first ever message you received from your soulmate. “What am I doing?” You shook your head and were about to put the pen away and roll down your sleeve when another message appeared. 

'You’re not gonna tell me what you needed the notes for?'

“Screw it,” you mumbled and opened the pen’s lid with your mouth before writing down something on your arm as well. 

'I had a chemistry exam as well.'

You raised your eyebrows at the coincidence. How were the chances that you and them both had a chemistry exam on the same topics? With knitted eyebrows you watched new words appear on your skin. Could it be that we are in the same school?

'What a coincidence. So you normally cheat on your tests?'

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, considering not to answer anymore. Whoever that was seemed smug and you didn’t want to keep talking to them. Pressing your lips together, you glanced at your arm briefly. A groan escaped your lips before you scribbled on your arm. 

'I normally don’t cheat, I tend to forget a lot of my exams so I only need a bit of help.'

A few minutes passed and you were still staring at your arm, waiting for an answer. But nothing came. “Whatever,” you mumbled and rolled your eyes before laying down. You closed your eyes but let out a sigh before you angrily peeked at your arm one last time. A smile crept on your face when you read the words. 

'You still helped me today, thanks. Good night :)'

Scribbling down a good night as well, you went to sleep with a small smile on your face. Maybe they’re not that bad.

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“Your soulmate really did write to you?” Hayate’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed you nodding your head. A sudden knowing smirk crept on his face, making you knit your eyebrows. “This is fucking amazing,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Oi,” you slapped his arm, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He hid something from you and being the noisy person you were, you wanted to know on the spot. And the smug smirk didn’t mean anything good. Hayate only shrugged and whistled before going to class. With narrowed eyes you followed him to the classroom; for the rest of the day you didn’t get out of him what he was smirking about. 

“You’re not gonna tell me?” You crossed your arms when you both stood in front of the school building after classes. He didn’t have practice today, so you walked home together. 

Hayate smirked. “If you really want to know,” he shrugged and glanced at you with an amused expression, “Kuroo wants to find his soulmate now.”

You sweatdropped and slapped the back of his head. “Idiot, and I thought it was something important.”

He chuckled and stepped away from you. “That’s kinda important, and I know exactly who it is.” A wide smirk crept on his lips when your wide eyes snapped over to him in surprise. “I saw something written on his arm yesterday and coincidentally I saw the exact thing on someone else’s arm as well.”

“No way!” You grabbed his arm looking up at his face. “Tell me.”

Hayate pushed you away from him before walking ahead, shaking his head. “I thought you weren’t interested in him.” He laughed internally. If you only knew.

“You’re right,” you said and jogged up to your best friend, “I don’t care.” Grabbing your backpack’s straps, you bit your lip. You really wanted to know who it was and Hayate knew it. You glanced at him. “It’s Kenma, isn’t it?” It wouldn't surprise you even a bit if it was the quiet setter. You had always thought that they were too much of best friends and partners to not be soulmates.

“I won’t tell you, but maybe he’ll tell you.”

“Idiot,” you grumbled, “why should he tell me?”

Hayate only shrugged, sending you an innocent grin and a shrug. You huffed and crossed your arms, oblivious to all the hints your best friend already gave you. Just yesterday, Hayate had seen both of Kuroo’s arms in the boy’s changing room. And they were full of the notes you had taken a few minutes prior to the exam. Hayate was glad that it was someone like Kuroo that was your soulmate. The both of you were quite similar; you were good at school, mostly introverted and both of you were calm and collected people - at least if Yaku didn’t trigger Kuroo.

“You really won’t tell me, will you?” You stopped in front of your front yard and pouted slightly. 

Hayate shook his head with a fond smile, happy that his friend would soon grow up. “Get some sleep, I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a great day.” He patted your head before walking to his house, leaving you standing there with crossed arms. 

With knitted eyebrows you looked after him until he was out of your sight. Heaving a sigh, you got into your house and immediately went into your room to take a nap. However, a message on your arm made you stop. With knitted eyebrows and a small blush you sat on your bed.

'I want to know more about you. Are you free?'

You gulped and took a pen. 

'Yes I am.'

While waiting for the answer, you quickly changed into something comfortable and got under the covers, taking a pen with you. You opened your laptop to watch a movie when new lines appeared on your arm.

'Nice, you can text me. xxx xxxx xxx'

You froze, not believing they gave you their number just like this. They may be your soulmate, but you still hesitated before saving their number on your phone. For all you knew, they could’ve just given you a random number.

Biting your lip, your fingers slowly typed hi before lingering over the send button. Shutting your eyes tightly you pressed send. When your phone vibrated, you peeked one eye open and looked at the text.

'I almost thought you wouldn't text me.'

You rolled your eyes with a small smile.

'I almost didn't but whatever.'

The both of you texted for a while and you found out that his name was Tetsuroo and he was also in 3rd year high school and even in Tokyo. He liked chemistry and was therefore interested in you after he saw all the notes. If you hadn't written all these things on your arm, he probably wouldn't have contacted you. But before you could manage to find out more about him, he ended the conversation, saying he still had something to do.

With a sigh you laid down, covering yourself with your blanket completely. "He's not that bad," you mumbled with a small smile before letting sleep take over. 

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You huffed and put your chin on your palm while the teacher was going on and on about maths. You were good in the subject and already knew all of that, boring you to death. Beside you, Hayate was busy taking notes while you looked out of the window, not paying any attention. 

When something appeared on your palm, you felt your heart skip a beat and waited for him to complete his sentence with a small smile.

'Hi, I’m bored out of my mind right now.'

You resisted the urge to giggle and took a pen to tell him that you’re in the same position as him and that maths was killing you.

'Well, we could continue our conversation from yesterday.'

You nodded to yourself already knowing which question you wanted to ask next. After all, you wanted to know roughly in which area he was living in.

'Which school do you go to?'

He didn’t take long to answer and when he did, your heart threatened to stop right there and then. Staring at the words nekoma high school with wide eyes, you sat up straighter. Immediately, you looked around the classroom, trying to find someone who was looking or writing on his palm. When you found no one you turned back to your own palm. 

'Which class are you in?'

Your heart dropped and you jumped off your seat, scaring everyone in the room with the loud scraping sound of your chair. The teacher sent you a glare to which you quickly bowed and excused yourself. Avoiding Hayate’s questioning look, you rushed out of the classroom. 

“What the fuck?” you said to yourself, leaning against the wall beside the classroom before pressing your palm on your forehead. You only knew one person in this class that was called Tetsuro and that was Kuroo.

“You don’t seem to be too happy about me.” 

You looked up when his deep voice reached your ears. Kuroo stood in front of you with one hand in his pocket and a small smirk on his handsome face. Pushing yourself off the wall, you cleared your throat quickly. “I don’t know what you mean,” you trailed off, not looking at him.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he nodded to himself. “Lucky me, I got a really charming soulmate.”

“Hey, I can be charming,” you quickly defended yourself, making him laugh. Heat rose to your face and you huffed, crossing your arms. However, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. At least, a decent person was your assigned soulmate and not someone you couldn’t stand or was absolutely disgusting in character. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile crept on your lips at the realisation.

“You sure are a cutie.” Kuroo patted your head, making your face beet red. You swatted his hand away from your head, your smile falling quickly. “Well, since we found each other, I wanted to ask if you’re free on Saturday.”

Taking a breath, you slowly nodded. It would make no sense to reject the boy now. Why not give it a try. It can’t be that bad.

Kuroo smiled and nodded but before he could add something, Hayate put his arms around your and Kuroo’s shoulder, pulling you two closer to him. “Finally, you two found each other,” he grinned, “and here I thought you two oblivious people would take weeks to find each other.”

You pulled out of the group hug and slapped the back of Hayate’s head. “You knew and you didn’t tell me, idiot.”

He rubbed the spot you had hit and chuckled innocently. “Then it wouldn’t have been fun for me,” he admitted and shrugged, earning a glare from you. He smirked and looked between you and his captain, “but you already have a date.”

“No,” you quickly said, knowing exactly what your best friend was thinking, “you’re not coming as well.” Turning to Kuroo, you narrowed your eyes at the taller boy. “Don’t tell him where we’re going or he’ll deadass come.”

Kuroo chuckled and nodded while Hayate let out an offended cry and dramatically fell on his knees, clasping his chest. “The betrayal!”

With a blush you grabbed Kuroo’s arm, and dragged him away from the scene your best friend was causing. “If anyone asks, we don’t know him.”

[carpedzem]

questionnaire results that i didnt forget about at all

im okay so i forgot and then forgot again a few times. ANYWAY. enjoy the results!!

i cant post every written answer, so heres my favourite :)

whats your favourite animal, be as specific as possible

Peregrine Falcon

domestic cat! specifically MY cats but any cat will do

your mom

Black bear. One tried to walk into my house recently and he was really cute but I had to tell him no :( (ARE YOU OK?)

Dumbo octopus

fancy rats

honestly i’ve always been too scared to settle on one animal as a favorite, because it feels like a question with no satisfying answer. like if i had to be honest it’s probably dogs? because i’ve grown up around them, they’re an animal i like beyond just aesthetic purposes. but when you hear this sort of question, you wonder if the asker wants to hear about something exotic, some random interest that caught the interviewees eye at a young age and never left their conscious. anyways i think it’s probably house cats

rainbow trout, luzon-bleeding hearts, and horses.. dogs too

emperor penguin

any type of liddol snake. I love them so

sea sheep

Long eared Jerboa

(most people chose cat)

george (42,5%)

second place with also a lot of votes (37%)

sapnap (45,7%)

dream (44,1%)

this is my favourite question and i cant believe i misspelled it

you can put two of your mutuals against each other in a fight. who do you chose

i can’t answer this they all hate one another it’s too real. bellaya (bellaya was the most popular answer)

Lost and Kiuda. There can only be one (one of what)

Can I just give loyal a nice spa day? I'd like to give loyal a nice spa day

violence is never the answer

🤦🏻‍♂️🤣

i would fight them all myself obviously

I fear that no matter who I put here they'd just give up and make out instead

I only have two moots I joined tumblr a day ago help (i wonder how this person likes it here so far)

Nunki "demonstars" vs Nov "sueñitos" for La Velada 2024

no fighting…. sharika shakira

Gogciety v powergnf battle of the golos

im giving you a gun with only one bullet. what do you do (vent section) (while a lot of answers made me laugh a lot im gonna skip ones that can get us in trouble LMAO. but remember you made ME laugh)

Listen would killing q give us usmp back? No. Would it make me feel SO MUCH BETTER??????? YES!!!!!! (i mean obv q took like half of the shots. the other popular answer was just lining everyone)

I give it to Sapnap. He has made it clear he will kill for Dream god bless

am i given a time machine? can i shoot someone already dead? does it have to be someone reasonably killable? the answer to these questions is irrelevant because no matter what i want it to be steve jobs.

shoot at internet cable

going to british land and the first dumbass cc i see gets it

use it to open a jar because my hands are very weak and im too embarrassed to ask anyone else to open it for me

only one :(?

Lay it carefully on the ground.

hand it to George he could judge more fairly than I (and hope he doesn't shoot Sapnap)

i send the gun and bullet to the dteam house as a secret gift with a note explaining that it's for sapnap and george only, and a letter stating to pass extras to the rest of the munchy squd. if we all donate our weapons to them, they'll be able to shoot all of dream's haters. the only obstacle is dream himself, which is why he can't know what's in the box.

Give it to gnf&sapnap and watch them fight over it

(IM SORRY I FORGOR....)

top drolo 2023 - ones i forgot about

punz

hannah

puffy

bbh

squidkid

Radio statio guy

SYLVEEYYYY

illumina

me. sorryyr i dont mean that

you (im soo not BUT THANK YOU)

I think all munchies deserve this spot, theyre all the best drolos :(( i love them

powergpu guy (jesse)

george deserves it tbh for slut smp (that is true, but i excluded snf bc i was afraid they will sweep...)

shadoune

LARRAY

Lil nas X

THATS ALL. thank you everyone who took part in this AND ONCE AGAIN IM SORRY I FORGOT ABOUT IT.... ill be better next time o7

[dontforgetyourmedstoday]

So you just steal artwork and don't care? Got it. Either that or my ask asking about sources from your posts on April 8th disappeared. Or I guess you could be off tumblr and not have been here for two weeks.

Hi Anon,

I'm assuming this is you:

If it is, yes, I did see your last ask - but life has been a bit shit lately and frankly, I didn't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with an accusatory email that gave me absolutely no details about what you were upset about so I could investigate. So today, despite it being an incredibly long and shit one that isn't over I'm going to reply.

*Takes a deep breath* From this point forward I'm going to assume that, like me, you are just a real-live human with feelings that get hurt and not someone who just likes to yell at people on the internet. So let me apologise that I have used your artwork without attribution, it was in no way my intention. Please take this apology as someone who was just trying to amuse themselves and perhaps help some other people out by reminding them to take their meds too. I absolutely suck at art-type things so in my mind, no one would think I did them or was claiming the actual 'art' part of them as mine. I realise now this is the internet, you guys don't know me, and so I should have been clearer that nearly all of these are edits. (There are a few waaaaay back I actually drew myself). Looking at the 7th, 8th & 9th of April (allowing for time zones and assuming that's when you saw your artwork). All of them except one have a link at the bottom of the image that links back to where I sourced the original image - I don't know if this is visible on mobile so I'll show it below (the bit circled in red)

So I'm assuming this one is yours:

It seems that one doesn't have the link. I don't know why. I haven't made any new reminders for this blog in ages (again - life) - it seems like most of the ones from early April this year were originally posted back in 2021. I got briefly excited about this blog again a few months ago and loaded up a bunch of old ones so this blog was still functional for the people that find it helpful. Going back I have noticed that others seem to not have credit either. It is possible I made a mistake and forgot to add them. It's also possible that Tumblr has a had a glitch/error/weirdness which means it's disappeared. I also used a bunch of images from the editing app I was using to add the reminder message and I wish I could remember what the site was called because I cannot for the life of me remember. Honestly, who knows. I have deleted the post(s) with that image - if it's not the right one please let me know.

I have always gone out of my way to ensure that anything I use is either free use, or non-commercial under Creative Commons. As an aside, I'm an academic and a person who has artist friends and my partner runs a business where our customers are largely designers and artists, so I do actually do my best to give credit. Am I perfect - no I'm not. Part of the reason I stopped making new posts was because of difficulty giving credit even on images that were non-attribution and finding images where I knew what the attribution requirements were (along with trying to remember everything everyone asked me to tag, and doing the image descriptions etc.) If anyone else finds something of theirs in one of my posts and there isn't credit attached please either dm me or send an ask and let me know which post and how you would like to be credited and I'll add it in. If you want it removed, I'm happy to do that too.

Sorry for the long post, hope it helps to clear things up. Finally, let me take this opportunity to say

"Don't forget your meds today my friends"

[melyzard]

(different anon going off of prev) I really hope you find the motivation to finish your wip, your r1 fics are the reason I joined fandom/tumblr in the first place all the way back in 2017 and your work (esp the stardust in your spine series) are still my absolute favorite fics I've ever read you write rebelcaptain so perfectly <3333

Thanks! I actually already have the next chapter written, just need to proofread, and the final chapter is halfway done. I had to map this one out ages ago, since I made the heist/spy mission so complex. And now I'm....uh....four years out from my last posted chapter. So, yeah, I need to be careful not to turn the whole ending into an incoherent mess because I forgot what I was doing with some of this.

But it will be done, and who knows, maybe I'll start writing again in general. It would be nice to have that drive again.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies with fandom stuff, then a couple of twst replies.

irregardlessly-tish asked:

A friend message me "YOU FOLLOW THE LEVI X GRISHA PERSON" and I had no clue what they were talking about but then they showed me the two pictures you drew of Levi and Grisha lol. It made me laugh a lot. Then I helped them found the uncensor version of one of the drawings in your pixiv since the link to twitter seem to be broken (I'm a great friend I know/j). I guess you could say they are big fans of your rarepair work!

LEVI X GRISHA PERSON AAAHH 😭 It’s always so funny to learn how people are referring to us; I was the Zevi artist, the Shroudcest artist… For some reason, being a Guriri (wow Grisha’s and Levi’s shipname is cute, I completely forgot about it) artist feels like such a high honour lol Especially because I had no idea there was someone out there invested in this ship. Your friend’s taste is excellent. A huge thank you to them for enjoying our stuff, and a huge thank you to you for helping to find the uncensored version. You really are a great friend hehe.

It’s honestly a shame that even the pixiv version is still censored (albeit not cropped like the tumblr version), because you can’t really post uncensored stuff there… So now only a few people who had saved our snk smut back when it was posted on our now-deleted twitter have it :(

(it’s a bit embarrassing looking back at those sketches and seeing all the mistakes though, yikes)

Anonymous asked:

I want to shake antis by the shoulders and scream at them all the time cause I see them being sooo unhealthy with themselves, and I've BEEN there I know what they are doing and I know it is just going to get them hurt with the same train wreck I got myself in!!

It's the whole problem with black and white thinking where you go "people treat incest shippers like satan himself, so I cannot accidentally enjoy it or I would be evil incarnate too, and adopted/step is the same thing, so I cannot accidentally like that, and found family is basically the same as adopted, so I have to avoid that, and character A called character B his bro one time, so..." that thinking pattern does not have a stopping point!!!!!! It is so unhealthy!!!!!!!!

And then people realize they can't stop themselves from enjoying unhealthy ships, and instead of separating fiction from reality, they just excuse everything abusive about the ship like it is fine and normal behavior because they cannot accept themselves enjoying something that is remotely problematic. It is so much more likely to get people hurt than just enjoying the porn of some fake brothers fucking 😭

Anon! First of all, sorry for replying late; we received your ask about a week ago but I didn’t have enough time to properly address it. Second of all, thank you for talking about it and sharing your experience.

It’s just like you said; people really don’t want to get ridiculed or hated, especially younger people, therefore, they are afraid of liking stuff that is even slightly problematic. And for some of them, if they don’t want their so-called friends to suspect them loving problematic stuff, they’ll act even more aggressive than they should to overcompensate. I feel like when it comes to antis who talk about us specifically, the most vocal and persistent ones are those whose friends called them out for following my accounts or liking my drawings. And this is honestly both sad and pathetic at the same time; I cannot imagine how bad of a headspace this might be. I don’t pity them though lol

We always talk about it, but still: this is a game you can’t win because the rules are always changing. The only thing that never changes is that there is no nuance, once the crowd decide that the ship is bad, it’s bad. Starting out with the basics, age gaps and incest are bad, right? Right. But what if the characters aren’t canonically related but could be interpreted as brothers? Then it’s still bad, right? But what if they aren’t at all brotherly, but one of them expressed that they want to do bad things to the other? Sounds bad, right? And thus, the only type of dynamic that exists is a romanticised version of a perfect gay couple: they are equal in every way, they love each other, they are SUCH DORKS together who fit perfectly to any “redraw this as your ship” meme that’s the hottest thing these days, they don’t have arguments, they don’t have misunderstanding and rough moments. Their personalities, everything that made their relationship unique or interesting completely disappears and smoothes out, and after that it’s not even a ship, it’s just a nice blend that is perfect for consumption because it doesn’t irritate your teeth, your throat, or your stomach. It’s tasteless, it’s boring, it’s nothing, and it’s not about the characters, it’s about deciding which two characters are unproblematic enough to be transformed into blorbos, and if they have some problematic elements in-canon, it’s okay, we’ll just erase those because being unproblematic doesn’t really matter. What matters is to act in a way that doesn’t go against what the rest of them are doing, because otherwise you’re making people uncomfortable, and if they are uncomfortable with you, they feel morally correct for attacking you.

It’s never about characters. It’s always about control, about cliques, about bullying and making everyone afraid to have an actual opinion. It’s about instilling in people’s mind that attacking strangers on the internet makes you a cool person because you are simultaneously a rebel for being so ballsy and brave, and a saint for having moral standards so high that you can’t stomach bad things even if they are fictional.

Sometimes people just have different ships and that’s okay. Sometimes people don’t have any ships and don’t understand the shipping culture, and that���s okay. What’s not okay is to feel entitled to this control over the way others consume media and interact with it.

Because it makes the fandom experience boring at best and unbearable at worst.

Sorry, I digress lol What I wanted to say is that you are right, it messes with people’s brains. And it is much more unhealthy than fantasising about the things that are 100% fictional (which is, by the way, a huge part of their appeal).

Anonymous asked:

just wanted to say I love your content a lot, it's a breath of fresh air from all the anti content present in the fandom

You are very welcome, Anon! And thank you so much for your support <3 It means a lot to hear that our stuff is refreshing to you.

Anonymous asked:

Is Lilia sneezing on people on purpose, or is it a sneeze button for him?

(this is related to this post)

We’ll never know, Anon, it’s one of Lilia’s many mysteries…

Maybe it started out as a joke, but then he really began to sneeze on people every time his nose gets booped lol

Anonymous asked:

Where can I see the art for the new Shaftlands event?

I don’t think all of them are fully out yet, but people are pretty active on twitter, so simply looking up characters’ names is probably going to work!

Anonymous asked:

…Quick, someone bully Idia into sending nudes.

And be quick about it because Idia could also quickly change his mind and hack the recipient’s phone to delete the pictures!!

[softpine]

@bb-enablefreebuild LITERALLYYYYYYY i even have this exact image saved in my asa & finn web weaving folder jfksjds it's so them, even the hands 😭

@forgotten-pixels oh yeah he definitely has a wikipedia page!! his first single was a pretty big hit and even though his other work hasn't been as mainstream, he's contributed to a bunch of other artists' work so he's still well known in certain circles. i also think he's JUST famous enough to get those weird AI generated articles written about him, like "remember the guy who sang [song title from 15 years ago]? this is him now!!" because he's not well known enough for people to realize it's false / clickbait lmao. (btw you never have to apologize for asking questions!! i love them at any time 🥺)

asa has a regular phone but he may as well not have one at all because he quite literally never charges it or brings it anywhere fjkjsds stevie is the one who's always switching out her phone case & never gets around to putting a screen protector on so her screen is definitely cracked, i think elaine probably loses her phone the most on accident, and jada will say she lost her phone even when it's ringing in her hand because she just doesn't want to answer. if we still had texting limits stevie would use that shit up in half an hour, if that!!

his intentions were good...... his execution however..... leaves a lot to be desired

i'm so sorry my brain cannot even think about april fools right now without the dan and phil brainrot fully taking over 😭😭😭 no other pranks exist in my brain at the moment i can't even think of any sjksjd i could definitely see mikaela & danny pranking each other though

HELPPP this is so funny but i'm gonna have to say casper, there is no way he knows what that is

thank you for the idea!! i'm trying to avoid sending people a patreon link for written work; even if it's free (and it would be), there's still a connotation that it would cost money and i'm afraid no one would even click the link to read it (plus i've already used my patreon for cc so i'm afraid i would annoy the people who followed me for that content). ughhhh but thank you for trying :(

i'm really bummed about substack because it looked like the easiest way to accomplish what i want to accomplish but i'm sure i'll find something eventually. thanks for the interest 🥺

i would love to, but tumblr has a 30 pic limit and also i need to cut myself off at some point because otherwise i could literally spend months on 1 single post lmao 😭

you were right :P :P

i forgot about that too!! iirc wasn't it just dependent on the number of sims you have & their ages? asa bounces between caroline's and danny's houses so he would change the difficulty, but the mayfields would always have the highest rating because they also have sadie & the farm animals to take care of!

yes definitely!! just please credit the original mesh creator if applicable (i always list them) 💝

i forgot to answer this when you sent it, but i did read it right away and it made me smile, so thank you 💖💖

it really is the most attractive trait a person can have to me fjkjsds did you ever hear from that guy btw?? 💕

THANK YOUUU kisses you back one thousand times 💖💖💖

@minamill ILYYY 💞

@morrigan-sims thank you!!!! 🥺

[welcometogrouchland]

FIFTH times the charm, I guess

Okay, so, preface: I made some posts about this a while ago, forgot to expand, got an anon about it earlier, proceeded to try and answer the ask upwards of 3 times only for the Tumblr to eat the response. I've had A Time. So, I'm gonna try and keep this as short and sweet as I can while still being semi-comprehensive and making sense!

People have pointed out that based on the photo below (showing the remains of the grimwalkers in the Golden Graveyard™ as i call it) and the timeline we're given (350~ years), there's no way Belos could've raised all of them to maturity.

[ID: A screenshot from king's tide showing the remains of the grimwalkers and their golden guard masks. End ID]

The Golden Guards are also generally there to be useful to Belos, so I think it's unlikely he's killing all of them before they get the chance to. so, maybe they just age quick!

BUT I don't think it'd make sense, at this point in the story, to reveal in or outside the text that Hunter is going to age rapidly and die decades before all his loved ones. It's never been foreshadowed, wouldn't make sense story wise, and would just be A Bit Much imo.

Hence, I'd like to propose a radical solution, in the form...of horse math

[ID: a chart titled horse years to human years. The chart says that 1 horse year is equivalent to 6.5 human years, so is 2, 3=18, 4=20.5, 5=23, 6=25.5, 7=28, 8=30.5, 9=33, 10=35.5, 11=38, and 12=40.5. End ID]

I'm not gonna pretend to know much about horses. I don't. BUT, I did discover that unlike, say, dogs where 1 human year is 7 dog years, there isn't a fixed equivalent between horse years and human years! It shifts over time. The chart explains it better than I could. So, my proposal is thus: grimwalkers age like horses in the sense that they begin life with a different aging rate compared to regular witches, but this changes as they get older, presumably evening out to be about the same as a normal witches (I imagine they probably speed through childhood cause Belos is not raising a bunch of gross babies for multiple years on his own lmao). This handily solves both problems, while also being hilarious, because by this logic, i can say that THIS:

[ID: a screencap of hunter without his mask on taken from hunting palismen. end ID]

IS A HORSE