#pointer brand

[fisheito]

alright. 👓 what we got for this weird little step up banner. Why did they have SR yaku and oli on the promo pic?? And what does it have to do with eiden's huey decision???? No matter... let's see if there's anything i'd like to pull for...

& opens updated game &

The only SSRs aster and morv have? . Already have morv, and he's full unlocked. I wouldn't MIND an aster if only to see him slap morv around. but it's not enough to motivate me to throw my contracts... ohhh if only there were a tiny aster SSR.... i want that lil guy fuckin things up...

Ocean breeze yakumo- WAIT, IDOL YAKUMO? THE WETTEST, (arguably) MOST PATHETIC WHIMPERER OF THE YAKUMOS? the yakumo that i did not want during his original run because i wanted nothing to do with him and thus i never Obtained him? YOU're saying i could finally have a soggy beach tankini yakumo in my collection, to manipulate voice lines at will, to replay whatever sad Single Line of Sad Whines he lets out in R2----- THAT YAKUMO? well now i have to read up on the terms and conditions of this banner

[interlude: reading and some judgemental squinting]

They said guaranteed SSR within 70 pulls...BUT IT SEEMS LIKE YOU CAN ONLY CHOOSE THE SSR AT 300? idk bro that seems like a lot to sacrifice for a rerun... what else have we got to work with here

Chocolate fiend retail edmond- does not measure up to white wedding edmond. i remain uninterested

Mother Nature oli- tEMPTING, OK, THE ONE I'VE WANTED SINCE I STARTED PLAYING, , but he probably isn't a great unit like most of the older units BUT MY DEAREST MATRON OF LIFE FLORAL HUNTER OLI..........THE NOSTALGIA HITS HARD

Ropeflinger quincy- no interest

Period cramps kuya- no interest

Loincloth gapmaster garu- tbh i'd be pissed if i got this one because i already have him at 3 stars and if i get just. one single extra of this. that's not enough to ascend himn. it's nto enough to do ANYTHING. either give me plentiful puppy or NONE AT ALL!!!!

Idol apprentice blade- hol up isn't this the blade with that riduclousoly beautiful eiden sprawed alcross the bed that makes you wanna go RRRRRRRHBWRUFFRRAWFBARKRBARKBRAKRKBABRBARK???? ok ok, serious contender,,,, it never hurts to have more blade rooms

Icy equilibrium dante- ?!?! isn't this the one where dante is an absolute loser for eiden and they're so painfully vanilla and sweet that you want to projectile vomit all over the foggy glass? hm. i could use some more bullying dante for his feeligns. yeah, sure , why not

Truth seeker rei- waitwaitwait isn't this another one of rei's lore-important units? the one that dishes out his saian shenanigans, AND sticks him in a locker (where he magically manages to remove his pants but stil retain his powerrfully high goth boots)? hm. also don't remember him being a particular useful unit , but. "cunty boots stay on during sex" rooms are still a delight every time. alright. consider me interested. a bit.

SR yaku- got im SR oli- got im SR quincy- got im

SR kuya- YOU!!!!!!!!!! the AACCCURSED SR that pops up in zerophos' guides, who is weirdly OP and i canNOT COMPLETE THE STAGES BECAUSE I DO NOT HAVE YOU. you supposed "low-rarity-tier" unit with your unfair trigger? skills??? now i BET you would be mighty useful to have but that's just it, innit? the moment i might deign to lure you to my team, and you refuse me. you ignore me more than anyone else ever has in my life. you ignore me more than OG SSR Garu who, to this day, 3 years later, has not dared to look upon me. no. just for that, i'm going to say i'm not interested. get out of here peepaw. i don't need you to complete those freakishly specific challenge trial conditions.

VERDICT? i'm widdle--sorta--maybe interested in 6 of the 11 SSRs , which is not uhhhhhh optimal it's not like i'll come out of this a winner no matter the outcome Lookin 🔬 at these numbers, probably not worth it to me... maybe i'll throw a loose scroll at the banner if i give in to my impulse randomly

but with magical girl blade on the horizon? mm. gotta be smart with these gamblin' odds. may have to bunker down like the crocodile and play the waitin game...

[figurativesims]

okayyy dusting this blog off so i can post about my playthrough for the reapers rewards event because WHY not. i have a storyline forming in my head already, now i just need to figure out my visual direction for it

[watchilove]

Oris Big Crown Pointer Date Father Time Limited Edition

[gin-juice-tonic]

arbitrarily ive decided adult Dipper has Alpha-gal syndrome (when you become allergic to red meat and potentially other mammalian products after being bitten by certain kinds of ticks).

he got bit by a lone star tick on his first and so far only trip to new jersey

he's got epipens in his cargo pants pockets. Soos held a funeral for Dipper's ability to eat hot dogs. Stan cursed New Jersey for continuing to hurt his family after all this time. Wendy gave him some pointers from the 3 and a half months where she was vegan. Ford was very excited to inform Dipper that Nyums brand jelly beans do not contain gelatin. Mabel vowed to make mabel juice beef tallow free from this point forward. Dipper is unaffected by dairy but has always secretly wanted a reason to pursue nut-based milks, so he uses this as his chance.

He cried a little at the hot dog funeral. Stan also cried a little at the hot dog funeral.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

~

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

~

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

[stargirlo]

whatever she wants ♡.

your boyfie luvs spoiling you with his money! and he doesn't care if he maxes out his credit card just by spending money on the stuff that you want to buy. he just wants to see his pretty girl happy, that's all. his love language is gift giving, so why not show his love to you by showering you with designer bags and red bottoms?

you're always whining about how he shouldn't give you this many stuff, even if it wasn't a special occasion. but he insists, who is going to stop him?

need your nails done? check, appointment is already made. you're craving oysters? the reservation is booked. want to be on the highest floor of a five-star hotel in singapore? prepare for the breathtaking view baby. your birkin bag is getting old? the order is at your doorstep. need a new tiffany and co bracelet? get in the car and lets buy you a new one.

honestly he knows every clothing brand that you like because he has a list of your wants and needs. whenever you say something like "this sundress is cute." or "these tory burch sandals would go with this, yeah?" he would instantly take note of it and buy it for you the next day. this man is tiring, but you absolutely adore him. not because of his money, but because of the way he treats you.

he treats you with full on royalty, as if you were his queen, in which, you already are. so, you can't help but give him your thanks to him for doing all these things.

"f-fuck baby, is this your thanks f'me..?" he dryly chuckles, slenders fingers slipping through your well styled hair, to which it was ruined by how tight he's gripping your fucking scalp. ouchie.

you nodded eagerly, sucking him off like your life depended on it. moans vibrated against his cock, letting his body jolt in absolute pleasure. he threw his head back, letting you have your way on his cock as it snuggles deep down your warm and tight throat. he can't help but buck his hips upwards into your throat, a stifled moan bubbling through his gritted teeth. a sweat rolls down his forehead, eyebrows knit together as he looks down at the gorgeous view of you being between his legs and sucking his cock to oblivion.

"ye'r such a slut y'know t-that . . . shit-" he hissed in pleasure, inhaling sharply before letting out a groan. your thighs rubbed together, trying to reach out for some friction for yourself while you gave your precious boyfriend a blow job. he lets out a string of curses and praises, murmuring something about how he's going to ruin your pussy after this, and it only turned you on further, feeling a wet patch on your victoria secret thong.

suddenly, you withdrew from his cock, watching a thin string of spit connect from his cock and to your glossy lips. you looked up at him teary-eyed, your plump lips turning into a small "o" shape as you let out shallow breaths. "what's wrong baby? dick t'much to take down ye'r throat?" he mocks, looking down at you with a sneer. how mean.

" 's okay sugar, daddy's gotcha . . . now c'mere," he pants, his pointer and ring finger beckoning you to crawl up his lap, and so you did. as you got yourself situated and comfortable on his lap, his cock occasionally rubbing against your soaked panties that was desperate to be fucked like a useless glory hole. his hands move under your skirt, pulling down the thong away as it revealed your hungry pussy to his eyes. it was glistening with your slick, and he was definitely going to have a field day with this slip 'n slide.

"you're so wet f'me, and all jus' by suckin' my dick." he chuckles, gripping your hips firmly and lifting it up with a subtle movement, just enough to feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your puffy 'n needy clit. you let out a short gasp, taking a hold on his shoulders as you looked down at the lewd scenery below you. "aht, aht sugar . . . look at me," he gently slaps your ass, bringing back your attention to him and looking at him directly. he murmurs a low "thereee we go." before sliding you down his cock, a high-pitched yelp eliciting from your lips.

his cock slides in further, deeper and deeper until you feel his cock fill you up to the hilt. you're now basically cockdrunk, and he hasn't done anything to make you be in this position yet. you babbled how he's "too big" and that "you're full" but he could only watch in awe. "shh, shh, look how soaked your pussy is . . . look at how easy it just slides in, aand out." he huffs, moving your hips with ease as the base of his cock slips in and out of your pussy, erupting a lewd squelch.

"now c'mon baby, show me how really thankful you are f'me . . ." his hands now let go of your hips, making you fully sit down on his cock as your pussy warms it up. your lips tug a small pout, his hands being placed behind his head as he raised a brow. his expression already spoke volumes on what he was going to say, so you tried your best to lift up your shaky hips and thighs as you worked your way into riding his cock.

let's just say he had to do most of the work later on :(

💌: gojo satoru, geto suguru, hiromi higuruma, chuuya nakahara, haitani brothers, sanzu haruchiyo, manjiro sano, shuji hanma, wakasa imaushi, rafe cameron, ++ your favs!!

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 17

Remember when I said that ch 18 may take longer? Yeah, so I surprised myself- I thought the little fight sequence would kill me but I found a work around- kinda.

Here's ch 17, hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 17 >>next

“Wait- you and Superman were friends? Ok, no- let me back track. You know Clark is Superman?” You asked, sipping on your Tedi drink as you stopped looking over Luthor’s plans for a Mars station. “This won’t be of any use, by the way- Mars is already populated, has a mind control parasite problem, and the Martians are quick to execute people.” Lex just laughs.

“Yes, we were. Yes, I know. No, I won’t tell you, it’s a story for another time. And I’m working on finding a diplomat for a treaty and on something to fix that little problem. Now, how did you know Clark is Superman?” You just shrug. “Not like he’s wearing a mask. Sure, the posture difference and the unfitted suits he wears helps, but if you look close enough at Superman it’ll be hard not to connect him to someone. And his face is too soft to be Bruce Wayne.”

"And I saw Lois kiss him." Luthor’s amused cackle got cut short as the doors to his office opened, Slade Wilson strutting in as if he owned the place. “How did-“ Lex almost hisses at the man, but Slade waves him off. “Does it matter? I’m already here.” The man smirks as he hands you the garment bag he was carrying, taking a seat in the other armchair near Luthor’s desk while watching you critique the work on your suit. “Ha! This looks brand new, thanks- oh this reminded me.”

You get up, swinging the closed bag over your shoulder. “I have to cut our gossiping session short, I have to go rob a billionaire. Don’t kill each other.” You snatch the pointer from Luthor’s desk, slashing your nails through the air to open a portal. “And up your security Alex!” Lex just cringes at the name, grunting in displeasure.

Slade finally turns to look at the bald billionaire. “So? Have you thought about my offer?” Luthor sighs as he slums in his chair, eye twitching at the assassin’s question, his fingers tapping the armrest. Of course he has. “You are assuming she’ll just accept it like nothing.” Slade just raises an eyebrow. “I’ll take the blame, don’t worry.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, who's in?” You grin widely as Rex and Amanda immediately raise their hands, mischief glinting in their eyes. “Alright- hey, calm down- why do you even want to go rob Bruce Wayne? I know you hate the guy but aren’t you afraid of Batman?”  Black Samson intervenes, the others looking at the board you produced out of thin air with pictures depicting the Wayne manor and Bruce Wayne with some drawn red horns and goatee.

“Well- it’s not technically stealing. I’m just taking my childhood stuff back. Mainly plushies.” You shrug. “Childhood stuff? You lived there?” Dupli-Kate voices what others are thinking, getting a simple yes. “Don’t get fooled by his fake clumsy act, the man is cold. And he was a deadbeat to me.” You pointed Luthor’s pointer at the Immortal. “No, I will not elaborate on my parental issues, and-“ You moved to point at Rudy when he opened his mouth. “Magic. Well, more of a pocket dimension I already had the board in.” You shrug. “Still used magic to teleport it here.”

“Can we go already?” Rex's whines are quickly followed by Monster Girl’s voice. “Yeah, I want to check rob the rich off my bucket list. And to try those cookies you keep raving about!” Samson sighs as he gets up, arms crossing looking like a disappointed father. “I can’t in good conscience let you do that. Immortal, back me up, man.” But it took one look at your unimpressed face for the spineless man to fold. “Well, if he was such a terrible father-“

“That decides it then!” You smile brightly, grabbing the message board and throwing it back into the pocket dimension. You quickly grab Rex and Monster Girl and fly away, not giving anyone else the chance to argue. “Jesus, do we weight anything to you?” Amanda grabs tighter onto you. “Nope. It’s like holding a couple of grapes.”

Samson’s eyes move from your departing figure to the ancient man, disappointment shining through as he sighs and shakes his head before going back to the GDA computer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can’t believe we almost got caught by the billionaire.” Amanda giggles as she eats another chocolate chip cookie. “I can’t believe the butler almost caught us! These are so good-” Rex groans, moaning as he too stuffs another cookie in his mouth. “Alfred’s highly trained, actually. Even if we were invisible, he probably still felt our eyes on him.” You shrugged, dangling your feet over the edge of the building you three sat on.

“That Bruce guy… he seemed quite wrecked when he passed by your door.” At Amanda’s worried words, you just brush her off. “He’s probably worried about it ruining his image or something.” Rex’s brows furrow as he looks at you. “What about your mom? You’ve never talked about her before.”

“Nobody asked before. But seriously- compared to Debbie, hell, compared to Eve’s mom, mine was doing it more out of duty. I loved her, I still do. She was a better parent than Bruce, but she still had her faults. Now that I know what a mom is truly like, I feel like I was more of a doll she occasionally played with when she was bored of men and work.”

“Damn. First your mom, then Wayne, now Omni-Man- you can’t catch a break, can you?” Monster Girl joked, trying to lighten the mood. You laugh and groan, eyes fixated on the stars. “Twice is a coincidence, three times is a curse, eh?” Your small talk is interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a message from Mark only stating an address and to get there as fast as possible. “Well, the fun is over, I have to go. Let’s get you two home.” They both booed as they got up, making you laugh.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You anxiously sat in a seat as the alien was starting up his spaceship, giving a small smile and thumbs up as the Thraxan asked about your comfortability. “Yeah. Thanks… Hey, how long until we get to Thraxa?” Mark asks, seemingly just as nervous. “Approximately six of your earth days.”

“Wicked.” You muttered sarcastically, eyes meeting Mark’s. “We so should have talked to mom face to face.” The older sibling sighs. “I mean- you got that teleportation magic stuff, you could always just check in with her once we get there, right?” You give a noncommittal hum as you pout. “Still feels wrong. Like a trap.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tim Drake was staring at the video footage and audio recordings, playing the sound over and over again. “Can’t believe the fuckers went through my stuff.” Keeps on being repeated by the Sorceress as two others help her throw plushies and paintings through a Lazarus green portal. His eyes move to the clock. Four in the morning, and he has been awake for about a day. His eyes moved to the only picture they seemed to find of you, the one Alfred had ran around the house with, before his eyes moved back to your figure on the screen.

He puts the coffee mug on the table while he gets up, going straight into the elevator. He was hallucinating. He must be. You were a normal kid and he was tired, and in distress, he was seeing things, associating The Sorceress with his little sister because they were two unknowns. Yes. Definitely that and not because he was in denial. Granted, Tim was tired enough not to see another figure looming in the shadows. So, he wasn’t lying to himself fully.

By the next morning, everyone in the manor found out there was missing stuff from your old room, and while Tim was sure that he was awake then, he had no proof of anything he saw. No footage, no voice recordings, nothing. His eyes drifted to Damian’s seemingly annoyed but unbothered expression, rubbing at his eyes after the younger boy gave him a smirk. Damian’s face was as blank as ever. Tim decided to get more sleep. He has to be seeing shit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Nuolzot was trying to wake up your brother gently you just grabbed your pillow and whacked it across his face, making the young adult wake up screaming, fists raised ready for a fight. “We’re here sleeping beauty.” You snicker at his expression, moving in synch with him once he’s by your side, completely ignoring his mumbles.

When the door of the spacecraft opens you both flinch at the sound of the Thraxans exclaiming greetings and cheers. You both awkwardly waved. “Oh, don't mind them. Come. The monarch wants to meet you at once.” Mark and you simply follow the alien as you look around. “Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” The man asks only to be answered with confusion. “Meteors? What meteors?” You give Mark a look before turning back to Nuolzot, speaking with just as much confusion. “Uh- the ones that are supposedly killing billions?” This was definitely a trap.

“Oh, yeah, those meteors. You know, must be a touch of dementia.” The alien shrugs nervously. “We age much quicker than you humans, you know. Uh, don't worry, the monarch will explain all.” The Thraxan quickly ushers you two towards the staircase, nudging you to bow politely. “Your Majesty. May I present Invincible and Sorceress of Earth.”

You look at Mark with a face that clearly shows how tired you already are of this madness. But nonetheless, you kneel alongside your brother, only looking up when a familiar voice greets you both. As your eyes meet the monarch your brows furrow. “Oh, you mother-“

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams

[yerimbrit]

here's the mistletoe (so go on and kiss me twice) : p. hanni

synopsis: it's last minute christmas decorating with your friends, and, as always, anything and everything is an opportunity for you to tease your girlfriend.

# : pairing ! nonidol!pham hanni x fem!reader

# : tags ! fluff fluff and more fluff, would you like a side of fluff with your order of fluff? yeah?, christmas decorating, short jokes (directed at hanni wbk), ft newjeans

# : wordcount ! 1.5k

# : warnings ! none

for the first time ever in the two years that you've been living with each other, all members of your friend group are home for christmas. obviously, you guys want to make it special, right? decorating the moment it hits midnight on the first of the jolly month?

...except everyone's been busy with finals and whatnot, and the only day that all six of you are free is the 23rd. two days before christmas, and a day before christmas eve.

early this morning, minji and haerin went out to go buy a tree. and you'll give it to them, it's a damn pretty looking tree. it leaves just enough room to spare for the topper to breathe, and it's body is the ideal shape for a christmas tree—like the ones you'd see on those holiday cards. putting those two on tree-hunting duty was a good idea, even if they were decided from losing a game of slapjack.

(that day still gives you the shivers. the air around haerin as she chose her victim to accompany her on her expedition was absolutely chilling.)

the rest of the jobs were decided by first come, first served. unfortunately, danielle and hyein called dibs on baking all of the sweet treats and pastries for the party, so that left you and hanni for decorations.

look, you love hanni. she's a wonderful friend and an even lovelier girlfriend. it's just... you know, with all the decorating... how are you supposed to resist making short jokes targeted towards her when everything gives you a chance to? and that's exactly how your trip to home depot went. every other aisle would have you lightly teasing your vertically challenged girlfriend, and every other aisle would have her scolding you or landing a half-hearted punch on your shoulder. ouch.

"you guys sure are late," hyein jokingly crosses her arms upon your arrival. her mask breaks almost immediately, and she has to stifle a giggle. there's spots of flour on her face, and danielle, who is beaming next to her, has pink frosting smeared on her cheek. looks like their baking session went a little haywire.

hanni huffs, swinging a horridly orange home depot branded bag over her shoulder to set down next to the freshly installed tree. "do you know how crowded home depot is on christmas eve eve?"

"must've been hard reaching for the last box of ornaments," minji snorts, leaning over from her spot on the couch to try to peek inside the reusable bag. hanni swats her hand away and proceeds to point and laugh at the ugly christmas sweater that the taller has donned.

you giggle at their interaction before placing the rest of the orange bags next to the one hanni put down and make a beeline to the open kitchen, where a tray of warm and decorated cookies lay. there's a broken snowflake-shaped cookie with unsightly neon turquoise frosting pasted messily on top, and you decide to put it out of its misery by plopping it in your mouth. "mmh, warm, buttery, and sweet. as expected, you two."

the baker pair share a proud look and a fistbump, and then a voice sounds out from right beside you alongside a crunch. "these are good."

startled, you look to your right and haerin's staring right at you with a gingerbread man—headless, because she bit off its head—pinched in a hold between her pointer and her thumb. you press a hand to your heart, "when did you get here!?"

she ignores your question, instead walking away to peer into the products you and hanni reaped from the warehouse. if you listened closely, you could hear the feline quietly hum the home depot theme song. unbelievable.

minji tries to start something, likely about how haerin got to look before she did, but danielle interrupts before she can even let a second word of complaint escape her lips. "let's get decorating!"

with the sunshine's interruption, the group breaks into laughter and minji takes the three orange bags to the dining table where their contents can be spilled out. ornaments, string lights in both tacky rainbow colors and the neat white ones, and other little trinkets and decorations—you really just grabbed everything that was left, not that it was a bad thing! it's just... really random compared to everything else.

"whoever's last has to decorate the tree," danielle calls out, a small smile settling on her face, and she places her finger on the tip of her nose, "not it!"

you got caught off-guard, and that ultimately leaves you as the last one standing. even haerin's in on it, the little devil—she's developing her own characteristic shit-eating grin and it's starting to piss you off.

"you're out, y/n," minji laughs, and her eyes subtly snap between you and hanni, "pick someone to work with you."

your gaze trails over to your girlfriend, who frantically shakes her head in distress. 'no,' she signals with her eyes, 'please don't pick me.'

hyein waves a swaying hand in front of you, a teasing glint in her eyes, "don't take too long picking, unnie, or else the beautiful tree they picked will be all for naught!"

well, you didn't have to be told twice. "hanni."

"nooooo!"

"i can't believe you chose me. i mean, couldn't you tell i didn't want to be picked? my own girlfriend betraying me, how could you?" the shorter girl grumbles, handing you an ornament to hang on a higher section of the tree. the two of you have worked through almost all of it after hanging four sets of string lights, two multicolored, two white.

"it's not that bad, han," you chuckle, expertly looping the red ornament's string around a branch. the leaves brush against your skin and it's electrifying—in a good way, of course. "besides, this way you don't have to complain about what kind of placement minji or hyein decided on, yeah? plus, you're the perfect height to reach those bottom branches."

hanni gasps in offense, her jaw dropped. "i'm not that short!" and she hands you the last ornament to hang: an otter with a santa hat.

you grin, taking it from her hand and pointing at the small plush, "this one looks like you."

"really?" she furrows her eyebrows.

you hold it up next to her face for comparison. "definitely."

after putting the otter plush in an empty-looking spot in the middle of the tree, you pick up a star topper and present it to your girlfriend, who looks at you with a deadpan stare. "you're not actually asking me to put it on, are you?"

"i'm deadass," you smile, "take it, i'll help you up."

hanni stares at you for a bit longer, as if she were waiting for you to break your expression and claim that it was a joke. unfortunately for her, you don't, only pushing the topper into her hands. "how are we even going to—ah, what the hell!"

you've gone and easily lifted your girlfriend up by the waist, just enough so that she could reach the top of the tree. she squirms in your hold, and you giggle at her struggle. "hurry up, han!"

"okay, okay! move forward a little, will you?"

with your help, hanni manages to perfectly place the star on top of the tree and returning her to the ground earns you a satisfied hum and a hug, which you reciprocate. out of character, but not unwelcome.

now done with the tree, you can finally look around to your surroundings where the entire house has been christmasified: string lights, plushies with santa hats, a winter village on the windowsill on top of a white cloth resembling snow, and a train track on another windowsill. there's shuffling from below you, and you lock eyes with haerin who gradually rises from her brief squatting position on the ground. a smirk slowly takes over your face. hanni tilts her head in confusion.

the feline stands on her tiptoes to dangle the mistletoe above you and hanni's heads, and once the smaller girl realizes what the plant was, her face explodes into a multitude of reds and pinks.

the others, witnessing this scene unfold, start chanting and playfully raising their fists. "kiss! kiss! kiss!"

you press your forehead against your girlfriend's. "looks like we have no choice but to kiss, hanni."

her eyes soften. "you're saying it like it's a chore."

you shake your head slightly in disbelief, scoffing. "i'm just saying, it's an honor to ki-"

before you could finish your sentence, you feel the fabric of your shirt get tugged forward, and soon you feel a soft pair of lips pressed against your own. the kiss is soothing but exciting, and you lean into the familiar warmth. nothing else mattered in that moment, all you can focus on is the way she tastes like mint—it's only a bit embarrassing that you might taste like the sweet buttercream cookie that you had earlier.

a burst of cheers erupt from around you, causing you to break away from the kiss. but you don't pay any mind to the others—instead, you pull hanni closer into an affectionate hug. you lean forward to brush your lips across her ear, smiling at how quickly it turns red from her blush.

"merry christmas, han."

hanni buries her face into your shoulder. "merry christmas, y/n."

a/n : MERRY CHRISTMAS it's still technically christmas for me so i'm not late I SWEAR ok i know that I said i wouldn't write any more fluff but that was a lie... i would be a devil if i ruined the holiday spirit with angst happy holidays!!

[lundenloves]

@bringinsexybackk69: can i please request dad simon with a boy? like yeah he has all his girls and then there's either the youngest or the oldest and it's his only son? i can just picture like the girls are jealous cause he gets new clothes not hand-me-downs, he gets to do his own sports with out his siblings, he gets to go shooting with the 141- just like totally sibling rivalry and fighting over who is dads favorite?!

youngest.

simon is over the fucking moon when he finds out it's a boy - he's one of them dads in american gender reveals who says “i think you're a girl but i need you to be a boy" 💀

instant attention all goes to this kid, because A) he actually knows how to do it now and B that's his boy. that's his fuckin lad.

the kid looks like you. boys look like their mums, girls look like their dads n all that but christ does he have simon's quietness.

a complete observer like his dad. will be in silence while the girls argue, quietly exchanging glances with simon who internally feels like fucking high-fiving himself for creating a kid who finally understands him.

however the clothes are admittedly down to you, you love buying shit. any excuse. and having a son instead of another girl gave you great reason. though you did go too far sometimes. credit card bills rocketed.

he gets his own room too. straight off the bat, fresh into this fucking world and he's got it all. or that's how your daughters seen it.

“how does he get everything."

“give him a fucking chance." mumbling something about how he's only a week old. the dad sigh strikes again.

him and simon fuck off together a lot. they'll be away camping somewhere, simon teaching this (probably half uninterested) kid how to do all the survival stuff since his girls were never interested.

and when he gets older, maybe around seventeen to eighteen he's so game for that stuff. realistically, was probably in the school cadets n all 💀

when he's able enough, he'll maybe tag along on a run with 141 or summat. this is an incredibly humbling experience to say the least, though uncle soap is there to make everything a laugh n slow the run. "boys, boys, give the lad a chance eh?"

gets into his dads routine of the gym in mornings too, simon watching his workout from a distance before giving him pointers - hands on hips before stepping back to see if he's doing it right or not.

although, simon does not let him apply to the army. all fun n games till it wants to happen isn't it padre?

probably applies behind simon's back ngl. resulting in a huge fuck off argument once a letter comes in stamped under british army branding under the kids name instead of his own. yikes.

classic son x father shouting match.

i’m probably going to get asked to write that now aren’t i? happily, gladly, don’t get me wrong. sorry i haven’t been writing much but i do enjoy talking to you lot in the inbox.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @ellies-girll @paperbag-prncs @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon

[ares857]

internet find

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 19/20

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN

PART NINETEEN

                “Uncle Rooster! I want to draw you a picture…”

                Bradley’s head snaps up, because one of those names is brand new, but the other got his attention. The combination from Lexis has him stuttering out some form of reply he doesn’t even know, completely unable to come up with a coherent response as Lexis drags him toward the table covered in paper and coloring things. He’s never thought about kids, not even as nieces or nephews. As an only child he’d always figured it was a moot point.

                Now, with Lexis giving him pointers on his choice of markers, her calling him Uncle Rooster again, Andy copying her and then demanding to sit on his other side while he draws has him realizing he might get to have this as well. He looks up from his drawing to see Jake taking the seat opposite him at the table, expression pensive. He feels Jake’s foot poke his and he raises an eyebrow in query.

                “What?”

                “You good?” Jake asks, and Bradley frowns, not sure what or why he’s asking. “Uncle Rooster?” Jake asks, and Bradley expects him to be grinning except he’s not. Instead, he’s reached for a piece of paper and is writing on it, ripping it off and then reaching across the table to give it to him.

                “Passing notes?” Bradley asks, rolling his eyes and he can tell Jake wants to give him the finger but is resisting because Lexis and Andy are sitting either side of him. He unfolds the piece of paper and reads the few words;

                I can ask them not to call you that.

                He immediately shakes his head.

                “No. It’s good. It’s fine. I like it.”

                The smile Jake gives him is slow but warm and he feels Jake’s foot run up his calf.

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah,” Bradley confirms, licking his lips, fully aware of Jake tracking the movement, silent amusement on his face now, but he’s no longer looking worried so Bradley takes that as a win.

                “Good. You want a coffee?”

                “I want a fluffy!” Andy declares, quickly followed by Lexis saying “Me too!” and Bradley looks to Lexis and Andy and then at Jake, who is grinning at them widely.

                “What the – uh, what’s a fluffy?”

                “Frothed milk. With a side of marshmallows. You guys know the rules, you have to pay the barista… and ask nicely.”

                “Do I have to pay the barista?” Bradley asks.

                “Oh, I’m sure we can work out a payment plan…” Jake says with a wink and Bradley snorts, shakes his head but he’s smiling.

                “You have to draw Uncle Jake a picture… please can I have a fluffy Uncle Jake?”

                “Of course you can darlin’, and I look forward to my picture there Rooster…”

                Bradley looks down at the blank piece of paper in front of him and pulls a face, then feels a small hand on his arm.

                “It’s okay Uncle Rooster, I’ll help you…”

                “Thanks.”

…            …            …

                “Wow Lexis, that’s gorgeous. Maybe I can change my profile picture…”

                “Those are fighting words Rooster. You even know how?” Jake teases, but he’s placing a soft kiss to the side of his face as he places a mug of coffee in the center of the table where it’s unlikely to get knocked by small hands.

                “I can figure it out,” Bradley laughs, because he’s actually feeling pretty adept now at using Instagram.

                “What is your picture anyway? It’s very blurry…”

                “Oh, it’s a type of beer Nat and I found in Vietnam. Rooster Beers. I became quite partial to the blonde…”

                “Did you now?” Jake asks, shit eating grin on his face, but it morphs quickly into the happy face scrunch Bradley’s starting to become familiar with when Jake is… relaxed. Happy. He’s going back into the kitchen, coming back with little mugs on plates for Lexis and Andy but Bradley’s eyes don’t leave Jake.

                “Yeah. I did. I do.”

TWENTY

[kolutshanpress]

as per a request in my local renegade server: here is my process (such as it is) for the stenciled covers i've done for my binds. obviously, huge thanks to everyone in the renegade discord for teaching me most of what i know about bookbinding. this tutorial only exists thanks to the resources they've made available and the conversations i've had there.

material list

vinyl cutter (i have a silhouette portrait 3) + mat + blade

stencil vinyl (i have this one, but have had some adherence troubles with it. unclear whether this is just The Nature Of Stencil Vinyl or whether there's a better brand out there. adhesive vinyl can also be a viable option, although i haven't personally experimented with it yet.)

transfer tape (i have this stuff. it's fine.)

weeding tools (i have this hook and a very fine tip pair of tweezers. i highly recommend getting a hook, especially if you—like me—are haunted by the specter of carpal tunnel. get an off-brand one or get one on sale, though. i only have the silhouette brand one because it was on clearance.)

acrylic medium (i have this one because it was on sale at the time i was buying acrylic medium. when i replace it, i will be replacing it with a matte one. the gloss definitely has a noticeable sheen that i don't love.)

acrylic paint (literally any paint will do. i've been mostly using the decoart extreme sheen because it's $4 at michaels. you may be noticing a theme here.)

stiff stenciling brushes (the ones i have are similar to these but cost even less. again, there's a theme here.)

an iron and some parchment paper (jury is still out on whether using heat to "set" the pattern is necessary, but i do feel like it melts the paint a bit into the bookcloth and lessens the extent to which the pattern sits above the bookcloth.)

your trusty bone folder

instructions and a truly hideous number of words under the cut.

step 0.5: discern what will make a good stencil and what will make you hate yourself, your life, and the art of bookbinding

there are a LOT of different ways to put titling on a book. you could do a paper cover with a printed design or paste paper labels onto bookcloth or foil your title onto your cover with heat activated foil. the best method depends on what kind of design you have in mind, what tools you have available to you, and what materials you're working with (for example, i've had very bad luck getting acrylic paint to adhere to Allure bookcloth, but Allure does foil like a dream).

as far as stencils are concerned, you can kind of sort cover designs into three categories:

BEST for stencils: big, bold shapes on larger format books (think letter folio or letter/legal quarto)

OKAY for stencils, but you might hate yourself: intricate detail at a large enough form factor for it to be cut well by your vinyl cutter

BAD for stencils, you will die and it will hurt the entire time you are dying: lots of intricate detail and lots of fine lines

below are examples of category 1, 2, and 3 (all designed for letter folio). to be clear, category 3 can technically be possible, depending on the design. but only undertake it with the awareness that you will die, and it will hurt the entire time you are dying.

step 1: design a thing to put on your cover

i'm not going to go too in depth on this because cover design is a HUGE can of worms. a few pointers, though:

i never start designing my cover until my text block is done. this allows me to design my cover at "full size" based on the measured size of my text block and cover boards.

i fully lay out my cover in a separate program before exporting a transparent PNG to silhouette studio (or whichever proprietary software you have to use to communicate with your particular vinyl cutter). i use affinity designer. some free options would be inkscape (if you want to work with vectors) or gimp.

i design my cover on a document with dimensions of (HEIGHT of boards + 20 mm) x (WIDTH of boards or spine + 20 mm) and 10 mm margins. the area within the margins represents the actual dimensions of the thing i'm designing, while the area outside of the margins creates a mask that prevents me from getting paint on things i don't want paint on (like the covers, if i'm creating a spine stencil).

i always outline my document with a 3 or 4pt black line. this creates the outer edge of my stencil and provides my vinyl cutter with a cut line. if you're working with a smaller vinyl cutter (like the cricut joy) there are ways to jigsaw designs together from smaller pieces of vinyl, but i'm not the person to ask about that. i specifically bought a portrait so that i didn't have to worry about that.

here's an example of one of my affinity files from a recent cover. i've exaggerated my outline to make it clearer. you can also see that i use affinity to experiment with color combinations. before i export, i turn all my elements black and make any backgrounds transparent, meaning that the PNG i import into silhouette studio looks like the one on the right.

step 2: cut and weed your stencil

again, not going to go terribly in depth here. there is a veritable army of youtubers out there with tutorials about how to use [insert propriety vinyl cutter software here]. but, again, a few pointers:

with my particular vinyl cutter and stencil vinyl, i usually cut my stencils with the material set to "washi," depth at 1, force at 13, and speed at 4. google, experiment, see what works. also, you want to put your stencil vinyl on the mat with the blue vinyl facing UP, and you don't want to mirror your design. with stencils, what you see is what you get.

i cut my vinyl a bit bigger than necessary because i'd rather waste a bit of vinyl than have to worry about a stencil falling off the edge of my vinyl because i misaligned it on the mat.

unlike HTV, you will be weeding out all the black parts of your original image. be prepared to hate the letters "e" and "a" forever, because you will have to somehow keep the little eye of them in place while you pry out the rest of it.

step 3: apply your stencil to your case

alright, now let's get into the meat of it. i always stencil after my case is finished but before i case in my book. this means that if i totally fuck it up, i can trash the case instead of the entire book.

additionally, i completely stencil my spine first (as in lay down stencil, paint, remove stencil) and then stencil my covers. i've found that it's easier when you don't have stencils overlapping and sticking to each other.

OPTIONAL STEP: mark guides onto your cover to help you position your stencil. whether or not i do this step depends on the design. a lot of the time, i just eyeball it. but for some designs, precision is key. for those projects, i use my ruler to mark out guides in white chalk for where i need certain elements of the stencil to fall. (i used guide marks for the "penguin clothbound" copies of the The Weight Collected that i've been using as an example in this post—the black rectangular boarder would've made uneven placement REALLY obvious.)

use transfer tape to remove your vinyl from its slick backing. what i've found is that you really, really don't want your transfer tape to be too sticky. you want it just barely sticky enough to pick up the stencil if you rub it down with a bone folder or your fingernail. i have a piece of transfer tape that i stuck to my jeans a bunch of times and then proceeded to use for 8 books in a row. it is, frankly, still a little bit too sticky. i have rolled it up so that i can use it for the next 8 books, at which point it will presumably be the right level of stickiness.

position your stencil. when you're happy with it, rub it firmly down with your bone folder. then do it again. then use your fingernail to score down over the titling text. then pray. in my experience, stencils prefer to stick to transfer tape rather than bookcloth. ymmv.

start at one corner of your stencil. carefully begin peeling back the transfer tape. i've found that essentially folding back the transfer tape (like, the corner that's been freed from the stencil being folded back away from the stencil) helps the tape to release. go slowly, rubbing down with the bone fold as necessary.

after you've finally manage to pry the tape off, go back and smooth down the stencil and firmly rub it down to get it to adhere to the bookcloth as thoroughly as possible with as few ripples or air bubbles as possible.

step 4: paint time!

here is a secret that the renegade discord taught me that i am now passing on to all of you: before you put any paint on your stencil, put down a layer of clear acrylic medium. the medium will finish the job of pasting down the stencil to your cover, and any leaks that happen in the process will be clear medium instead of colored paint (and will therefore be basically unnoticeable). ergo:

stipple a thin coat of acrylic medium over your stencil. you want to use an up-and-down daubing motion, not a brushing motion. brushing will get paint under your stencil. let dry.

after your medium is dry, stipple a few thin coats of your colored acrylic paint onto your stencil. let dry between coats. (i usually find that two coats is enough.) again, try to keep your coats thin. you don't want a thick layer of paint because that will create a raised surface above your bookcloth.

let your paint fully dry. i usually leave it overnight, but if i'm feeling especially impatient, i still make sure to at least give it a good three or four hours.

peel up your stencil. your weeding tools will once again come into play here to pry up little bits and pieces of stencil (like the stupid eyes of the "a"s and "e"s that were so annoying during the initial weeding stage).

step 5: optional setting stage

again, jury is still out on whether or not this is necessary, and the effects are pretty subtle. but i do it every time anyway. some tips:

use an iron on very low heat (i keep mine at the low end of the synthetic setting) and with steam turned OFF

keep a piece of parchment paper (NOT waxed paper. you want the slick paper that you put under cookies to keep them from sticking to the pan.) between the iron and your cover.

press the iron down, don't rub it like you're ironing a shirt. it's possible to smear your paint doing that (ask me how i know).

i usually lay the iron down on a section for 10-15 seconds at a time, then lift it and move it to another section.

start with less of everything (less heat, less time) and build up. always better to be conservative with this.

i usually continue until the paint is warm to the touch, then move onto another section. after it's cooled, i evaluate if i feel like it's melted into the cloth enough. if not, i repeat the process.

step 6: BOOK

congrats, you have put a design on a book cover. the world is your oyster. go forth and make books. become ungovernable.

[paddockletters]

learning to drive | charles leclerc

paring: charles leclerc x reader summary: Charles decides it's time to teach you how to drive, leading to playful teasing, a heartwarming day filled with laughter, and ove author's note: none, just my request are open

Ever since I casually mentioned over dinner that I’d never learned to drive, Charles has been on a mission to poke fun at me whenever he gets the chance.

“Babe, how do you plan on surviving in Monaco without driving? The buses are not exactly your style,” he’d tease, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“I survive just fine with you as my chauffeur,” I always shot back, rolling my eyes but secretly loving the attention.

But today, he was determined to change that.

We were sitting at home, the sunlight streaming through the windows, when he suddenly jumped off the couch with a burst of energy.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re fixing this today,” Charles announced, grabbing his car keys.

“What? Fixing what?” I asked, confused but also slightly amused.

“Your inability to drive,” he said, flashing that cheeky grin I couldn’t resist.

“Oh no, Charles, I don’t think—”

Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the driver’s seat of his fancy sports car, feeling both excited and terrified. The leather seats smelled brand new, and everything about the car screamed speed, wealth, and Charles.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you teach me how to drive in this car,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

“Relax, it’s just a car,” he said casually, sliding into the passenger seat with a smirk. “Besides, I trust you.”

His words should’ve been comforting, but when the car was worth more than an apartment in Monaco, that trust felt like a lot of pressure.

“Okay,” he started, hands gesturing to the pedals, “this is the accelerator, this is the brake. You’ve seen me do it a thousand times.”

“I know how cars work, Charles,” I retorted, giving him a playful glare. “I’m just... not sure I want to wreck this one.”

“Good, good, just checking,” he smirked. “Now, gently press on the gas…”

I did as he said, and the car jerked forward slightly. I could hear him stifling a laugh next to me.

“Smooth,” he teased. “Real smooth.”

I glared at him. “This is harder than it looks!”

“Babe, you’re driving at like, 2 km/h. We’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” he said, his tone playful.

“Do you want to walk home?” I shot back, trying to focus on keeping the car steady.

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. Let’s take it easy. You’re doing great. We’ll get you to 10 km/h in no time.”

I hesitantly pressed the accelerator, and the car jolted forward—too quickly for my liking. Charles stifled a laugh beside me, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh my God, don’t laugh!” I groaned, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m not laughing, I swear!” he said, clearly lying but trying to hold it together. “You’re doing great.”

We crept forward at a snail’s pace, Charles offering pointers every few minutes. But it didn’t take long for him to start making jokes again.

“Maybe we should install a ‘Learner Driver’ sign on the back,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He grinned and leaned back in his seat, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“You know, for someone who’s never driven before, you’re doing surprisingly well. Maybe you’re a natural. Leclerc blood rubbing off on you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. Maybe I was doing okay after all.

“Okay, let’s try turning,” he said, gesturing toward the wheel. “You can turn, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laughed, gripping the wheel a little too tightly as I made the slowest turn in history.

“Wow, look at that! You’re a natural!” he said, clapping his hands in mock celebration. “Next stop: the Monaco Grand Prix.”

After a few laps around the parking lot, Charles leaned over, his voice softer now. “Alright, ready for a challenge?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of challenge?”

“Parking,” he said, pointing to an empty spot nearby. “Right there. Show me what you’ve got.”

I glanced at the spot. It looked impossibly small, though I knew it wasn’t. I shot him a skeptical look.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s the perfect idea,” he said with a wink. “And if you nail it, I’ll buy you whatever dessert you want tonight.”

“Oh, now you’re bribing me,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. But I couldn’t deny the extra motivation it gave me.

“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got this.”

Slowly, I started to pull into the spot. The car edged forward, my hands gripping the wheel tightly, my eyes focused on the lines. And then… the car stopped.

“You stalled it,” he said, his voice barely containing his amusement.

“I know!” I groaned, slumping in my seat as he burst into laughter.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even F1 drivers stall sometimes,” he said between chuckles. “But, uh, maybe not in parking lots.”

I shot him a look. “You’re the worst teacher ever.”

“But the best driver you know,” he winked, before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You were so close!” Charles exclaimed, laughing. “Come on, you’ve got this.”

I groaned, slumping back in my seat. “I’m never going to be good at this.”

He reached over, placing a hand on mine.

“Hey, you’re doing amazing. This is your first time. Do you know how many parking tickets I got when I was learning? My mom was not happy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a younger Charles struggling with parking, despite now being one of the best drivers in the world. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. She threatened to stop letting me borrow her car if I didn’t learn to park properly,” he chuckled.

That gave me a bit more confidence. I took a deep breath and tried again, this time managing to park the car (sort of) successfully. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible either.

Charles grinned proudly. “There you go. I knew you had it in you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. F1 driver,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling.

He laughed and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Next time, we’ll take you out on the road.”

My eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “But don’t worry, I’ll be right here the whole time, making fun of you.”

I laughed, feeling a mixture of excitement and terror at the idea of driving on actual streets. But with Charles by my side, I figured I might just survive.

As we sat in the car, a comfortable silence settled between us. My thoughts drifted back to when Charles had just started in Formula 1. I remember how nervous he was before his first race in Australia. He tried to hide it, but I could see right through him.

“I was so scared back then,” he admitted, reading my mind. “I was terrified I’d mess it up.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, smiling softly at him. “You were incredible.”

“I had you there,” he said, glancing over at me. “That helped.”

I blushed slightly, remembering how I’d stayed up with him the night before his first race, talking about anything and everything to calm his nerves. We talked about his childhood, how he used to race go-karts with his dad, and how much it meant to him to follow in Jules Bianchi’s footsteps.

“Do you ever miss those days?” I asked, curious.

“Sometimes,” he said, nodding. “Things were simpler then. Less pressure. But I wouldn’t trade where I am now for anything.”

“Not even for fewer teasing moments like this?” I joked.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not even for that.”

[ailithnight]

Howdy y'all. Have a snippet that is completely unconnected to anything else I am writing or will write. Feel free to do with it whatever you please.

But first, important warning! TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault of a Minor

Seriously, this actually might be a brand new kind of fucked up even for the Danny Phantom fandom.

"Oh. I don't think you need to worry about, uh… that stuff."

"Oh? Why not?"

"It's just. Um. Y'know. The, the scientist were always fascinated by, um, by my 'mimicry of bodily functions,' right? They wanted to test how far the, 'the mimicry' extended. If I'd 'mimic' things like, digestion and immune response and, and um, excitement."

"Excitement." Flat. Not really a question, but a question all the same.

"Yeah. You know…" Danny makes a couple hand gestures. Wiggles his pointer a couple times; then holding his hand in a loose fist and giving a couple jerky, twisting pulling motions. Kind of like… Oh. Oh god. He's just 15. It's such a painfully 15 thing to do, dancing around the topic like this. All awkward and nervous.

But also, god, he's so painfully 15. Jason is suddenly wishing he'd made a lot more bullet holes when they took those fuckers down. He would have if he'd known just how far their depravity sank. If he'd known they had-

"They sexually assaulted you?" Dick's voice is high and strained. Jason winces. Everyone knows, Dick hasn't told them, but they've all seen the signs, they know he has some personal traumas there.

Danny full body flinches, recoiling as if Dick had just slapped him.

"What? No! It wasn't. They didn't. It's not like they were, like, getting off to it or anything. They were just. Testing reactions. To, like, stimuli and stuff. Same as when they'd test how my body responded to different temperatures or lack of oxygen or various drugs. It wasn't. It was just an experiment." Danny looks down, fidgeting his hands in his lap and refusing to look up. It's practically textbook denial. Dick is probably fighting flashbacks right now. Jason would try to help him if he wasn't trapped somewhere between horror and rage.

After a long moment of silence and fidgeting, Danny sighs. Still refusing to look at anyone, he leans back and studies the cieling instead. "Anyway. It was just another expiriment, but it still kind of killed any interest in… that stuff." Young. Young. So painfully young. "So I don't think I really need the whole… y'know… talk."

[seattlesellie]

Would you ever write something with gf Ellie first time ever degrading you?? :O I feel like she’d be so subtle at first and shy but then realizes you are into it and she starts going further and calling you a slut etc etcccc I feel like it’d be so hot to hear he all shy only to end up mocking reader🤓🤓

warnings: doing it while your parents are sleeping in the next room, little degradation, strap on sex ‘n bad writing.<3

full, stuffed— is exactly how you felt. when ellie has the 8 inch silicon cock snug inside of your gummy, tight walls, it’s hard to imagine you’ve ever been empty, or, well… that you ever will be again.

this rooms walls are paper thin, and you know your parents could hear if you dared to screech or to moan an octave higher. for ellie, for ellie it’s easier because she groans and pants, and she can do it quietly enough because she’s not the one getting railed deep inside her childhood bedroom. before you and ellie arrived, you made a promise. “no sex until were back home”, and hell, you even made her use her pinky.

but now— your juices are flowing down your thighs and her thighs and it all sticks together in a mushy, slippery little mess.

when ellie plunges herself deeper, hitting the bottom of your cervix with the light purple, mushroom like tip of her strap— you frantically yelp. “nggh… el— s’too deep i ‘cant—“, ellie shushes you immediately; brings her pointer finger to the plush of your lips and zips them together. “shh shh… fuck, gotta be quiet”,

she warns you. she cares. she’s such a sweetheart.

your panicked expression, the way your eyeballs nearly pop out when she pushes it in deeper on purpose, makes ellie know that she’s going to have to use more than just her finger to shut you up. another whine escapes your lips, and this time, ellie slaps her entire clammy palm on your quivering mouth. you attempt to peel it off with your hand, but ellie knows better. the other hand, her unused one— maneuvers itself down to your sensitive, split open pussy, and her thumb begins lightly circling your clit while maintaining her brutal pace. ellie knows that whenever she touches on the sensitive little nub for the first time— especially when it’s been neglected for over 3 minutes now, your body freezes entirely. so you don’t slap her hand away (you can’t), but you squeal out a muffled sound of her name. “mphhllie!”

you squealed. you actually squealed, and every time she slams it in deeper— you squeal again, like a puppys brand new chew toy, right out of the box.

for you, it’s absolutely embarrassing. it’s embarrassing because it’s only been 6 minutes thats she’d been fucking you for and she’s already rendered you a squeaky, squirming mess.

for ellie, however, it’s melodic. in fact, it makes ellie’s puffy clit throb and makes her toes curl up inside her white socks.

to you, you sound pathetic.

to ellie, you sound like a raging slut. most importantly, her raging slut. she won’t ever say it though, but god— how she wants to.

her thumbs beginning to slip, going side to side instead of her calculated circles, and she’s starting to lose it. you know she does, because everything she says comes out through gritted teeth. “i swear… you gotta keep it down, babe” she whispers, kissing you softly on your cheeks to calm you down. for some reason, that sweet action makes you squeeze around her strap and she swears she just felt it.

“almost there… huh, pretty girl? you almost there?”, you nod— and she nods with you. “mhm… you can give it to me… know you want to, shit— give it to me”. ellie slips out, slaps the tip on top of your aching clit and plunges herself deep again. this time, when you feel it slip back inside, you moan several octaves higher. ellie whimpers, because ellie can’t help it anymore, and then—

a door cracks open. not yours, thank god— but your parents’ bedroom door. you freeze, ellie freezes, and you can feel her heartbeat on top of your chest.

two light knocks on your door. “sweetheart, everything alright? i heard something” your father rasps, and it’s his sleepy voice that tells you he actually fell asleep but woke up because of your noises.

ellie shakes her head rapidly, pupils all blown out. “say something!” she whispers frantically. she’s still inside of you and when you mean to get her off, she accidentally falls on top of you and the strap buries itself inside deep. “gah—‘f ‘fine dad! don’t ‘c, come inside we’re studying!”

thankfully, he accepts it— and walks off.

leisurely, absolutely ignoring what had just happened, ellie slams into you in an awful, torturous, delicious slow pace. whenever she moves, your wet squelching sounds fill the air and it’s disgusting.

“this is… all your ‘f— fault!” you yelp, and ellie giggles. to that, you wrap your legs around her back and push her in deeper. the base of her strap grazes her clit and sends a shockwave through her body. she can’t move, paralyzed— so you move her yourself. she looks you in the eyes, and if she can’t use her body, she might as well use her mouth.

“shit, s’not my fault you sound like a slut” she murmurs. the nickname makes you squeeze around her girth and another sweet droplet of your slick runs down your thighs to the seam of your ass. you shut your eyes, trying to think of a clever comeback— maybe she’s the slut. all that comes out, is an incredibly silly sentence, one that makes ellie nearly cum from nothing. “you made me this… w— way”

that smile that’s plastered on her pretty, flushed face is triumphant. “made you a slut, huh?” she rasps, and you cry out— fuck, she thinks. you like this. “who’s slut?” she asks, it’s meaningless, it really is because she knows.

“your… oh fuck!— your slut”

“ellie’s slut?”

you hum, nearly reaching your orgasm as she nearly reaches hers as well. ellie’s thighs shake and her vision is blurry— but she needs to tell you this, so she does.

“be a fuckin’ slut, and cum on this dick”

not fuckdrunk ellie would never say this. sober ellie would never say this. but the ellie whos inside of you now, the ellie who’s slut you are— yeah, she’s gonna say it. more than once, too.

when it’s over, she turns to face you between aimless, hushed giggles.

“hey slut, get me some water? m’thirsty” you gasp, and the pillow you throw lands on her face and nearly breaks her nose. (<3)

[munsonsmixtapes]

I’ll Help You Get Over It (4)

fuckboy!eddie x fem!reader

When working on the project with Eddie, you wonder if maybe he’s not the guy that everyone thinks he is.

cw: hurt/no comfort

Living with the Buckleys is such a drastic difference from living with your parents. They all make conversation that’s not about your significant other or school. They actually seem to care about you and your interests, encouraging you to go after what you want to do. It’s so refreshing, so freeing to be able to be your own person.

You stand in the mirror in the guest room, turning this way and that as you take in your new outfit. You’re wearing a cropped t-shirt and a pair of shorts that would have definitely been deemed inappropriate. But you don’t have to worry about being stopped at the front door anymore. You can wear whatever you want now.

It’s your first day back at work since the whole incident with Eddie and Josh. Since your ex has now been banned from the premises, you don’t have to worry about running into him again. You blocked his number too so now he has no way of getting hold of you. You’re finally free of the bastard and couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

You pull up to the arcade and hold your head high as you get out of your car. You then head towards the building with a brand new attitude, actually smiling at your coworkers as you head into the break room to clock in. And why shouldn’t you? You’re a free woman now.

“There she is,” you hear a voice behind you And Steve and Robin are standing at the table, a cake sitting on it. It’s covered in chocolate frosting and the words “good riddance” are written on the top in red.

“Congrats on your break up,” they say in unison and you match their wide smiles. They know you so well.

“Thank you so much,” you say, looking down at the cake then up at your friends, deciding that you couldn’t have asked for better ones.

“Robin told me that you kicked his ass. Is that true?”

“No,” you glare at Robin then swipe your pointer finger across the letters off the cake before licking the frosting off of your finger. “I punched him in the face, which is not the same thing.”

“Still,” Steve shrugs, stepping over to stand in front of you. His hands clap your shoulders as he gives you a shake. “You stood up to him and that’s all that matters. I’m so proud of you.” He pulls you into a hug and you squeeze each other tight.

Steve has always been someone you've felt like you could confide in. Even though his familial trauma isn’t the same as yours, you still know that he can relate to having parents that don’t behave as such. He’s been there for you for so long and he’s so proud that you finally did something for yourself.

“Thanks Stevie,” you reply as you both pull away then punch in and grab your vest from the locker before heading out onto the floor. You thought you’d be more nervous to be back in the place that showed you just how much of a monster Josh is but you’re not. You’re actually so glad to be back and somehow missed this place during your few days off.

You stand behind the prize counter, scrolling through your phone when you get a text from an unknown number. You really hope that it’s not Josh because you really can’t deal with him anymore.

Hey, it’s Eddie. Are we still on to meet tonight to work on the project?

You find yourself smiling as you read his message over and over before typing out a quick response as a girl around your age comes up to the counter.

Yep! Your place, right?

Yeah. See you soon!

“Hey,” she smiles. You immediately recognize her from one of your classes and remember her being nice to you. She let you borrow her notes when you missed a day because you were sick. She’s wringing her hands as if she’s nervous and now you’re curious as to what she has to say. “I know Eddie Munson hangs out here a lot and I know you’re friends and I was wondering if you’ve seen him around. I was supposed to meet him here.”

“Oh.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Just when you think Eddie is a nice guy, he pulls this kind of shit and it immediately turns you off. You really wish he would stop stringing these poor girls along. “He’s actually sick. I just talked to him earlier and he seemed really out of it from the cold medicine.”

You don’t know why you’re covering for him. He doesn’t deserve it. Especially not after being such a pig. You can’t believe you actually fell for his bullshit. You don’t know much, but what you do know is that you’re not getting trapped in Eddie’s gross web.

“Oh, poor thing,” she pouts. “I’m gonna make him a care package.” With that, she turns on her heel and you’re quick to pick up your phone and type another message.

Your flavor of the week was just here asking for you and I covered your ass so I’m expecting you to repay me somehow

You can just see the smug smirk that’s probably playing on his pretty lips when his reply comes through.

I can think of a few ways ;)

Just kidding

Talk to me like that again and I’ll castrate you.

Kinky

It’s a wonder how you get women into your bed when you talk to them like that.

Well to be fair, we’re never doing much talking.

You’re disgusting

With that, you turn your phone on do not disturb, then set it on the counter again. You don’t know what you were thinking. For a second there, you were actually starting to like him. And now it’s like a switch flipped and he’s back to his old fuckboy ways. You guess guys like him really don’t grow up.

The way he spoke to you mixed with seeing that poor girl look so sad just makes your blood boil. It’s clear that the only person Eddie Munson cares about is Eddie Munson and you’re wondering if maybe you had him all wrong. Maybe that whole “nice guy” thing is all an act that he was using to try to get you into bed.

You feel so stupid for not seeing it sooner. He’s just like all the other guys in town and you don’t know why you thought he’d be different. And now part of you wants to delete his number and take the F in the class just so you don’t have to see him again. It sounds really inviting, but you know you can’t afford to do that. The “perfect girl” image you’re trying to maintain won’t let you. Besides, you know how stubborn you are and there’s no way that you’re going to let Eddie win. You absolutely refuse.

The rest of your shift goes by at a glacial pace since it’s weeknight and it’s not busy. But then eight o’clock rolls around and it’s time for you to clock out. And now you’re dreading going over to Eddie’s. After the way he spoke to you, you’re considering canceling and hanging out with Robin and Steve tonight. They invited you to watch a movie with them and you’re so close to changing your mind.

You mutter to yourself under your breath as you clock out then head to your car, texting Eddie that you’re on the way before pulling out of the parking lot. You feel so stupid for actually falling for his nice guy act. He just-he seemed so genuine yesterday morning when he was telling you that his apartment could be a safe space for you. Your skin crawls now when you think about what he really meant by that.

Eddie feels like such an idiot right now. He had a good thing and of course he had to go and blow it. That’s what he’s best at. He’s just so used to being flirty that he doesn’t really know how to be genuine anymore. Now he’s afraid he’s turned you off and that wasn’t his intention.

He just doesn’t know how to behave around you when he’s sober. You’re just so nice and pretty and he wonders what that jackass did to be able to get the privilege to be able to call you his girlfriend. He supposes that Josh didn’t really do a great job since he’s your ex now.

He decides that he’s gonna be on his best behavior. He’s going to be a gentleman and just be your project partner. And for the first time, he’s going to apologize for being gross. It was totally out of line and he wishes he could take it back. He’s going to keep his distance and be respectful, keeping the conversation on the project and nothing else. Even though it’s going to kill him to do so.

There’s a knock in the door and he’s quick to fix his hair in the mirror by the door. He pushes it behind his ears then shakes his head and puts it back to the way it was. He then opens the door with a wide smile which quickly drops when he sees how angry you are. You storm into the apartment and he hates how much your anger is working for him.

“You know, I really thought you were different, but it turns out that you’re exactly the kind of guy I thought you were.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, realizing how badly he messed up by seeing how angry you are. “I didn’t mean it. I just-I don’t know how to talk to you. You make me nervous.”

“Do women actually fall for this bullshit?” You’re less mad now and more amazed at how easy it is for him to trick people.

“This isn’t some game to get you into bed, y/n. I genuinely am sorry and it won’t happen again.”

“Good,” you nod. “So let’s get started. Do you have your songs?” You’re not sure that you believe him, but it’s a start.

“Yep.”

You both head into the living room and you feel nervous showing him these songs. They’re so personal to you, almost like the words were taken directly from you and put onto paper. The second you heard them, you felt so seen. For the first time in your life, you felt understood.

You sit on opposite ends of his couch and you connect your phone to the speaker that’s sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Your heart races in your chest when you hit play, wondering what he’s going to think when you show him how you actually feel.

And if I was some paint did it splatter

On a promising grown man?

And if I was a child, did it matter

If you got to wash your hands?

Eddie watches you as the song plays. Just by looking at the way you feel so connected to the lyrics, he can tell that you can relate to them. He knew the guy was older than you but now he’s wondering by how much.

Now it all makes sense. To you, Josh was some cool, older guy. That was the appeal. And he used it to his advantage. He picked you because he knew he could manipulate you. The whole thing makes Eddie sick, especially when he sees that you’re crying now.

He knew it was bad just from what he saw of the two of you on campus and now he’s beginning to think that it was actually much worse. He’s not thinking as he scoots closer, wanting to bring you some comfort even though he’s not sure how to.

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

That last line seems to hit you hard and now you’re sobbing. Eddie scoots closer, your thighs touching now. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you lean into his touch as you accept his hug, burying your face into his neck.

The song ends and Eddie pauses the next one before hugging you again. His hands rub up and down your back as he whispers comforting words to you, unsure why this feels so natural to him. He’s never been good at this kind of thing.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says in a hushed tone. “You cry as much as you want.”

This is years of pent up feelings that you were never allowed to explore otherwise you were being “dramatic” and your parents never would have understood. But here? Here, you feel like you finally have the option to be yourself. You don’t have to put on a mask and hide. If you want to cry, you’re going to cry as much as you damn well please.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as you pull away, shocked by the angry look on Eddie’s face.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry for feeling your feelings. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“Why can’t you always be like this?”

“Like what, honey?” He’s trying his best to pretend like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. If he does then maybe you’ll drop it. You’re seeing right through his facade and he’s panicking. He’s spent years building up this reputation, this wall. And you’ve managed to start tearing it down in a matter of weeks.

“You’re so sweet and thoughtful. You’re so unlike the guy who was texting me earlier. I like this version of you.” He’s fighting back a smile because deep down, he likes this version too. The only other person who gets to see it is his uncle, Wayne.

“What version?” He tilts his head to the side like a little puppy and you ignore the fact that he’s trying to act all innocent.

“The real version. The real you. You don’t have to hide from me, Eddie. You don’t have to act cool around me. You’re not trying to get into my pants, remember?” You lay another brick on the coffee table and he’s close to kicking you out. He doesn’t want you to see anymore. You’ve pulled back the curtain-you’ve taken off his mask. And now he has no idea what to do.

Neither of you seem to realize how close you are to each other. Thighs pressed together. Mouths just inches apart. It’s almost like you could just lean in and-

You’re the one who starts it. It’s a little peck at first, but then your lips slot between his in a gentle kiss. He’s nothing but polite and respectful which catches you off guard. You imagined that kissing him would be all teeth and tongues and roaming hands-not that you’ve been imagining it.

He’s cradling your face so gently, like he’s afraid you’ll break as your hands are in his hair. It’s progressively getting more needy and neither of you seem to notice that you’re now straddling him.

Eddie would never tell you that this is the best kiss he’s ever had and he’s going to think about it for a long time. He’s not going to tell you how badly he wishes he could do this whenever he wants. And he’s definitely not going to tell you that he’s fallen for you. And hard.

You both seem to realize what you’re doing when you moan into Eddie’s mouth when his tongue slides past your lips. He breaks away first and you sit back on his lap, chests heaving. This is so wrong but you look so right sitting there. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He knew that as soon as it did, he’d be wrapped around your fucking finger and look where he is.

He tries to get up and you’re quick to get off of him as he stands. You sit on the couch as he paces back and forth, his hands messing up his hair even more. You’re able to ask him what’s wrong when he turns to you, like he suddenly remembers that you were there.

“You have to go home,” he says with a sudden sense of urgency. God, what has he done? He fucked everything up and now he’s not sure if he can fix it. He was afraid this would happen and now he’s going to have to do something he wishes he didn’t have to.

“Eddie-” You’re trying to get his attention in an attempt to get him to calm down, but that only seems to make it worse.

“Get out!” he yells and your eyes widen, so close to tears. It’s breaking his heart that you’re crying but this is what has to happen. You have to leave right now so he can pretend this never happened.

You rush to grab your things and hurry to the door, tears pricking your eyes again. There’s so much that you want to say but you can’t find the words. You feel like it’ll hurt more if you give him the cold shoulder. Your parents warned you not to get involved with a guy like him and you guess they were right.

The door slams as soon as you get into the hallway and you cry all the way to Robin’s house. This whole thing was a mistake and you know it. The first time you act impulsively and you get burned. As you get into your car, you promise yourself that you’re not getting involved with anyone else. Now is the time to focus on yourself and you’re not going to let anyone-not even Eddie Munson-ruin it.

part one part two part three

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