#so this is kinda is a last hurrah

[naomistares]

crappy sneak peak for next htn comic cus it's the new year and my year wouldn't have been as good without tumblr and it's people

[sysig]

Some days you just have to scribble (Patreon)

[raayllum]

thinking more about fanon s6 and tentatively seeing if i could map it out in 9 chapters (perhaps not as in depth as it possibly could be premise wise, especially with having to juggle everyone's storylines) but... hmm

[ruffgem]

"can we enter the exhibition?" no im just sitting here with the door propped open with a giant sign that says ENTER HERE for no reason

[puzzledemigod]

Ok I did the whole Barbenheimer thing and let me tell you, Barbie wasn't revolutionary or anything, but it did come up ahead. It did what it was supposed to do and, since I managed my expectations before going in, did it in a fun silly way that still left a bunch of possible deeper readings, even if they were sadly left unexplored (and were maybe unintended). Oppenheimer on the other hand left me very angry and disappointed, even if I went there knowing it was an usamerican warfilm so I wasn't expecting much.

I think Barbie and Oppenheimer were equally superficial and obvious with their intended messages presentations, themes and characters, and equally inconsistent with their story threads. But Barbie was about Barbies, was intentionally silly, and had more going for it than the story itself... and Oppenheimer was about one of the real life creators of the atonic bomb, about the ones responsible for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, and about the subsequent cold war and the mess it left us today in regards to the existence and threat of atomic and H bombs.

I think I can safely say one had the responsibility to be a bit more nuanced and careful than the other, and that just did not happen. And no, i do not think there was any actual anti USA sentiment in Oppenheimer, as someone who lives in a Developing Country (TM)and is used to seeing usamerican propaganda all the time there was barely even a scratch of criticism buried in there; our knowledge of history and our own modern sensibilities and morality did all the heavy lifting in that front without the movie having to risk saying anything. Oh did he feel bad while the bombs were being dropped? Did they villanize a guy who went after him for uhh being better than him at public speaking? Did they say he was against the H bomb and was a pacifist now, actually (without showing it much but who cares, tell not show right)? He was still the hero. Not one Japanese person was shown. Not one civilian protest, not one appearance of the communists they were talking so much about after the scenes in the past, doing anything but talking the whole time. He still ended up with a "I love my country" tirade, there was still a haha nod to fucking Kennedy being the one to be on our hero's side. They still showed more scenes of women naked, drunk, cheating on their husbands and being negligent towards their kids than of them doing literally anything else.

The "nuance" and "anti-usa messages" was just a bunch of misplaced and inconsequential internal conflict that did not feel earned in any way, misogyny and random, boring and inconsistent jury scenes (sorry, "hearing" scenes or whatever they called so there wouldn't have to be consistent rules to follow). And the main character was so damn boring. And they didn't even represent the actual science parts well. And the editing was so weird and the flashing scenes didn't fit and were repetitive. And there was a happy ending for some reason?? It was a whole bunch of nothing with music building momentum that never went anywhere in the background of every scene for 3 hours and I wanted to leave the room for how angry it made me that this subject was treated that way and would probably get praised for it.

[linoguy]

hall of fame im kissing you fr............. 😽

[joelscruff]

truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

--

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

--

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

[eversncenewyork]

oh wow

[tojisun]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cxbg0m-rURx/?igshid=MTh0eHFjNnBieXVvaw==

biker!simon x reader <3

TEEHEE YEA YEA when he revved his bike to make the backpack cling to him?? SO CUTE OMG

-

i luv imagining simon teasingly tapping your helmet just to make the sound echo in your ears which startles you. you tap back in retaliation, laughing when simon lets you take the last hurrah, so you you kinda get into the habit of just lightly smacking his helmet when he teases you!!

he hikes his hand higher up your thigh than usual? smack. he pinches your thigh? smack. he lightly flicks at your intertwined hands while you’re tightly holding onto him? smack.

and about the revving? ugh simon loves doing that to you too!! of course he only does that in a safe and controlled environment!!

simon does it when your hands are being naughty, teasing his abdomen and his pecs, before squeezing his tits with a playful giggle. he loves you being clingy and tactile, don’t get him wrong, but simon loves teasing you more :((

so he’ll squeeze at the clutch and pull down the lever, his bike gaining momentum, and simon never fails to laugh when he hears you squeal, teasing hands clutching onto him for dear life.

he deserves the following series of smacks, sure, but simon just laughs anyway before killing his engine so he can step off and soothe you.

“don’t do that again!” you whine, nuzzling to him, still perched on his bike like the princess that you are.

he smiles, all teasing. “but y’r so cute pressed up on me an’ everythin’.”

smack.

-

biker!simon mlist

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #144

*shakes a bag of bird skulls I found in the woodsI and places it on your desk like it's a bag of gold*

I had an idea:

What if the Fenton parents are, in fact very competent Hunters, but they love their children more than their work?

Say the first shot Maddie ever fired at Phanton actually lands, and the scream he makes sounds too much like Danny's voice, to a point even with any ghostly distortion, his own still recognizes the voice.

I can see her pulling Jack to the side, making a ruckus about how the "darn ghost got away just as her blaster ran out of juice". Mostly as a way to get Danny her darling son to leave and go somewhere safe, while his parents have a whole breakdown in the GAV about their dead son.

And so begins the stealthy studies on how Phantom's "human disguise" works, the Revelation of Horrible Truth, keeping tabs on Danny's growth and revising their whole attitude on Ghosts to account for the fact that Danny himself is, at least in some part, a Ghost himself, but all he's done is live his life (and be the little hero Mom always said he'd grow up to be).

Jazz stumbles across his secret and is immediately pulled aside to join the secret "Protect the Baby Ghost" family group chat.

"And what about all the times they shot at him in canon" I hear you ask?

They're damn good shots, but while Maddie can train herself to aim just so that the shot misses just enough it looks like Phantom dodged it, Jack has the Fenton Bazooka outfitted with a tracking HUD that purposely fails to hit everyone's favorite Ghost Boy.

Danny picks up on that, but not on the fact that They Know.

And so begins the single most convoluted training arc ever.

Next time Skulker's in town, Phantom has become untouchable. Not a single shot or electrified net reaches it's target.

(The electrified weapons in particular send the Fentons into a rage when Sam and Tucker finally can't keep hiding it, and come clean about what happened, since the Fentons have proven themselves to be trustworthy)

When Red Huntress comes about, and Valerie Grey becomes barely a distant acquaintance after having only just now started becoming more than a friend, and with the GIW sniffing about, Maddie and Jack pull Danny to sit between them and finally tell him they know, and they want to prove that they'll love him just as much as before, whether Human or Ghost.

Danny breaks down in the safety of his family's love, and takes some time off as Phantom to help his parents establish a proper line of communication with the Ancients, considering they've kinda adopted themselves into the roles of Aunts and Uncles towards their little Ghostling.

Which is a good thing, because in Phantom's absence the GIW make a giant spectacle of destroying several houses while chasing some blob ghosts. They're chased out of town by brick, stone and metal bat.

Next time Red Huntress actually manages to hurt Danny, the Fentons pack up and leave. The Portal can be transported somewhere else. It can be rebuilt.

Their baby boy can't be rebuilt, no matter how much he likes to be a little shit and ignore Reality to quote Shakespeare at his own head (thank you Mr Lancer, for not giving up on him) or "give them a hand".

As Fenton takes the last tour of Amity, Phantom disappears. The Protal has been left seemingly unguarded.

The Ghosts decide to have one last hurrah in Anity Park before Danny closes the Portal, as per their deal. They won't hurt anyone, just cause chaos, but in return Phantom won't stop them. It's not like poor Red has the energy to chase them down, now that she's been "upgraded" into Amity's sole defender (the one time Lancer compares her new lack of sleep to Danny's, horrifying pieces start lining up too well in her mind)

The Fentons move out. Into a quiet farm neighbouring the land that belongs to the delightful couple that are the Kents, and their darling son, little Clark, who stares at Danny mildly horrified whenever he comes by to babysit, or help out with fixing the stubborn tractor. One day under Danny's clever hands, and Jonathan Kent's eagle-eyed gaze, and that damned tractor has never worked so well before. The boy's alright in the old man's eyes, and he makes sure they kid knows it.

After quiet rooftop admissions of one small boy's growing powers (I know Adult Clark is a brick house of a man, but what if he was a little twig while young) and the reveal of Something More Than Human from his honorary older brother, the course of Time sets into it's best version, and an Old Clock smiles, as Superman rises, only to be scolded by Spectre for recklessness.

(Dunno how well it came across, but I'm envisioning Valerie's feelings towards Danny to go from bitter resignation because she " had to" push him away, to horrified despair when the truth starts falling into place. He's her "the one that got away". And it's not like she gave him much of a reason to trust her with his secrets.

Maybe older and wiser Red Huntress gets invited to the Justice League, and has to deal with not just Fenton, but also Phantom flirting with her, after a good long conversation on how dumb they both were as kids, and a mutual vow of "I think I can do better now, and I want to prove it to you")

[carolmunson]

modern!eddie x tipsy!reader

“Ooh, someone had fun,” he giggles from the couch while you stumble into the living room. He knew what to expect the moment he got your texts an hour ago.

omg can’’t t wait to duxk u when i home get t ho home* duck***** fuck u***

tell me they were at least good quality shots

casa migos i

aw come on, i taught you better than that

and wine

yeah? what kind?

.rose?

rosé?

all day lol and espresSo

martini?

😎 ya

sweetheart, did you eat at all?

yes!! we’ee getting za we ate before and now done dri nking

okay, will i see you soon?

ya soon we can sex

He laughed at that one, a hearty belly laugh. You’re only like this when you’re wasted. Clawing and snarling like a starved animal at the sight of him, the thought of him.

When you stumble in you’re lucid for the most part but your eyes are glassy with evidence of a good night. He can tell you smoked too, which means you’ll need more ibuprofen than you normally do when you drink.

You drop your purse and jacket next to the door, kicking off your heels by the TV stand. He’ll pick them up later.

“Hi baby,” he smirks coolly while you make your way to him on the couch.

“I had so much fun,” you respond, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying them off, “But I never wanna wear ‘standing jeans’ again.”

He doesn’t know what you mean by that but he doesn’t ask, just nods, welcoming you with open arms while you straddle his lap. The second your faced dips into his neck he knows your promises of ravaging him are long broken. Your body relaxes, sinking in against his chest.

“I’m glad you had a good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, hand sliding up and down your back. Your breaths come in slow, he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin while you force yourself to stay awake.

“Would’ve been funner if you were there,” you say into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “You make everything fun.”

Eddie’s heart swells, “You think?”

You lean up, looking at him with glassy eyes, more tired than wasted, “I know.”

He leans his head back between the cushions, bangs dusting his eyes, “You make everything fun for me, too.”

You grin, a sloppy one, “You know how I can make tonight really fun?”

Your fingers skate up his chest, sending a shiver through him that stirs in his sweatpants.

“Sweetheart…” he warns gently.

“C’mon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, “Please.”

“Doll, you’ve been drinkin’,” he reminds, reaching up to cup your cheek, “You know I don’t like playing around like that.”

“I’m not drunk though,” you protest, “I can do the drunk driver test. I swear.”

“By the way you’re falling asleep sitting up, I doubt it,” he laughs. He leans up, supporting you on his thighs while he goes in to plant a loving kiss on your lips, “I think we should head to bed.”

“Lame,” you frown, scrunching your face. You shimmy off his lap and cross your arms, walking down the hall to the bedroom.

“Kissin’ me like that like some kinda Cassanova…” you grumble. He rolls his eyes, getting some water and aspirin for you while you change into some pajamas.

“That’s what the call me. Eddie Casanova Munson,” he grizzles, leaning against the door frame with the glass and pills and hand, “Your libations, princess.”

Your sour look doesn’t fade when you take them, but you to say a quiet thank you when the pills pass your lips.

“Am I not fun anymore?” he teases.

“No, you’re still fun,” you sigh, crawling into bed where he follows. Eddie takes a silent win when you wrap yourself around him after sliding between the sheets.

“I’ll be more fun tomorrow,” he smiles, burying himself in your neck. You feel his warm scratchy chin and shiver, soft kisses following it, “It’s gonna rain.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” you murmur, the bed feeling cozier with every passing moment while the alcohol rushes in you for one last sleepy hurrah.

“Yeah it is,” he responds quietly, feeling you grow heavy and slack against him, “We can stay in all day.”

“Boring.”

“Boring huh?” he smirks, “I don’t know, I thought maybe we could revisit your texts.”

[two-white-butterflies]

old money | carlos sainz

Description: He falls in love with a crazy rich asian.

Pairing: carlos sainz/heiress!reader

taglist form

Carlos Sainz never felt nervous when he attended press conferences. He never felt nervous before a race - but he felt nervous meeting your family. He grew up in Spain, he's raised in a European way - and you always told him that the Asian way was different.

"Carlito, they'll love you." you comforted him while taking a casual sip of your champagne. He was surprised to enter the airport and find out that his first class seats were upgraded to business class. Courtesy of who your family was. "I don't know how to act around them." he buried his face in the plane provided pillow.

"Hey, we practiced this a thousand times." you added with a playful smile. Your family was going to love him. Yes, he was an outsider but he played a sport that they could actually boast - unlike your sister's boyfriend that was always on reserve. "I'm so nervous," he chuckled.

Carlossainz55: MAD🇪🇸 to SIN🇸🇬 ✈️

1283 comments 238,233 likes

ketchupmustard67: Ariana what r u doing here 😭

kelseyjaja: OMG YOUR IN SINGAPORE???? AAAAAAA

Carlos couldn't believe that you were this rich. He always assumed that money wasn't a problem with you - but he didn't realize that money will never be a problem to you. He tried to buy an apartment in Singapore a few years ago - but he turned it down after realizing how much it costed. After stepping inside your family's penthouse. He couldn't believe how much it costed.

"You're early," your mother smiled - wrapping you in a warm embrace. "Yes, I was under the impression that there's going to be a flight delay - but thank god that there wasn't one." you mumbled, breaking free from her vice-like grip. You leaned into Carlos' body. Placing a hand around his back while you pushed him closer to your mother.

"This is my boyfriend, Carlos." you greeted and he was quick to mumble strings of appreciation. He complimented the house - then your mother's outfit. He was getting all the brownie points.

He let out a sigh of relief when your mother welcomed him inside. He removed his shoes, thanking the maid when she handed him a clean pair of plastic slippers. "We bought this house shortly after Y/N went to college. She's the last one to leave the nest. I was happy because we could finally buy nice things." your mother took a jab at you.

"Feel at home, dinner will start soon." she smiled, leaving the both of you while she walked inside the kitchen.

Carlos was awe-struck.

He adored your mansion in Turks and Caicos. He adored your endless rants about how Bruce Willis used to own the island, but now he couldn't help but adore you. He couldn't help but believe that he was making the right choice - you were humble. He liked that.

"The entire apartment is wow," he whispered in your ears.

"Yep, mama got some help. My grandmother's sister-in-law is an interior designer - but I kinda wished that she asked for my help." you giggled, leaning deeper into his touch.

mysecretaccount55: he met mama's crusty musty dog.

9 comments 192 likes

frederic.arnault: his name is oreo ! - mysecretaccount55: wow i didn't know that 🤣

cheskaarnault: Will be there soon. Please tell mama to wait for us. Sun is still out, dinner is at seven. - mysecretaccount55: nah y u starving me.

notcarlossainz55: Oreo bites 😂 - mysecretaccount55: he has no teeth

Your family was the black sheep of the old money community. You were the only family that seemed to be private and public at the same time. It all started when your older sister, Cheska, married that Arnault guy - it was all anyone could talk about. From Brunei to Palau - all they could talk about was how Frederic's family was the opposite of humble.

'The boy has money, but they're too showy with their wealth.'

'Money can't buy name.'

Your parents assumed that the last hurrah would come from your younger sister, who is currently engaged to a mid-tier basketball player. But they were wrong - because Carlos Sainz was about to enter the frame.

"You play for Ferrari, right?" Frederic inquired while the music faded in the background. "Yes, you were there last time right?" your boyfriend inquired, memorizing Max's complaints about some stuck-up rich dude. "Ahh, oui. It was fun." the man nodded.

"He's not even that kind of french." your younger sister whispers.

You couldn't help but giggle.

Oh, this was going to be eventful.

"That went well," you hummed - walking out of your parent's apartment with newfound joy. "Tiring but surprisingly well," he placed your hand in his pocket.

"I had fun." he smiled.

[loveandleases]

"Say you want me" For cam 👀

Hey~ It's been so long since I've done a prompt. Thought this prompt list was a good way to get back into it, Below the cut~ (Going to go with college Cam and MC here. This got kinda long...)

“Are you coming or not?" His voice is hushed, as he stares at you from the opposite side of a chain link fence.

You don't know why you followed him out tonight, you don't know why he's this drunk. You shared a beer and a half, now finding yourself running from a frat party.

He always gets, for lack of a better word, brave when he's had a drink. 

"Cameron Clarke, get the fuck back here!" 

The voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you hear the footsteps getting closer.

You panic slightly, finally climbing over the fence. When on the other side, your eyes meet that of Laron, social chair of Sigma Chi.

You feel your hand being gripped and pulled before your brain can catch up, your lungs burning as Cam leads you across the street making twists and turns around buildings, a few stray college kids having one last hurrah before the upcoming graduation.

You finally come to a halt, bending over to catch your breath. Your heart pounding hard in your chest.

Cam's laughter is just a reminder of the night, one of the last few before you start this next chapter of your lives. 

 Cam already secured an apartment for himself. Nestled in the city, not too far from your aunt's house. "Just in case she needs me." 

You can't help but smile at the sentiment, knowing that's not the only reason Cam will be living in that area.

He finally stops laughing, sitting down on the cold concrete between the two buildings you find yourselves standing near. 

"That was amazing. I've never seen you climb so fast. Not even when Auntie's dog tried to get your candy bar."

You shove him as you sit beside him, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, letting your heart calm down.

"What the hell did you do to get them so mad?" You turn to look at Cam, finding he is already looking at you.

His eyes widen, his cheeks red, must be from the running. At least that's what you tell yourself. He clears his throat, but scoots closer to you. Shoulder to shoulder, and hip to hip. His scent is one that's familiar and comforting.

You swallow hard, must be thirsty from the run. At least that's what you tell yourself. 

Cam takes his phone and holds it close so you can see. 

"What? It's just a picture of us from finals week."

"Look closer." He instructs, leaning closer into you if that is even possible. 

You scan the photo. Cam and you stand outside the library looking as if you hadn't slept for a week. Which is quite possible considering how hard you studied for your last exams. Cam's arm wrapped around your shoulder his head leaning against yours smiling ear to ear. Yet you notice he wasn't looking at the camera, instead looking at you.

"Geez, right there look." Cam's voice interrupts your thoughts as you follow his finger to the corner of the photo.

You squint slightly but sure enough, it's Laron and...who is he kissing...wait...holy.

"No way!?" You say rearing back to turn to Cam, whose eyes were staring somewhere close to your lips. You don't miss the dimple on his cheek, the way his heterochromatic eyes look along the lines of your face.

"Yeah, Professor Flynn. I pulled my phone out and he saw it earlier, and said he was going to delete the photo. So I punched him and ran."

Your eyes widen looking to the phone and back to Cam. He was always protective of the photos he took. Didn't matter what the quality was or if it was good enough. To him, they were important, memories. 

"You punched him?"

Cam smiled his eyes crinkled and nodded before leaning it on your shoulder. "I couldn't let him delete a part of us. I don't care who he's making out with. Maybe next time don't get in my photo."

A part of..us? 

When you don't say anything Cam looks up at you, your face inches away from each other. His hand reaches to your cheek, wiping under your eye gently. 

Subconsciously your eyes close, and you lean your face against his hand, against his warmth. His finger stalls, just long enough for you to notice. 

To notice you leaning in, his breath warm against your face. Long enough for you to pull away if you want. Yet, you don't.

It's the alcohol. Your lips part slightly. He hesitates. looking over your face. Hesitates, just long enough.

But you barely drank. Your breath catches in your throat.

It's the alcohol. His lips press against yours, warm, and soft. 

Lips that have told you the secrets of his life, the secrets he buries deep in his heart. Lips that have supported you every time, every step.

You grab his wrist, clinging to him. Returning the kiss tenfold. He moans a sweet sound. An alluring sound. 

You don't stop as his tongue flicks against your own. Asking for permission. Asking for acceptance. And you grant it easily, as your back presses against the building. His hand slid to your hip, holding you tight.

He pulls away, and you force yourself to hold back a whine. Opening your eyes you look at him. His are heavy with want, with desire. 

"Say you want me." It's quiet, meek in a way. You could hear his voice quiver when he said it.

You look at him, truly look at the man before you. "I.."

"Clarke!" 

You both turn frozen, seeing Laron turning the corner and staring at you. Fuck, this is not going to be good.

It was the alcohol.

[rhysdoesstuff]

My thoughts on TUTS Newsies!!!

It’s a long post folks, so here you go:

First of all, holy shit was that show good

Second of all, here are my thoughts about the show, in a mildly unordered manner-

During Carrying the Banner, the top part of Crutchies crutch broke off, so he spent the rest of the song, and a bit into the next scene hobbling around with the broken crutch until he could leave stage and get it fixed (they all did such a great job ignoring it) (I also feel it’s worth mentioning it got broken when Jack used it to beat up the Delaney Brothers)

When the Newsies found out the price of papes was raised, and were trying to figure that out, Wisel kept having to deal with Newsies moving towards the paper station, then backing away, and it was funny to watch him grow more and more frustrated with them all.

During one of the songs, Davey carried Les around on his shoulders for a bit and I loved it!

MEDDA. She is an absolute powerhouse of a singer and I love her. A very Very powerful voice, that I adore and love. Plus her outfits are phenomenal. I love them.

During That’s Rich, there was a man onstage watching it, and every time the name Frank was said, it was said to him, and he had such funny reactions to it all!! 

I don’t know if it was intentional, but when Kathrine went on her tangent about “Like someone said, "power tends to corrupt, and absolute power" she did a little voice, and it sounded a bit like Pulitzer, and now I headcannon Pulitzer saying that to her, and her using those words against him.

During the last few seconds of Santa Fe, as Jack is hitting that final amazing high note, the projection behind him turns from the dreary city streets to a bright and vibrant painting of Santa Fe and a sunset, and it was beautiful, but it was only there a few seconds before blackout and intermission. I loved it though.

Right before King of New York when Davey announced that they “launched the strike in a most auspicious manner” and no one cheers, there was one person who gave a little Hurrah, and that was Mr. Jacobi, who was walking offstage after dropping off the water. It had the audience laughing and I loved it.

Before the Watch What Happens reprise, when Davey asked Jack if what he is painting is Santa Fe, he says Santa Fe in a sing song voice, and he removes his hat as Jack does at the end of Santa Fe, and that was amazing to watch.

Jack, when he is painting during Watch What Happens Reprise, he puts on a red shirt over top of his undershirt. Then he leaves stage and that shirt is never seen again and I’m so confused at why it was there. I loved it, but then he was right back into the amazing blue shirt- so. Yeah.

THE FEMALE BRONX NEWSIE. We love her! I was able to track her through the show, she was in the other group Newsies numbers as well, and was doing an amazing job!

Also, Race. Let’s talk about Race. I absolutely loved him. He was so tall. Taller then everyone else (except maybe Davey, cause he was tall too, though I’m not sure as tall as Race)

In addition, I’m not sure if it was bad shadows, or intentional, but it kinda looked like Race had a black eye? Which would be in character. It’s probably my bad eyesight making it uncertain though. Also! Race’s elbows were all red after the fight. No other Newsies had as noticeable injuries. 

SPOT!!! SPOT AND ROMEO WERE PLAYED BY THE SAME PERSON. They did amazing with both characters, but I spent so long staring at Spot going, wasn’t that Romeo? Until I checked the program and went, Wait, that was actually Romeo! I’m not going insane!!

THE DANCING!!!! They had different choreo from Broadway which I loved. It was wonderful, I loved it so much, and everyone did such a good job. They were doing flips all over the place, and I’m not even sure what I saw half the time, but I know it was good.

The lighting was amazing, and I loved how it was used to set the energy level for each scene!! Also, the projections were beautiful, and paired wonderfully with the amazing set, which was rearrangeable!!!

Pulitzer had a really thick accent, which wasn’t fully New York. I can’t quite place what it was, but whatever it was, it was noticeable, and that made it funnier when Jack mimicked him at one point.

At the very end of the musical, when Jack buys papes and decides to stay, Kathrine buys papes too, and goes to celebrate with the Newsies, and someone puts a newsies hat on her head, which was adorable and which I loved.

[howlonomy]

Idea for dt clover monster

1- 6 shooter, where the board gets split into 6 sections and you have to remember how the rounds were loaded into it

2- buckshot, where clover will shoot the board with a shotgun but the rounds fan out like the astral dreamer attack

3- lasso and lazer where the board is lined up with a double barrel shotgun and the soul is tied to the center having to avoid each shot from each barrel

4- clover will slowly move their talons in and you have to fire at them to keep them away

Beyond that I’m not sure, maybe they use their wings to block attacks?

yall are way more creative than me with this kinda stuff AHDJSJCN but ill add my own thoughts!!

YELLOW ATTACKS; If you get hit with one of DT!Clover’s yellow attacks, your HP gets sucked out and used to heal DT!Clover instead (similar to Ceroba’s red attacks).

1) Six Shooter —> Russian Roulette: In a very similar vein, you watch a (yellow colored) round be loaded into a revolver; you have like half a second to react to a reticle being put on your soul before it’s fired and it’s either a live round (normal bullet attack) or a yellow round.

2) Buckshot: Huge shotgun attacks that explodes into stars. The stars explode into SMALLER stars. Very bullet hell.

3) Prey: Similar to Ed’s attack, you have to avoid Clover’s talons grabbing you; if caught, you are stuck in one place and aimed at by either feathers, stars, or revolver shots. Very difficult to move and avoid attacks if caught.

4) Blackhole: Extending their wings, their inner wings turn into the void of space, sucking you to the top of the battle box. You must avoid swipes from their claws or shooting stars coming out of their wings.

5) One Last Hurrah: Similar to Zenith Martlet’s attack where the screen goes huge and she flies towards you (idk the name lmao); Clover’s tail splits into four; they slam it into the battle box, yellow shards spraying. The main attack is DT!Clover’s SOUL charge up an attack and shoot towards you. They swat your bullets away with their tail, you can’t hurt them during this attack.

EXTRA CHALLENGES: As the fight goes on, lighting surrounds attacks that have things to do with DT!Clover’s physical body; such as their talons or wings. Extra damage, and occasionally yellow! A lot of simpler attacks also overlap, like how Zenith Martlet has like 3 different attacks going on every round. Things like TNT explosions, gunpowder lines you have to avoid (or else it will explode), and gunshots that shatter the battle box into segments (so you’re stuck in one section unless you take damage to move through the cracks).

You would have to aim for DT!Clover’s soul with bullets to hurt them! No other spot would damage them; just their soul. idk how all this would work in an actually game but this was fun to theorize and think up >:]

[latenightsimping]

Nothing Else Matters (Part 2)

Summary: After Jason’s plans to break you and Eddie up backfire, you go on your first date and go back to his trailer afterwards for yet another first. (You can read part 1 here and part 3 here!)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word count: 7,548

Warnings: Porn with plot 18+ MINORS DNI I’LL CHASE YOU WITH A BROOM, you guys go on a date and it’s kinda cute, mentions of parental neglect, Jason Carver is an absolute shitheel but we get him back, reader is Jason Carver’s little sister, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, protected sex (wrap it up kiddos), fluff in the first half pure hedonism on the second, not beta read

AN: Thank you so much for all the love you gave the first half!! I hope you like the second half; I worte this and thought ‘hm is this a bit flowery?’ but I decided to keep it as is because first times tend to be more about emotions and feelings, if you want one where I focus more on the act itself please lemme know!! Also I have read all your replies and reblogs, and thank you so much for all of them! Unfortunately this is a side blog so I can’t reply easily ;w; But I do read and cherish them all!! I really wanna write more of this ngl, so keep an eye out for that!!

taglist: @awkwardambition

Eddie had escorted you to your class, stealing as many kisses as he could until you playfully pushed him away with a grin on your face and telling him to get to his own lesson. He threw you a mock look of hurt as he clutched his chest, making you giggle as he walked backwards down the hall and towards where he should be. You slipped in quietly, trying to ignore the stares of curious students as you mumbled an excuse about not feeling well to the teacher as you made your way to your assigned seat. It was lucky that you had a ‘good girl’ reputation, Miss. Click seemingly buying it and letting you know that you could leave if you felt unwell again. Continuing her lesson on the Renaissance era as you found your notebook and pencil case.

A small stirring of pleasure rolled in your gut at the fact that you’d got away with a small act of rebellion, your mind wandering as you drew absent-minded doodles in the margins of your notebook. It was satisfying, being able to slip under the radar like this with the full knowledge that not so long ago, Eddie’s tongue was teasing your own as his ringed hands skated across your ass in such a delightful tease. Everyone around you thinking that you were paying attention to the lesson and being a studious nerd, when you were really thinking about what you were planning on doing when you finally got back to the trailer that felt more like home than anywhere else in the world. Eddie was forbidden fruit; delicious, tantalising, something that you craved desperately. Something that you were going to finally let yourself indulge in, and ruin that ‘girl next door image’ forever.

As much as you were excited, you were also nervous. This history lesson and the English class afterwards were going to be your last hurrah, and what would it mean to be forever changed in the societal structure that was high school? It was likely that your friends would want nothing more to do with you, and Jason would probably make it his mission to make your last year a living nightmare. But on the flip side of that, you would finally get your wish to sit at the Hellfire club, with Eddie’s arm around your waist as you sat in his lap or his hand in yours if you sat beside him. He’d told you all about his friends, and from what he said, they were pretty nice guys. Just misunderstood, and ostracized over a shameless enjoyment of their hobbies. You’d only had a very small conversation with Dustin and Jeff so far, but they didn’t seem judgemental. Protective of their friend, and guarded? Yes. But who could blame them? You would probably be the same, in their position. This change would be a lot, but it was also a chance to finally be able to breathe without the weight of your last name on your shoulders. The sword of Damocles finally falling between your feet, instead of splitting you in two.

You made your way to the last class in a daze, your mind working overtime as you took your seat and chewed on the end of your pen. Brave, Eddie had called you when he complimented you between kisses. And you’d kind of glossed it over, being too wrapped up in the feeling of being adored. But you really pondered it, as you tuned out the explanation of the themes of Dante’s Inferno. You’d never considered yourself to align with that adjective. What was brave about being under your family’s thumb for pretty much all your life, acting exactly how they wanted you to and always putting yourself second? But now, with Eddie’s words still ringing in your ears, you could finally see it. You were brave, going against the grain and choosing your own destiny by dating him. Even though it was unknown to anyone else, it was still you who snuck to the trailer park to see him. It was you who wore the bracelet he gave you every second of the day, wanting to be reminded of him every time you looked at it. It was you who was going to go to the diner with him, and take that step into the abyss, knowing he would be the one to catch you. You had been acting brave all this time, and he was the only one to see it so far. And you loved him all the more, for the fact that he believed in you.

He was waiting by his van by the time you made your way out to the parking lot. Leaning on the side panel, hands in his pockets and meeting your eyes with a lopsided grin when you spotted him. As you passed, you felt a hand grab your bicep none too gently, turning your head to be greeted with Jason’s face contorted in a scowl.

“Where do you think you’re going? Car’s this way,” he sneered, tilting his head to his side where his car sat idle. Chrissy was in the passenger seat, a small look of worry evident on her features as she watched the two of you have your slightly heated exchange. If the day was like any other, Jason would have booted you out of the back seats about five minutes away from your house, making you walk the rest of the way back so he could spend alone time with his girlfriend. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Chrissy, per se. She had never said anything mean to you, and she always looked at you with a sort of pity, whenever Jason was flexing his control over you with one of his stunts. She was under his spell, and you knew that. Perhaps she saw a side of him that nobody else saw; invisible to the naked eye. You hoped it was the case, for her behalf. Secretly hoped that one day, she would see sense and dump him.

It was knowing that Eddie had eyes on you, and would have your back without hesitation, that ignited the powder keg of anger and fuelled your next actions. Yanking your arm out of his grip, you squared your jaw towards your brother, willing yourself to not crack at his narrowed eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not coming home with you today,” you told him, voice even if not on the slightly quiet side.

“What? Just get in the fucking car,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes darting around to probably view the audience that this was no doubt attracting. “I’m not asking.”

“I know.” When he got angry like this in the past, it would have made you cower. Your will bending to him, scurrying behind and knowing full well that when he got home you’d be in for a good hour long lecture about how he expected you to listen. That was before he pulled the note stunt, though. Without meaning to, probably not even knowingly, he had officially broken the straw on the camel’s back. You couldn’t help but smirk as you adjusted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder. “I have other plans. I’m going on a date with my boyfriend. So, if you don’t mind…”

Turning on your heel, you didn’t give him an opportunity to get the last word in as you made confident steps towards Eddie’s van. He had a look of victory evident in his eyes as he pushed himself off the van with his foot, taking a few strides towards you to meet you. His arms coiled around your waist, picking you up and spinning you in a couple of circles that earned him a surprised squeal as his lips found yours. Your arms flew around his neck for purchase, holding on tight as he let you down, still kissing you as he did. You knew Eddie well enough that he would absolutely want to rub salt in Jason’s wounds, and by putting on the dramatics of kissing you with such grandeur, you also knew your brother well enough to know that it had worked without even having to look.

You pulled your lips away from his, though still held onto his neck as a grin spread across your face. “Happy to see me?” you teased, earning you a chuckle that reverberated through his chest.

“Happy? Sweetheart, I’m constantly overjoyed whenever I see that pretty face of yours,” he crooned, a hand coming up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. Not once did his gaze leave yours, seemingly not giving a fuck about anything else. It was nearly almost like this with him, though. Eddie gave you his full attention every chance he got, and you wondered if it was similar to how the sun felt when people were happy with it’s presence.

You hummed contently, only pulling away when he nodded his head towards the van in questioning. He followed you to the passenger side, a hand on the small of your back as he opened the door with the other. “My lady,” he said with a low bow as you got in, making you giggle as he closed the door and sprinted back toward’s the driver’s side. You took a moment to look towards the school entrance, noticing that Jason was already in his car a few rows away from it. His whole body animated as he talked with his hands, face as red as sapphire as he yelled. Your heart sunk for Chrissy, who admittedly looked a little frightened. But, she made her bed. One day, you would talk to her about the relationship, and hopefully make her see sense. Then again, that was unlikely. All you could do was try.

“Alright, what’s the vibe for today?” Eddie asked, snapping you out of your reverie as you looked back to find him trailing calloused fingers over the tapes practically overfilling the centre console where he kept them. “We goin’ for Metallica or Iron Maiden?”

You smiled, knowing full well that he chose those two options based on the fact that they were your favourite so far. “It’s gotta be Piece of Mind, right? As long as you crank it loud.”

“Ugh, it’s like I wished for you on a shooting fuckin’ star or something,” he groaned, plucking the cassette you requested out of the pile and wasting no time in feeding it into the slot after he turned the ignition. The van came to life, the sounds of the mechanical workings being drowned out by the first song as he twisted the volume dial up further. As he pulled away, you managed to catch Jason’s eye, his mouth still hanging open as he stared at you. Grinning as much as you could manage, a hand came up to flip him off, no doubt the Munson brand of mockery being rubbed off on you. Even over the song, you could hear Eddie laughing at your antics.

...

The diner wasn’t that busy, considering school hadn’t long let out and some clubs were still in session. Most of the patrons were the elderly of those on a late shift, barely any of them paying you any mind as you slipped into the booth. Eddie came to sit opposite you, a smile never leaving his face as he tapped his calloused fingers onto the tabletop. “Any idea what you’re craving, pretty girl?”

You hummed in thought as you pulled a menu from the holder beside the window, eyes scanning over the options as you gently bit the inside of your cheek. After a couple of seconds, you gave him a bashful smile as you placed the laminated booklet down. “What are you gonna order?”

Though you’d been to this diner before a couple of times, there was underlying nerves over the fact that this was the first date that you’d actually ever been on. And the fact that you were going in blind? What was even the etiquette for it? You’d read a handful of dating tips in magazines, but none seemed fitting right now. Your knee bounced as you tapped your heel on the linoleum as quietly as you could.

If Eddie could tell you were nervous, he wasn’t showing it. He looked down at the menu in front of you both, tapping on a picture with a skull and cross clad finger. “Well, I think their burgers are fantastic. Probably gonna go for a cheeseburger with extra pickles.”

You grinned as you leaned your cheek against your palm, elbow propping yourself up as you leaned on the table. “How much extra pickle we talking?”

“As much as I can get away with,” he nodded. “Love ‘em. Always have.”

You made a mental note of that little fact, already putting it in the ‘facts about Eddie’ box that was beginning to accumulate a lot of random information. “You can always have mine too, if you want them.”

His eyebrows raised as he tilted his head. “You don’t like ‘em?”

“You like them, so you can have them,” you countered, your words causing a small blush to dust his cheeks as he tucked his lower lips between his teeth. It was the adoration in his eyes that made you truly melt, and you decided that liking pickles or not, you’d spend the rest of your life picking them out and putting them on his plate, if only to see him look at you like he was.

The sounds of footsteps coming closer made both your heads turn, greeted with a small smile from the waitress as she brought her notepad out of her apron pocket. “Alright guys, what can I get you?” she asked as she clicked her pen, placing the end on the paper to await your order.

You both ordered; two cheeseburgers and fries, a chocolate milkshake for Eddie and a vanilla one for yourself. You thanked the waitress, looking back to Eddie who was giving you an unreadable expression. Happy, yes. But there was a small wrinkle to his brow that usually signalled he was thinking hard about something. “What?” you asked, your voice soft as you smiled.

“Just can’t believe I’m here with you,” he shrugged, arms folded on the table as he grinned. “Been dreaming about this for months.”

“Really?” you giggled, head tilted to the side as you regarded him. “You dreamed about being in a diner with me, eating cheeseburgers?”

“I’ve dreamed about us being like any other couple,” he clarified, a hand coming up to twirl a dark curl of his hair between his fingers. “Diner dates, maybe a trip to the movies… Just being together, out in public.”

You nodded in agreement, holding a hand out in offering. He took it, fingers laced between your own as he started to rub soothing motions on the back of your hand. “I’ve always had this like, dream date,” you started, eyes widening a little as you realised that you might have offended him. “N-not that this isn’t one of them! I love it here, and I love this-”

His earnest laugh cut you off, shaking his head as he grinned at you. “Tell me all about it.” His words held nothing but fondness, the words you perceived as something of an insult not bothering him in the slightest.

You relaxed a little as you let out a soft sigh of relief, your eyes lowering to the speckled tabletop as you shrugged. “I uh… I’ve always wanted to go to an aquarium. We were going to go once, me and my family, but Jason had a last minute basketball game that weekend. So my parents said we’d go another day, and we just… Never did.”

When you looked back up, his face was slightly scowled. “So your folks just drop everything when it comes to you and focus on him?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It sucks, but… That’s just how it’s always been, you know? I’m just used to it by now.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he shook his head. “Well, that ain’t happening on my watch. My girl wants to go to an aquarium? We’re going.”

Your eyes widened as a smile spread over your face, blinking a few times as you gently squeezed his hands. “Really? You mean it?”

“’Course,” he said with a small wink. “Just lemme save up for a little bit and we’ll go, okay? Promise.”

You wholeheartedly believed him. One of Eddie’s many good qualities was that when he said something, he meant it. Not once had he ever let you down; if he said he’d be there to pick you up from your house a couple of blocks away to take you to his place when it was raining? Sure enough, his van was already there idling when you turned the corner. Not once had he ever lied to you, or went back on a promise. He was loyal to the bone, and you knew that he would make good on his word, and you’d be holding hands while pointing out sea life before you knew it.

“What about you?” you offered. “What’s your dream date?”

“Baby, I’m already on it,” he laughed, eyes crinkling with the intensity of his smile. “My dream date is being literally anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

You rolled your eyes, though the look of annoyance you made was nothing but playful. “C’mon, you gotta have one. Anywhere in particular you wanna go?”

You gave him a couple of seconds to think, before he finally nodded as he chewed his lip. “I uh… I’d like you to come and see me play with my band. I guess it’s not technically a date, but…”

“It totally counts,” you nodded, heart racing at the thought of seeing him play, letting him see you in the crowd and know that you were the one cheering the loudest. “I’d really love to. Tuesdays, right? At the Hideout?”

There was a look of pure bliss that overtook him, most likely because you’d remembered what he told you. “Yeah. Maybe next week? I can pick you up at 6?”

“Deal,” you grinned, picking up your interlinked hand and shaking them in a mock handshake. He laughed at your action, still smirking as you both pulled away as the milkshakes appeared on your table.

The rest of the meal was spent in conversation between bites, about anything and everything you could think of. You’d taken the pickles out of your burger before you ate it, putting them on his plate and earning you a grateful smile of thanks from your boyfriend. It was so easy talking to Eddie. No matter what you said, even if he’d probably heard it all before, he nodded along and asked you questions and anecdotes relevant to the topic. Plus, he made you laugh. He could crack a joke, and your tummy would hurt with the amount of amusement. A couple of teenagers from your school had filtered in during your meal, but you barely paid them any mind. It felt as if nothing else existed outside your booth. Just you and Eddie, in this little bubble of bliss that you’d created together. An oasis in a desert, both truly comfortable with each other’s company.

When it finally came time to pay, you had a small back and forth about who was going to foot the bill. You had insisted paying for your food, but Eddie was having none of it. “Keep your money, pretty girl,” he said with a wave of his hand as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket. A cheeky grin on his face as he opened it to find a couple of notes. Another one of his qualities, that was both admirable and drew your ire depending on your situation. Eddie could be stubborn, especially when he put his mind to something. You knew that you wouldn’t win this argument, but you were already thinking about finding a way to sneak it to him without his knowledge. Most likely tucking it into his pocket when he wasn’t looking. You knew he didn’t have a lot of money; most of his income was selling pot, and the occasional shift at Thatcher’s Tires to help Wayne cover the bills. Part of you wondered if all those reasons were why he had difficulty graduating. Between two side hustles, his band, the DnD campaigns and needing a decent amount of sleep, was it any wonder that he had absolutely no time to study? As well as a scheme to pay him back, your mind was already filled with ways to help him academically by the time you were halfway across the parking lot to reach the van.

When you got to his place, you wondered if you should make a call to your house, just to let your parents know where you were. No doubt Jason had spun a yarn about the situation, making himself look like the victim. Honestly? You weren’t ready for the drama. You were having a good time, and nothing was going to ruin that. You had a curfew, and that was hours away. You could face the music when you got home, and could try and convince your parents about it all then. Besides, when Eddie kissed you as soon as the door to his trailer closed, all worries slipped away like sand between your fingers. When he made you feel this good, it was impossible to think of anything else.

He pulled away from your lips, his hands gently on your waist as he tilted his head. A gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “What’s the plan, sweetheart?” he asked, a slightly raised eyebrow in questioning. “We could watch a movie, if you want. Or we could read, or-”

“I wanna do it,” you blurted out, interrupting him before you chickened out. You could feel your whole face growing hot, tips of your ears no doubt a deep shade of pink as you bit your lip. But you could also feel that stirring in your core, at the possibility of it all.

His eyebrows shot up as he blinked a couple of times, mouth opening and closing a few times as he let out a nervous laugh. “Define what ‘it’ is, baby. Need to hear it.”

Taking a shaky breath, your hands found his shoulders as you pressed your chest to his, eyes fluttering shut to try and focus on speaking. “I uhm… I wanna h-have sex,” you finally managed to stammer out, a soft gasp leaving you and eyes opening when you felt his knuckles tip your chin up gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, a small look of worry in his features. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. We can take it slow, if that’s what your comfortable with.”

You were starting to get a little frustrated. Eddie was a gentleman, and you knew that he’d never pressure you. You knew that he was only asking because he respected you. But right now? Right now, you needed him to quell that growing, aching need that coiled in your gut. You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours in a kiss that was filled with passion. Trying to non-verbally communicate to him just how badly you wanted this. When your tongue flicked against his lips, you felt him groan as his grip on your waist tightened, mouth parting to let you in.

You pulled away, though barely an inch, feeling his breath fan against your dampened lips. “Please,” you whispered, eyebrows knitted together. “Please Eddie, I need you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp as his eyes darkened in need, pupils blown out as he nodded. “Okay, sweetheart. But we can stop at any time, okay?”

You nodded, and his smile widened as he let go of his hold on you to place your hand in his. Leading you to the bedroom, he briefly stopped to turn on the stereo, Ride the Lightning playing at a low volume as he guided you to lay down on the bed. Your head rested against the pillows as he lowered himself on top of you, forearms bracing his weight on either side of your head as his legs slotted between your own. His head dipped down again to kiss you, and the intensity was something you’d never quite experienced. He’d kissed you breathless before, but this was different. It was passionate, intense, and full of yearning. It made you quietly mewl as you cupped his face with your hands, one threading through his curls as he swallowed back your small sounds of pleasure.

His lips travelled down to your jaw, peppering soft kisses to the warm skin as they continued down to the column of your neck. His teeth grazed a spot that made a gasp catch in your throat, causing you to arch your back in heady pleasure as he gently rolled it between his incisors and soothing it with a lave of his tongue afterwards. “Fuck, Eddie please,” you whimpered, your hands coming up to grip the back of his shirt as you rolled your hips. What you were asking for, you had no idea. All you knew was that nothing had ever made you feel so good; nothing could compare to his touches, his lips on your skin leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You could feel his hardness against you, pleasure skittering up your spine at the sensation of his cock against your core.

“Gonna make you feel good baby,” he murmured against your skin, head dipping down to kiss your collarbones. Pressing one final kiss to the top of your breast, he pushed back to rest on his haunches, his fingertips brushing against the bottom hem of your shirt as he raised an eyebrow in questioning.

You quickly nodded, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as his large hands smoothed up your stomach, pulling the fabric with it. He was taking his time, causing your breath to hitch as he finally helped you remove the piece of clothing that acted as a barrier between you. As soon as it hit the bedroom floor, he reached back and pulled his own shirt off, leaving you practically panting as you took in his topless state. The inky black tattoos that littered his pale skin, slender framed yet with muscles that flexed when he moved, no doubt from years of hauling heavy music equipment around. You’re beautiful, you thought, though your eyes grew large when he chuckled, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks. You’d said it aloud, though barely above a whisper. Evidently, loud enough for him to hear.

“Taking the words right out of my mouth,” he drawled with a soft smile, capturing your lips again as a large ringed hand travelled the expanse of your stomach. It was as if he was mapping your skin; memorising every dip and curve, pausing when he found a spot that made you mewl underneath his lips.

His kisses descended again; skittering over your sternum, shifting his weight onto his knees so both hands could softly cup your breasts over your bra. You gasped as he softly bit the flesh, soothing over the pain with the flat of his tongue in a way that was such a heavenly combination that it made your back arch. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured, voice slightly muffled as his lips continued to move against you. A hand came to reach under your back, deft fingers making quick work of unfastening the clasp. You took the initiative to slip the straps down your arms, pulling off the item to be thrown beside your shirt. You noticed how his eyes darkened in need, a soft growl catching in the back of his throat as he laved his tongue over your nipple, rolling the other between his fingertips.

You let out a soft curse at the sensation, your hands running through his long hair and grasping it to pull him closer. Your needy actions seemed to fuel him, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it as you bucked against his hips. Every nerve ending seemed to be on fire; the coil in your core twisting in the most pleasant way. It was as if he engulfed you in ecstasy; he was pulling you under the surface, making you gasp and ache for more, and you found yourself needing more. He would alternate his attention on each breast, switching between his skilful tongue and fingers, pressing soft kisses in between sharp nips of his teeth.

“More, please,” you pleaded, needing to know what else he could do with his talented mouth. You felt him smile against your skin, dragging his tongue down your stomach as he shifted to lay on his stomach and crawl at an agonisingly slow pace down to where you truly needed him. You could feel your wetness soak your underwear, feeling as if you would truly go mad if he didn’t continue.

“What’dya need, pretty girl? Need to hear you say it.” The corners of his mouth upturned as he kissed your inner thighs through the thick denim of your jeans, palm soothing the other that his mouth wasn’t latched to. A part of you wondered if he enjoyed it when you practically begged him for more. And an even bigger part of you loved to indulge him.

“N-need you to use your mouth on me,” you whimpered, trying to ignore the flush of your cheeks as you focused on speaking, on keeping your breaths even. Your brows furrowed as you bucked your hips, a soft whine escaping you as you clutched the sheets underneath you with a fierce grip. “Need you to make me feel good.”

“I will baby,” he promised, the hand leaving your thigh to unbutton your jeans. “Just need you to do one thing for me, okay? Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as he shed your lower half free of clothing. At this moment, you would do anything he asked. Fuck, if he asked you to commit a crime with him, you’d probably agree. You’d do anything to be bathed in the sheer rapture that this moment gave you. “Wh-what?”

“Need you to not hold back on those pretty noises for me,” he answered, punctuating his words with a kiss to your innermost thigh that had you reeling. You felt his hot breath fan your cunt, and heard an audible groan that you swore you could feel. “So fuckin’ wet for me, angel.”

You keened as he licked a flat stripe across your clit, hands flying to grip his hair as he drew languid circles over the bud. You could feel your muscles slightly tense as he covered your cunt with his mouth, the moan that he released causing vibrations to shoot right through your core and causing your thighs to clamp down, hindered by firm hands on your thighs. Eddie seemed to be taking his time; alternating between soft kitten licks and firm strokes, occasionally sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it in quick succession. It was like he was experimenting with what would make you cry out harder, what would make your grip on his hair tighten and cause your legs to shake as your back flew off the mattress.

The growing tension in your gut was so close to snapping. And with the addition of a finger, then two, slipping deep inside with little resistance, all it took was a curl that massaged a spot inside you that you weren’t even aware of to finally tip you over the edge. You tried to warn him, but all that came out was a cry of pure pleasure as you finally unravelled. It was as if you were coming apart at the seams; bathed in an overwhelming warmth that was indescribable, your mind turning fuzzy as your eyes fell shut and mouth opened into a silent scream. You bucked into his mouth, uncaring in the moment that you were shamelessly riding his face, an act of pure hedonism that furthered the blissful, heady sensation of your first powerful orgasm. You’d tried to pleasure yourself before, but never quite got to the finish line. But if this was what was waiting for you when you finally managed it? You’d do near anything to feel like this.

You finally floated back down to Earth with hard pants, slowly opening your eyes as his fingers and mouth slowly came to a stop and moved away. Taking your hands out of his dark curls and bringing them up to rub at your face, you let out a small giggle as you felt his hips connect with yours.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” he whispered into the shell of your ear, his torso gently leaning against yours as he braced his weight with his forearms on either side of you. When your eyes finally adjusted, you could see his deep umber eyes flicker over your features, a small grin on his glistening and puffy lips. From so close, you could see every detail of his face. The small scar on his hairline, and the slight stubble just forming on his jawline. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful piece of artwork he’d ever seen. Looked at you with such fondness, such reverence, that you had meant what you had said in the woods, and had said in your heart all along. You loved him. Truly loved him.

You nodded as you looped your arms around his neck, pulling into a kiss that you hoped would translate how much you cared for him, how much you truly wanted him. The kiss was soft; tongues exploring mouths, wandering hands exploring each other’s bodies, and your hips rolling against his own. “Need more,” you mumbled through the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth descended to the column of your neck. “Please, Eddie. Please…”

He came back up to look at you, his nose pressed against your own as his eyes softened, yet a hint of a furrowed brow was still evident. “A-are you sure? We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured. We can stop, and cuddle, and-”

There was the rambling again, that little habit that both endeared and slightly frustrated you at this moment when you needed him so badly. Interrupting him with an experimental roll of your hips, you watched as his breath caught in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as you pressed yourself against his hard cock underneath his jeans. “I want this,” you whispered, your voice steady and even as you nodded your head. Eddie was on top of you, but you felt like you had all the control. Knowing that you could say one word, and he’d drop his pleasure just to make sure you were okay. It gave you the power to make your final decision.

His features spread into a lopsided grin when he realised you were positive, shifting his weight over to the side of the bed to open the drawer in his bedside table and rummage through the contents. You watched with interest, biting your lip with a small smile when you saw a square foil packet appear between his fingertips.

Clutching the condom wrapper in his teeth as he undid his belt – no doubt an image that would be forever burned into your brain at the eroticism of the sight – watching with eagerness as he slid his jeans and boxers off. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock; you’d not actually seen one in real life, but you knew he was big. Thick and slightly on the longer side, with a few prominent veins running up the shaft and the tip leaking precum. Your pussy clenched at the sight of it, and you swallowed back a small gulp as you watched him carefully tear open the wrapper with his teeth and begin to roll the condom over his cock.

“Is it… Going to hurt?” you asked softly, remembering how one or two of your friends had complained about how sore they were when they finally lost their virginity. Though you were excited beyond belief, there was a small pang of apprehension, a sense that you had bitten off more than you can chew.

“It might sting a little,” he answered honestly, making sure the condom was secure before leaning back over you. “But you’re really wet, and you’ve already come, so that’s going to help. And I’ll be really slow, okay? I won’t start moving until you tell me to. And if you need to stop-”

“I’ll tell you,” you finished for him, a small smile on your face as you watched him mirror your expression.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pecking a kiss to your temple as he lined himself up with your hole. “I’m going to start, okay? Just relax your body for me.”

You took a deep breath, holding onto his shoulders as you adjusted your hips a little. You felt him press against you, the tip of his cock gently stretching you open as he passionately kissed you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed in further, a small whine leaving your lips as you felt a slight burning sensation. It was a little uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would. Not when he was being so slow; so attentive to your body, stopping when you let out a sharp gasp, and only sinking in further when he felt your hips slightly rock at the desperation for more.

You felt him shudder as his hips finally met yours, a low groan audible by your ear as you tried to get accustomed to the feeling of fullness that you’d never experienced before. It was overwhelming in the most incredible way; you could feel everything, could hear the soft groans that he let out as he kissed your temple, every slight shift of your body as you squirmed underneath him causing skitters of pleasure to shoot up your spine. “You okay?” he whispered, voice cracking slightly as his grip on the bedsheets beside your head turned knuckle white.

You frowned a little, wondering if he was uncomfortable at all. Though it was clear he was worried about your comfort levels, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as you lifted your hand to smooth your fingers through his hair. “It feels good, but… Are you?”

You saw the small grin spread across his face as he came into your view, dark eyes near black with his pupils blown out. “Sweetheart, ‘m trying not to come already.” Your heart warmed that even in the moment, when you could see him trying so hard to hold back his own needs just for you, that he was still trying to put you at ease with his usual brand of confidence. But you wanted him to come undone; to see him fall apart, just as he’d seen you. You wanted to see that side of him, wanted to feel that closeness that two people who had explored each other’s bodies felt.

You made an experimental roll of your hips, a soft gasp falling from your lips as you felt his length drag across your walls, that spot that he’d discovered with his fingers being massaged by the tip of his cock. “More, please,” you managed to whisper out, keening when you felt one of his hands grasp your hip as he made slow, languid thrusts that had your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Y’ feel so fuckin’ good,” he murmured, breath catching in his throat as he pressed his forehead against yours. “So tight, fuck.” Through your haze of ecstasy, you marvelled at how his face was screwed up, mouth parted that let out soft pants. It spurred you into meeting his thrusts with your own, the discomfort that had been there in the beginning now completely gone, replaced with a blissful, heady sensation that had you reeling.

The only sounds in the trailer were the sounds of your bodies meeting, soft mewls and moans disrupted by the kisses that he lovingly pressed to your lips, music that you could barely make out when your mind was so fuzzy and blissed out. You could feel that coil beginning to become tight again, more intense this time, causing you to cry out as he shifted his hips and quickened his pace. “Gonna- God, gonna come Eddie,” you whined, brain short-circuiting when you felt deft fingers make tight circles on your clit.

“Come f’ me, angel,” he groaned, thrusts becoming sloppy as his fingers on your hip tightened, an added sensation of slight pain that mixed with your pleasure. Your back arched, pressing your chest to his own as you felt yourself clamp down on his cock and letting out a near scream as your eyes screwed shut. You thought the last climax was intense, but this was the next level. Your thighs clamped around his hips and white dots filled your vision, your hands that were on his shoulders now scratching down his ribs as your nails dug into his flesh, trying to find some sort of tether to the waking world. You felt him bury himself impossibly deep into you, small whines and gasps audible with his lips by the shell of your ear as you felt him twitch inside of you. You both reached your peaks, a tangled mess of limbs and covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt his body collapse onto yours. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as he grunted with exertion and rolled off you, onto his back.

“Christ,” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face and a grin being revealed to you when he took them away. He made quick work of pulling off the spent condom, tying a knot in the end and tossing it towards the trash bin on the other side of the room. Thankfully, it went in, and you laughed at his small fist bump at the good shot.

Finding your way into his arms, you relaxed against his chest as he held you tight, shifting your bodies so he could pull the sheets over your both. “Thank you,” you managed to say, drawing absent-minded patterns into his pectoral muscle with your fingertips.

“It should be me who’s thanking you,” he chuckled, kissing the crown of your head as his grip on you tightened, as if yearning for more contact, as if that was even possible. “You’re perfect, you know that? Fuckin’ perfect…”

You couldn’t help but preen under his compliments, as you always did. Though this time, it felt so much more intimate. Laying naked, so entangled you weren’t sure where you ended and Eddie started. Still glowing in the aftermath of your orgasms, feeling so loved and adored as he peppered your face and body with kisses. Worshipped, you think is the word. And you loved it.

Looking over to the small alarm clock on his bedside table, you made a noise of annoyance as you tried to sit yourself up. “Curfew’s in an hour,” you mumbled, not wanting to leave this solace that you’d both created.

His large had flattened onto your sternum, a playful grin overtaking his face as he propped himself up onto his side to look down on you. “And your place is fifteen minutes away,” he countered, raising an eyebrow. “So… We still got fourty-five minutes.”

You chuckled, pulling him down over you as you looped an arm around his neck, your other hand on his cheek as you kissed him. “What can we do in fourty-five minutes?” you wondered aloud, a sudden yelp of surprise leaving your lips as he manhandled you into his lap, your knees positioned on either side of his hips.

“Baby, I can do a lot in that time,” he purred, resting his forearms on the small of your back as he looked up at you, features morphing into a look of slight pleading as he tipped his head to the side. “But just… Stay with me for a little while? Please?”

And how could you say no to him, when he was looking at you with such adoration? “Okay,” you whispered, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose as you got yourself settled. You coiled your arms around his neck, pressing the side of your face to his chest, hearing his heartbeat and soft hums as he sang along to the melody of the background music you’d long forgotten about. Enjoying the way he smoothed his hand up and down your spine, lulling you to close your eyes and take deep, even breaths as drowziness caught up with you.

Would falling asleep be wise, considering you had a time limit? Probably not. But the way you were so comfortable, so content in his arms, feeling so safe… Fuck curfew. You’d face the consequences later.