#surge cola

[tornado1992]

Surge and Kit won’t even get a chance at this rate cause this guy’s gonna be killed by DIABETES

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twenty

Summary: The aftermath of CB & Peter's weekend away.

Warning: Mean Bucky is back.

Word Count: 1039

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: I'm so sorry this one took so long to come out and it's only a short one. OH ALSO, we have @scraftsku35 to thank for this one because they changed the characters fated while we were discussing this chapter. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez4

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

You sat with Natasha and Wanda on your couch that following Monday evening. Steve and Sam were engaged in a playful debate across the room as Bucky quietly observed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips while Alpine snuggled into him. 

After a few moments, Wanda exchanged a mischievous glance with Natasha as she stood before disappearing into the kitchen. Your eyes widened as she returned with a cake, reading the word “Virgin” written on black icing with a red prohibited symbol across it. The room fell silent as she walked over to you, handing you the cake, a sly grin spread across her face. 

“Congratulations, CB!” Natasha exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Your face turned as crimson as the icing as you took the cake. You glanced around the room. “What is this?” you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Well, after we heard about your little weekend with Peter,” Wanda chimed in, her laughter infectious. “We thought you might appreciate a bit of humor, it’s just a little joke.” 

Sam burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as he made his way over you. “Oh man, this is too good!” he laughed, wiping tears from his eyes as he took the cake from your hands. “You guys went all out, huh?” 

Suddenly, a bitter laugh was let out over by Bucky. “Peter? The so-called gentleman? Oh, he’s always such a nice guy…” Sarcasm dripped from his voice as a smirk mashed over his face. “Bet the twink only got two pumps in.” 

A surge of defiance coursed through you as you decided to go along with the charade. “Actually, Bucky, Peter was amazing,” you said, you tried to keep your voice steady as your heart raced. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

Steve’s face darkened, his haw tensed as his eyes blazed with barely controlled anger. He didn’t say anything but his protective instinct was evident. The furious look on his face spoke volumes. 

Bucky’s smirk faltered before he made another sarcastic comment. “Well, I’m glad you had your fairy tale moment,” he muttered, standing up and wandering over to the kitchen. 

“Oh, it was magical…” you trailed off, “I just, I couldn’t take it all… if you know what I mean.” 

His smirk returned, though it was colder this time and his eyes darkened. “Sure, we all know Peter’s got that ‘magic touch’.” Opening the fridge, he rummaged through its contents searching for another beer. His eyes landed on a six-pack of canned cherry cola, pulling it out, he turned to face you. 

“Cans?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You hate it canned. What’s it doing in your fridge?” 

A pang of guilt dawned over you, knowing Peter had bought it for you without knowing you only liked it from glass bottles. “Peter bought me it,” you replied nonchalantly. “It was a nice gesture.” 

His grip tightened on the can, and his knuckles whitened. “Of course he did,” he muttered, putting the cola back and grabbing his beer. 

Natasha and Wanda exchanged glances, and their joking demeanor shifted to one of concern as they noticed the growing tension in the apartment. Sam, still chuckled to himself at the dining table while stuffing his face with the cake. Steve, remained silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on you– A storm brewing behind them. 

As Bucky returned to the living room, he took a long swig of beer before flopping back on the couch. “You know,” he began, his tone laced with sarcasm, “if Peter is so great, maybe he should’ve bought the right cola.” 

Anger surged through you as Bucky continued with his jabs. “At least Peter tries to be nice,” you snapped back. “What‘s the matter? Are you only a ‘two-pump’ kinda guy? It’s okay if you are, I’m sure Leah doesn’t mind.” 

His smirk turned icy. “Yeah right, I always get my girl to finish.” 

An unexpected pang of pain cut deeply into your heart at the use of ‘my girl’. Scoffing you were determined to maintain your facade. “Only once?” you questioned. “Not that it’s a competition, James, but Peter got me to finish three times…” 

The tension thickened in the room, his smirk wavered as he tightened his jaw. Steve’s silence was deafening. Standing, his presence commanded the room, and its attention. 

“That’s enough!” Steve’s voice cut through the room, booming with a sharp edge, simmering with restrained rage. “Come on, Bucky, we’ve got to go.” His expression left no room for debate as he looked over at Bucky. 

With one last glare toward you, Bucky stood, draining his beer before resting the empty bottle on the coffee table. Too consumed with his own emotions, he missed the quiet meow in protest from Alpine. 

Steve didn’t say a word as he opened the apartment door, his eyes burnt with anger. 

The room was left in an awkward silence, the laughter and teasing from earlier now a distant memory. Clearing her throat, Natasha spoke up trying to lighten the mood. “So, Peter was that good, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know, I couldn’t go through with it,” you admitted quietly, the lie weighing heavily on your chest. 

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what? What do you mean?” she asked, concern tinged in her voice.

You sighed. “I didn’t sleep with Peter,” you confessed, your gaze dropped to Alpine as she brushed her head against your leg. “I pretended I did because Bucky was annoying me, but…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain the mess. 

Natasha’s expression softened as she reached over to squeeze your hand, reassuringly. “It’s okay,” she said gently, “he was being a jerk.” 

“Hey Wands, where’s this cake from?” Sam’s voice was muffled but cheerful, he startled you as you thought he left with your brother and Bucky. “I want some for the next time I get–” 

He paused mid-sentence, noticing the absence of Steve and Bucky. He hastily swallowed the cake in his mouth, his head turned toward where the two had previously been sat. Frosting remained around his lips. “Wait, where’d Steve and Buck go?” 

Suppressing a sigh, Natasha and Wanda exchanged a look, realizing Sam had missed the entire drama. 

---

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[cowboyfromh3ll]

OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

MX

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

MX - Deftones

[geniousbh]

laurinha, como você pensa que os meninos do cast (tanto os coroas quanto os pivetes) reagiriam a uma lobinha quase chorando com vontade de dar, pedindo encarecidamente enquanto encara eles com os olhinhos cheios de lágrimas pra eles colocarem um filho nela? o terrível e assustador monstro do breeding kink está se manifestando dentro de mim nesse exato momento (tô ovulando

você falando "monstro do breeding kink" eu me lembrei daquele meme muito idiota do "ai se vc nao cobrir o pé o bicho papão come ele" e ai o desenhinho dormindo com q bunda de fora aaa😭😭😭😭 (as vezes é bem complicado ser cronicamente online desde os 11 anos de idade amgs) enfim🥸

com o felipe é praticamente o mesmo efeito de cheirar uma carreira de pó. ele fica alucinado, acho que vários fatores contribuem pra isso, primeiro que você é a primeira namoradinha séria dele, o resto era coisa de ficar ou só marcar de transar - e ele óbviamente sempre transou com camisinha nessas situações, sequer se passava o contrário na cabeça dele. e apesar de estar te notando mais manhosa e fogosa nos últimos tempos ele praticamente engasga quando tá no sofá com você sentando pra ele bem gostosinho e ai para, erguendo o quadril e deixando ele escapar, segura na pontinha do preservativo e puxa até arrancar. "vida, não sei se-", "amor... eu preciso que você encha minha 'cetinha", e a boca dele faz assim 😧, ele balança a cabeça fazendo que sim e olha pra baixo quando você engole o pau grandinho de novo. vai perder as estribeiras sentindo >seu< interior assim pela primeira vez e depois de uns dois minutos te deixando ditar o ritmo vai inverter as posições e passar a te foder com força. os olhinhos dele observando o anel de porra que tá formando na base dele. vai te perguntar só pra se certificar "quer ficar lotadinha de porra?", recebendo um "uhumm" arrastadinho seu. goza pra caralho, literalmente, vai sentir as bolas murchas depois, olhando pro teto da sala (existe um pipe antes disso e um pipe dps)

o esteban te ouve pedir isso faz um tempão, mas ele é muito responsável, smp contornou os pedidos te enchendo de mimos e carinhos ou então sendo um pouco mais cruel e perguntando "se o que ele te dava já não era suficiente". mas depois de noivarem - lê-se, depois de ter a mais pura certeza que você é a mulher com quem ele vai compartilhar a vida pro resto desta☝🏼 - algumas coisas começam a mudar. mas, é só num dia específico em que você e o kuku tinham passado a tarde no apartamento de um casal de amigos que acabou de ter filho que surge a grande necessidade nele. te ver segurando o bebê todo miudinho no colo, e te ouvir falando naquela vozinha fina resultou nele te beijando com vontade no elevador do prédio onde vocês moram quando voltaram pr casa. "nossa... que isso?", você consegue perguntar quando ele se afasta pra seguirem pro apartamento. mas ele tá tãoo tantanzinho da cabeça que não te responde. eu não acho que ele seja muito vocal tho, só as vezes, entretanto quando tiver te fodendo, vai arrastar a boca pra sua orelha e dizer que você ficaria tão linda grávida toda roliça e sensível e que acha melhor vocês começarem a tentar porque he's dying to see it. vai te lotar até que esteja literalmente transbordando e vai continuar socando mesmo quando ambos estiverem super sensíveis.

na minha opinião, pro matías é indiferente ATÉ o dia que acontece - mesmo que você já tenha expressado que breeding é um dos seus kinks nas infinitas conversas que vcs têm lombrados. vocês praticam o coito interrompido há tempos, ele costuma gozar na sua púbis e quando tá muito excitado, chega até na sua barriga. e ele tem quase tanto medo de ser "pai na adolescência" (porque sim matías recalt definitivamente se considera adolescente aos 22 anos de idade) quanto você (que também não é adolescente). mas num belo dia vocês - acostumados na maconha e na coca cola - decidem comprar um vinho muito suspeito pra tomarem juntos. e juravam que não ia bater... quando viram, estavam fodendo no chão da sala, sem camisinha, sem nada, apenas muita fé. "não vou conseguir tirar...", ele sussurra todo ofegante, "não tira, matí, goza dentro, por fi", arranhando as costas e envolvendo a cintura dele com as pernas. ele revira os olhinhos te ouvindo pedir e vai fazer exatamente isso, dedando seu grelinho pra vocês conseguirem gozar juntos e ele te estocar bem fundinho a última vez, derramando cada gotinha no colo do seu útero. ia cutucar seu baixo ventre reparando que tá inchadinho e depois meio que ia ser o doente do breeding - é a cara dele baixar aquele app de ciclo que fala os dias menos propícios de engravidar e te mandar um print das datas com um "😏💦"

e por último vou falar dele... (sighs) simón hempe. ele nunca teria te negado isso. quer ficar cheinha da porra dele? pq nao? mas ele seria um canalha puto sobre isso. vai te foder sim, independente se no dia estiver lentinho ou se fizeram igual dois animais no cio, no momento em que você olha assim 🥺 pra ele, ele já sabe o que significa. "quer ficar estufadinha, vida?" e você - que já perdeu a capacidade de falar - vai assentir. quando ele goza vai parando aos poucos com os movimentos do quadril e então sai de você, ficando de joelhos, segura uma das suas coxas afastadas e aperta sua buceta como se os lábios fossem uma bisnaguinha, fechando, mas ainda vendo vazar os fluídos esbranquiçados "olha só como é gulosa essa buceta sua..." provoca te fazendo ficar toda choramingosa ali debaixo dele "se você ficar se remexendo vai deixar tudo escapar, amorcito...", e ai se curva pra sussurrar no seu ouvido "e ai eu vou ter que te foder tudo de novo, hm?". vai te provocar sobre isso sempre e digo mais, se vocês brigarem por algo que ele considera idiota ele vai lançar um "tá maluca, é? gozei tanto dentro que a porra foi pro cérebro?" (i love meanie simón vey)

[fastcardotmp3]

Nancy Wheeler needs a steadier set of hands.

It’s a vital thing, the steadiness, and one which she’s prided herself on for a long time now, but in this moment? On this endless night? Nancy needs a steadier set of hands.

She stands along the wall, close to the door because it’s crowded beyond measure in the double-wide trailer that’s used primarily as a med center and because it’s hard enough to breathe during this conversation without direct access to an exit.

The fingers of her right hand tap against the side of her thigh, a discordant rhythm which her ballet instructors of her youth would have disparaged on the spot. Stay in time, Nancy! Don’t be so hesitant, Nancy! Did you forget how to count, Nancy?!

Her fingers tap, but the beat of her heart is not much better at keeping consistent time, so what is she meant to count along with? Where is the pace being set? Where is the music to guide her through this moment as her unsteady hands reach into the bag slung across her body and pull out a bottle of lake water, black as pitch and viscous?

Where is her partner in this pas de deux as the glass clatters with the uncontrollable force she uses to set it down on the table at the center of the room?

“Jesus Christ.”

“That’s our drinking water?”

“It looks like— like fuckin’ Venom.”

“What the hell is Venom, Henderson?”

“From Spider-Man? Symbiote alien from another planet and—”

“That’s our drinking water?”

Nancy stands against the wall.

She watches and she listens as they pass the bottle around, the glass face boasting Coca-Cola loud enough that it almost really does just look like a bottle of flat soda, and she chooses to let them bicker.

There was a time, some many months ago now, when Nancy would have walked in and at the very least pretended at enough confidence and certainty to convince everyone she had a plan and they would all be okay and they wouldn’t all die of thirst because the Upside Down and the entity controlling it has finally decided that direct action against their resources might be more efficient that sending monsters through the gates has been so far.

There was a time, indeed, when Nancy might have even felt such confidence, such certainty, but she can't remember that sensation now.

Not a sensory memory within her reach, not a modicum of cautious optimism born from a girl who had not yet learned the undeniable yearning of loss.

Nancy is here, as Joyce forces them all into some semblance of focus, kids and adults and the meeting of the two alike, but Nancy is also there.

Nancy is sixteen again, making a choice which changed her life, a choice she weighs in her hands during every moment of quiet, during every moment of noise too. If she had gotten in the car with Barb, would they have been able to outrun the forces of the Upside Down together?

Would Nancy simply have been dragged to her death with her best friend instead?

Is she fucked in the head for thinking both of those options may have been better than the reality?

“We need Max,” El is saying, arguing back against the sudden surge of insistence to fight. “When I can get through to Max, then we will have the upper hand.”

She says it a little stilted, a turn of phrase she's heard more than she's used, one which she likely only knows in this specific context.

Jonathan is standing beside her, close enough to offer visible support.

Eddie has a finger looped through the belt at Steve's waist, doing the same.

Robin sits beside Erica, Lucas on the other side of his sister, and Dustin pacing in the small space behind the couch.

Nancy leans against the wall by the door.

“We can't just wait around,” Steve shakes his head, almost in apology. “Vecna or— or the other thing, whatever's in charge at this point— it's making a play, right? That's what's happening? It's going on offense and we can't just keep playing defense, we have to actually make a play back.”

Nancy feels a headache brewing behind her eyes, clenches and unclenches her right hand in a fist to try and find something like stability. Fails at it.

“We've been holding our ground long enough,” Robin agrees with him boldly, “we understand how to fight back. If we catch him by surprise...”

“But can we? Catch him by surprise?” Lucas now, deep bags of grief under his eyes which Nancy understands all too well.

She wishes for him to never understand it as well as she does.

She wishes for a lot of things.

“He's baiting us,” Dustin shakes his head. “We tried that game with— with Max,” a thick swallow, “and he's mocking us with it. We should wait. We aren't ready.”

“It doesn't matter whether or not we're ready,” Nancy hears herself speaking and the way all those eyes turn on her is the sort of being seen she's avoided all her life.

Ever since she was a child, she hasn't been able to stomach people pretending to know her. Ever since she was a child it's been a form of control, a form of expectation, another set of rules she's had to conform to and she's goddamn tired of it.

She's really just so tired.

“It doesn't matter,” she shrugs, crosses her arms and grips at her biceps so no one can see the way her hands shake. “We'll never be ready, but if we wait long enough we will get weaker because we won't have water and we won't have food and it will be winter. He'll freeze us out before we can even try. It doesn't fucking matter.”

Things are escalating where the people of Hawkins are still trapped in the wasteland. In the midst of it, Nancy Wheeler finds catharsis, and maybe even hope. sequel to "that's just wasteland, baby!"

Ronance | 15.5k words | rated E

read on ao3

[renjunplanet]

| Transar no escuro... Mark Lee

atenção. linguagem imprópria, secso sem proteção, um quase sexo em publico. tava escutando essa musica queridissima e do nada me surge a ideia de escrever com o mark baseado nisso e bah... escrevi mas nao desenvolvi legal. era pra ser uma songfic maior, mas nao sei escrever smut :D

A verdade era que Lee adorava ver o que fazia com seu corpo durante o ato, pois achava que a performance em conjunto era melhor do que a sensação por si só. Mas, você gosta de transar no escuro.

Porque no escuro, para você, as coisas fervem mais.

E de fato ferviam, porque o canadense, já que não poderia admirar direito seu rosto manhoso se contorcendo de prazer, ele aproveitava para ser mais bruto e mais explorador pelo seu corpo.

— Você é tão má... — profere baixinho, com a voz rouca — Você passa por mim, finge que não me conhece. — puxa sua cabeça para trás segurando em seus cabelos, ele cola suas costas no peitoral coberto por uma camiseta preta qualquer do figurino que usava, enquanto encosta os lábios em sua orelha, sussurrando — Finge que nunca foi tocada por mim e ainda ousa me provocar... — ele movimenta o quadril com força, desferindo um tapa violento em sua nádega — Ousa me trazer novamente para o vestiário do camarim, enquanto o show lá fora acontece... Você é tão má...

— M-Mark... — você responde manhosa, engasgada na sensação de estar sendo comida de quatro, com o quadril volta e meia tendo impacto com a mesinha branca que apoiava os acessórios, já que o canadense poupava gentileza nas estocadas.

— S-Só cala a boca, hm? — ele pede, segurando firme em seus quadris, estocando mais rápido — Já que eu não posso te ver, deixa eu te sentir... — se você pudesse olhá-lo, com certeza veria os olhinhos se fechando forte e os lábios entre os dentes.

O tempo que ele tinha já estava no final, precisava gozar rápido para voltar para o show. Não tardou muito para que isso acontecesse com os dois.

— Eu só queria ficar um pouco mais a vontade... — ele diz ofegante, ainda dentro de você — Queria te deixar mais a vontade... — você sente ele saindo de seu intimo, vira sua cabeça olhando para o rapaz ajeitando as calças — Mas, você parece ter vergonha de mim... E isso me chateia.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 8

In the Wind's Singing

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings and tags: fluff; bonding; discussions of autopsy/corpses; Coca-Cola is canon in Star Wars; no, I'm not joking; SMUT; masturbation

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The strike team returns from scouting Balmorra.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

Voices are in the wind's singing

More distant and more solemn than a fading star.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The hologram flickered off, and Rex stared thoughtfully at the empty space where it had projected. Slowly, he said, “I want you to start looking into the clone assassin’s identifying code. Find out how it was wiped, and see if you can replicate the process.”

Cerra  wrinkled her nose. “Does that mean I’m going to have to dissect his arm?”

“That’s for you to find out. I know you’ll do whatever it takes,” Rex said. “In the meantime, I’m grounding you for a few days. No sparring, no supply runs, no missions until your hand is healed.”

She felt a surge of impatience, but his tone brooked no argument, so she simply nodded. Some battles were simply not worth fighting, and she knew Rex would win this one anyway. 

“I need to leave this afternoon to meet with a contact,” Rex continued. “Will you be all right alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Hand isn’t that bad.”

“Good,” he said. “Then you can get started on that ID code today.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” she said with a mock salute.

Once Rex was gone, Cerra opened the stasis pod and examined the dead clone assassin’s forearm. Unlike the inhibitor chips, the identifying codes were not an implant; instead, the data was coded directly into the clones’ wrists. Nothing on the surface indicated how the ID data had been wiped. There was no scar, no wound—nothing except cold, smooth, brown skin. When she scanned it, a hologram appeared, but the contents were empty. She had a sinking feeling that she was going to need to remove the skin and examine it under a microscope to learn more.

Mechanical repairs were no problem for Cerra, but she was wildly unqualified to undertake any kind of medical examination, let alone an autopsy. For the thousandth time, she wished Kix were there. She worried that she would compromise the evidence, and the longer she had the stasis pod open, the more the clone assassin’s body would degrade. With that in mind, she sealed the pod again and began researching autopsy techniques on the Holonet. She watched autopsy vids for what felt like hours with a kind of gruesome fascination, barely noticing when the proximity sensor alerted her that the freighter had returned.

Echo, Fireball, and Gregor entered the garage to find Cerra sitting cross-legged on the couch, utterly engrossed by a vid projected from the holotable as she ate from a promising-looking container. Echo’s stomach rumbled.

“Boys,” she greeted them without looking up.

“Something smells good,” Echo said.

“I got takeout from Dex’s,” she said. “There’s more in the kitchen.”

“Is that brualki brisket?” Gregor asked.

“Yeah, I got extra for you,” she said. “There’s also brakkenback stew, nerfburgers, and two orders of each kind of protato on the menu.”

A woman of taste, Echo thought, heading to the kitchen to examine the options.

“Ugh, what are you watching?” Fireball demanded.

“Autopsy vids,” she mumbled around a bite of brisket.

“While you’re eating? Gross,” Fireball said.

“Gotta figure out what to do with our friend over there,” Cerra said, pointing at the stasis pod. “Besides, it’s not like I’m eating directly off a corpse.”

Echo pulled a face. Gregor went to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets until he found a small medkit. Then he swiped the remaining container of brisket and a bag of fried protato wedges and flopped down next to Cerra on the sofa. 

“Next time, you can buy dinner, and then you get to pick the holovid, Fireball,” Gregor said. “Cerra, did you take your antibiotics?”

“What antibiotics?” she asked distractedly.

“That’s what I thought,” Gregor said drily. He extracted a couple of pills from the medkit and handed them to her. “Take these.”

Cerra automatically took the pills and swallowed them, then handed Gregor a tub of glockaw sauce without taking her eyes off the holovid. “Ooh, look, they’re about to peel off the skin!”

Fireball gagged. Gregor dipped a protato wedge into the sauce and popped it into his mouth, chewing happily. Echo looked down at the container of stew he’d selected, and his stomach lurched, cheeks going even grayer than usual.

“I, uh, think I’ll hit the shower,” he said, setting the stew back on the countertop.

Cerra and Gregor didn’t respond, too immersed in the holovid. Despite himself, Fireball drifted closer, leaning over the back of the sofa with his eyes glued to the vid. He absentmindedly reached for a protato wedge, and Gregor slapped his hand away. Cerra wordlessly handed her half-empty bag of shoestring fries to Fireball. 

Echo shrugged and headed to the refresher. He took his time in the shower, knowing that the rest of the group was likely to be distracted. The hot water relaxed the muscles in his back and soothed his aching limbs where his prosthetics connected. His mind drifted to Senator Chuchi—Riyo, as she’d insisted he call her. He couldn’t imagine the beautiful, gentle Pantoran watching holovids of corpse dissections. When Rex had opened the stasis pod to show Echo and the Batch the clone assassin, Riyo had carefully avoided looking at the man’s face. She hadn’t become desensitized to death and violence the way Cerra and his fellow clones had, but she was fearless, even in the face of Rampart’s attempts on her life.

She was so lovely. Sweet, but strong. As he pictured her smooth, cerulean skin, her soft lilac hair, and the subtle curves of her body, he felt his cock stiffen. Seizing the rare moment of privacy, Echo soaped up his hand and began to stroke himself, careful to keep silent. He braced himself against the shower stall with his scomp arm, tilting his head back to let the warm water flow over his neck and chest. 

He envisioned Riyo around him—her mouth, her body, her sighs of passion and her enveloping warmth, her wide golden eyes glazed with need. His breath became ragged. It had been months since he’d been with a woman, he was acutely conscious that any of the team could walk in at any moment. Gritting his teeth to hold back his groans, he squeezed harder and increased the speed of his hand. Before long, the surging pleasure overwhelmed his control, and he spilled hot, white jets of cum onto the shower floor.

All his breath left him in a rush, and his head sagged to rest on the arm that braced against the shower wall. The water started to run cold, so he finished washing and toweled off, dressing quickly and returning to join the others.

Echo suppressed a laugh when he saw Fireball sprawled on the sofa with the other two. The two clones had removed their armor and now wore only their black body gloves. The holotable was cluttered with empty wrappers and takeout containers, and somebody had filled a bucket with ice and several bottles of ale, two of which Gregor and Fireball were already drinking. Echo noticed that the bulky bandage on Cerra’s hand had been replaced with a neat bacta patch, and the medkit had been put away. The group had turned raucous, and Fireball kept up a running commentary on the vid.

“You call that a primary incision?” he jeered. “I could do better blindfolded, with a vibrosword!”

“If you’re so confident, maybe you should do the autopsy,” Cerra said.

“No thanks,” Fireball said. “It’s one thing to watch a holovid. It’s something else when it’s a brother.”

“I know,” Cerra said. “That’s why I’m not drinking. Gotta keep my head clear so I can focus on the techniques.”

Echo grunted as he heated up a bowl of stew. “I can’t believe you’re still watching that. Why not put on something like the Great Galactic Bake Off instead?”

Cerra twisted around to look at him. “You’re a Bake Off fan? Have you seen this week’s episode yet?”

“No. I usually watch it with Omega,” Echo replied.

“Hmph, Charo Intan was robbed last week,” Gregor grumbled.

“You’re just saying that because the Sullustan got Galaxy Baker,” Cerra teased.

“His technical bake was a disaster!” Gregor exclaimed. “The judges are out of their minds.”

Fireball listened to the exchange with a look of utter bewilderment. “What are you even talking about?”

Three heads swiveled to stare at Fireball.

“You haven’t heard of the Bake Off?” Gregor asked incredulously. “Do you live under an asteroid?”

Fireball shrugged.

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Cerra said, punching the control panel of the holotable. “Prepare to lose your sanity and any hope of a social life.”

Echo was surprised at how nonchalant Cerra seemed, especially after the previous night’s disaster. He took his bowl of stew to the sofa and nudged Fireball out of the way as he sat down. It was a tight squeeze with the four of them, so Cerra scooted onto Gregor’s lap to make room. Fireball picked up her legs to drape across his thighs.

Echo couldn’t quite figure out what was going on between Cerra and Gregor. He had assumed they were a couple when he’d first arrived, but he had second-guessed himself when their obvious affection for each other never seemed to go beyond platonic demonstrations. But Gregor’s reaction to Cerra’s distress the previous night; the tender, intimate words he’d whispered as he comforted her; and in particular his anomalous hostility toward Rex made Echo reevaluate his assumptions yet again. But now the commando seemed utterly unfazed as Fireball joined their little snuggle pile, even as the younger clone settled in cozily beneath Cerra’s calves.

Fireball rolled up one of Cerra’s pant legs and began to doodle on her skin with a marker, drawing complex, abstract swirls in black ink. The familiar opening jingle of the Bake Off started to play, and Echo gave up on trying to unravel the complexities of—kriff—whatever was going on at the other end of the sofa, turning his attention instead to the holovid.

Once again, it seemed Echo was the odd man out. It seemed strange and wrong to watch the show without Omega, and he missed his brothers’ familiar camaraderie. He didn’t think Cerra was intentionally excluding him, but he couldn’t help feeling a little stab of envy at how easily she and Gregor had allowed Fireball into their little circle. The younger clone hadn’t needed to work for it at all; they’d simply absorbed him. Echo frowned as he wondered if he had done something to make Cerra hold him at a distance.

As if on cue, she rummaged through the bucket of ice, retrieving two bottles of ale and cracking them open. To Echo’s surprise, though, she held one out to him, and when he took it with a silent nod of thanks, she clinked her bottle against his and took a sip. Echo reflexively drank his as well, watching out of the corner of his eye as Cerra settled back against Gregor. The commando shifted to wrap his arm around her, tugging her closer to him and easing her head onto his shoulder.

“This is the week that useless Garr Tevv goes home,” Gregor declared. “I can feel it.”

“I don’t know, buddy,” Cerra said. “The judges don’t seem to share your opinion of Sullustans. I think he’ll make it to the finale.”

“What’s wrong with Sullustans?” Fireball asked.

“Heh, it’s a long story,” Gregor chuckled.

“You can’t judge all Sullustans by what Borkus did,” Echo said.

“Oh, can’t I?” Gregor asked. “How do you feel about Skakoans?”

“Fair point,” Echo conceded. 

“Why are there so many contestants from Separatist worlds?” Fireball asked.

“Something about bringing the galaxy together after the turmoil of war,” Gregor said. 

“By making them compete against each other?” Fireball sounded confused.

“Friendly competition,” Echo clarified. “Although it hardly seemed friendly when Timi Riniath stole Runa Mone’s conservator and left her custard out to curdle.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe they let Timi stay in after that,” Cerra complained. “Such a cheater.”

“I still think it was an honest mistake,” Gregor said.

“No way,” Echo and Cerra retorted in unison.

“Jinx, you owe me a Coke,” Cerra said automatically.

Echo inhaled sharply, and Cerra’s face went rigid as they both realized what she’d said. How many times had Fives repeated that sentence? He and Echo spoke jointly so often that it was practically their catchphrase. Fives and Cerra must have shared the same tendency for her to have picked up the habit.

“Kriff,” she whispered. “Sorry, Echo. I wasn’t thinking. It just slipped out.”

“That’s all right,” Echo said uncomfortably. “It was bound to happen sometime.”

Gregor rubbed a soothing hand on Cerra’s back. Fireball looked more confused than ever, but he wisely didn’t ask questions and went back to his drawing. 

“Good to know you shared the same brain cell with Fives as I did,” Echo said to diffuse the tension. “Feels like there’s still part of him with us.”

For once, it seemed he’d said the right thing, because Cerra visibly relaxed, and a small smile crept over her face. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

The recap segment of the show ended, and they all turned to the holovid. Fireball occasionally asked questions about how the competition worked, which Gregor answered enthusiastically, and soon the group became fully captivated. They cheered for their favorites and booed the contestants they disliked. At some point, a second round of beers was passed around, and by the end of the show, Fireball had already downloaded the old episodes onto his datapad so he could watch them next time he was on a long hyperspace jump.

Cerra looked haggard and was probably feeling the lingering effects of the sedative Gregor had administered as well as the aftermath of everything else that had happened the previous night. She didn’t manage to stay awake through the whole episode, lulled to sleep by the way Gregor absentmindedly rubbed her shoulders and the soft drag of Fireball’s marker against her leg. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Fireball said quietly.

Gregor nodded, standing cautiously with Cerra in his arms and staggering a little under their combined weight. Cerra jostled awake with a startled grunt.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Gregor said. “I’ve got you.”

She blinked owlishly at him and looked around.

“Good night, Cerra,” Fireball said.

“G’night, Tup,” she murmured as she burrowed her face into Gregor’s shoulder.

Fireball and Echo exchanged confused looks with Gregor, who just shrugged and turned away to carry Cerra to the barracks. Echo and Fireball cleaned up the detritus of their impromptu watch party, and then Echo headed for the barracks as well. 

“I’ll take the second watch,” Echo told Fireball. “I don’t think Gregor has slept at all in the last two days.”

Inside the barracks, Gregor had already tucked Cerra into her bunk and was changing out of his body glove into a pair of sweatpants. Echo eased down onto his bunk and detached his leg prosthetics with a sigh of relief. Gregor climbed into his own bunk, and the barracks descended into silence.

By some miracle of fate or the Force, Echo slept. When Fireball shook him awake to stand watch, Echo flinched away, his heart racing. Fireball held up his hands placatingly and returned to the main room. Echo dressed quickly and reattached his legs, then went to join him.

“All quiet?” Echo asked.

“So far,” Fireball said. “But I got a comm from my brother Nemec. He wants out. Do you think Rex will help?”

“I know he will,” Echo said firmly. “We’ll start planning the extraction as soon as Rex gets back.”

The anxiety in the younger clone’s face eased, and he nodded gratefully when Echo told him to get some rest. Before he returned to the barracks, though, Fireball had one more question.

“Echo?” he asked hesitantly. “Who’s Tup?”

“No idea,” Echo said.

---

Next chapter

[star-critter-2-sonic-hq]

Incorrect Glamorous Fun AU Quotes!

Because this AU has taken over my brain again grjrhtutut

---------------------------------

Kit, acting tough : You guys don't want to mess with me.

Cream : Yeah, Kit will straight up cry in public. Don't try them.

Kit : Exactly, I will straight up -

Kit : *(Realizes what Cream said)*

Kit, tearing up : Cream, why would you say that?!

---------------------------------

Infinite!🌙 : If you ever feel stupid or weak or powerless, just remember that I am not. I am out there, very dangerous, and I am looking for you. Good luck.

---------------------------------

Metal : I haven't seen Tails and Surge for fifteen minutes now.

*( Outside a nearby window, a car without a driver inside is seen rolling down a driveway, with Tails and Surge running after it in a panic. Metal doesn't look outside at all )*

Metal : That probably means they're getting into trouble.

---------------------------------

Kit : We're going to a Candy Store?!

Tails : No! It's nighttime, Candy Stores are closed.

Infinite!🌙 : We're gonna ROB a Candy Store?!?!

Tails, sighing : No-

---------------------------------

Tails : When I first got my Autism Diagnosis, my first thought was,

" Woah, it's canon. "

and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Lanolin made me get tested.

---------------------------------

Surge : You really believe in Metal?

Starline : Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

---------------------------------

Starline : My head hurts.

Infinite!☀️ : That's your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

---------------------------------

Belle, sharpening a kitchen knife : We've got ways of making others talk.

Belle : *(cuts piece of cake)*

Infinite!☀️ : ...Can I have some?

Belle : Cake is for talkers.

---------------------------------

Surge : I'm gonna mix a can of Chaos Cola with seventeen shots of Espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Funkytown by Lipps Inc. plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

---------------------------------

Kit : Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Surge : *(crouches down)*

Belle : *(kneels down)*

Metal : *(sits on the floor)*

Kit : ......

Kit : I hate all of you.

---------------------------------

Surge : So, everyone, what does a story NEED?

Metal : A character!

Belle : A setting!

Kit, a gleam in their eyes, in a near-whisper : REVENGE.

---------------------------------

Surge : ARE YOU -

Kit : Fucking

Surge : KIDDING ME?! YOU -

Kit : Fucking

Surge : IDIOT!

Metal : ...What was that?

Kit : Belle banned Surge from swearing, so I'm helping her out.

---------------------------------

Belle : Words ending in 'ie' just sound so adorable. Like cutie, sweetie, cookie -

Kit : Eyy, homie!

Surge : But then there's cootie.

Metal : Die.

---------------------------------

Metal : Wake me up -

Surge : Before you go go

Belle : When September ends

Kit : WAKE ME UP INSIDE

---------------------------------

[witch-sweets]

hey uh just a warning this was written at like 4am in the morning one night when I didn't sleep and I no longer really stand by this I do still belive souls are like caffeine but it's more in line with the sugar on steriods description I used rather than the really strong stuff think the amount used in sodas like cola or like a latte rather than black coffee there's no addiction factor and a better comparison would be that souls are like Mario power ups more than caffeine they provide a temporary boost but are ultimately beneficial to those who use them

Once Again this was written really late at night when I had no sleep so it's very scuffed and I phrase things VERY wrong and overall it's just bad and I'm embarrassed I posted this from now on character analysis/headcanon posts will only be done if I'm in the correct state of mind so let me say this

No Snatcher is not addicted to souls they are just really tasty and beneficial magic sources that can heighten someones emotional state and have a naturally alluring aura to freshly dead spirits. Who need a bit of a magic boost

The souls did not effect his mental state that severely he just lost his mind as the years went by and started excusing the murder by thinking "oh its their fault they came here they were practically asking for death"

And once again these are my HEADCANONS everyone has their own and I'd love to hear them if anyone wants to share them!

Just please be aware by going past the read more your find a very wrong scuffed up post that I really dislike now due to the confusing phrasing and comparisons

So I've been thinking about how Snatcher got into the habit of eating souls and I've come to the conclusion that for a weak scared spirit souls are not only tempting but also addicting think about these lines during one of the Snatcher streams and while not Canon they're a pretty good source to base headcanons on

Souls are described as similar to caffeine which can be addicting in the sense that they offer a physical boost for a short while to whoever consumes it caffeine is notorious for helping people pull all nighters and giving a sudden surge of hyperactivity it's like sugar on steroids however there is the aforementioned "crash" which apparently souls lack there's also supposedly a lot more benefits with souls

It isn't really elaborated on other than stuff that wouldn't apply to a ghost (extending one's lifetime) so let's move on

I like to think that instead of a "crash" the effects of the soul slowly fade out making the mental high of consuming them even more alluring due to the fact the fade time can be extended by consuming more than one which leads into the addiction factor if it's hard to understand trough text I drew some doodles to help explain

That crazed state is the ideal for Snatcher no empathy no emotions just constant euphoria and manic behavior to scare away intruders I personally believe that Prince started consuming souls to distract from all the grief and got himself addicted to them and the mental high they provided slowly becoming more accustomed to the erratic effects on his behavior and adapting them into scarring away intruders

Anyways this is just a funky character study/headcanon post soon feel free to write your own opinions and headcanons on why Snatcher consumes souls

[mangekyuou]

Hello :] can I please have hcs of Law and Zoro with male crewmate that has powers of a demonic devil fruit that the navy and WG have been searching for centuries just for it to end up in a pirate’s hands (aka reader) how would they react to their s/o’s DF awakening a frightening power that could wipe out an entire island

⟡    ֺ   𓂂  headcanons  ,  their s/o having a dangerous devil fruit.

✸     characters! . . .  zoro & law.

✸     cw(s)! . . .  reads more gender neutral. mentions of battleships. violence. no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸     notes! . . .  ummm yeah. tried my best, and these were how they came out lmaoo. i hope these are okay. thank you for requesting !!

you’re very secretive about your devil fruit powers. so much so, you try to keep your usage of them to a minimum to keep yourself safe and out of the sight of the world government

but alas, becoming a member of the heart pirates made it all the more difficult to keep that up

though law extends his hand to you joining the crew, he is very suspicious and curious about your powers. he’s never even heard of a devil fruit like yours

he waits for you to approach him, for you to tell him when you feel comfortable enough to do so

when you do tell him, he’s thankful that you put your trust in him as your captain

in a moment of desperation to help save your crew, you experienced your devil fruit’s awakening nearly splitting an island, home to a marine base, apart

he didn’t know you could do that...YOU didn’t know you could do that. an expression of just pure shock is written on his features

it’s one of the few times you have ever seen law speechless

after getting over his initial shock, he definitely sees why you wished to hide the identity of your devil fruit and why the world government would be after it

but you were a member of his crew now and he will do anything and everything he can to keep you safe

zoro isn’t bothered in the slightest when he learns you are a devil fruit user. you’re just another member of the crew he’d have to save if you ever fell into the sea

he doesn’t ask any questions about your devil fruit or why you choose to keep the identity of it a secret. it’s not his business, besides if you wanted to tell him, you would

when the others start their line of questioning and you become visibly uncomfortable, zoro is quick to jump in and defend you

also just doesn’t use the phrase “you’re welcome”. when you tell him thank you, he just nods his head with a hum. but maybe you like it that way

being chased by multiple battleships all because of luffy’s antics would stress anyone out, especially since more and more ships keep appearing, getting closer and closer

it feels like nothing is working. you’re all stalling time in order for franky to refill the barrels of cola to prepare for a coup de bust

you didn’t have much time. you had to do something now

a large surge of power emitted from your body, flying toward the fleet, obliterating nearly every ship in the fleet

zoro is absolutely speechless just as everyone else is. he knows understood that your devil fruit was very powerful, but he wasn’t expecting that

he thinks that was one of the coolest things he’s ever seen. but you’d never get him to admit it out loud 

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[mtndewbajablast]

hello. i have autism and my special interest is the brand/production history of mountain dew. facts about baja blast for you. (you can decide if they are fun facts or just facts).

so, pepsico chose to develop baja blast specifically for taco bell because mtn dew was already taco bell's most popular soft drink. taco bell customers were apparently around 1.5x more likely to get mountain dew with their meals than anything else and each brand wanted to capitalise off that. the thing about this plan though is that if two things are already a perfect pairing there isn't always much room for improvement, and baja blast is allegedly just normal mountain dew with more lime and a bit of blue colouring. people often think of it as the second successful flavour variant after code red (don't get me started on Dew Red, sans code) but it is actually technically the third. Dew Livewire, an orange variant which is considered a regional flavour today, was released for an exclusive run in the summer of 2003 after the discontinuation of coca-cola's competitor product Surge but before it was more or less replaced by Vault. after the release of coca cola's Vault, Livewire became a permanent flavour but is still subject to a fairly limited availability. today, baja blast exists as one of 14 "baja" themed dew flavour variants, and is one of the only dew flavours that is also specifically sold in an alcoholic form. the weird thing is that baja blast is a taco bell branded drink, but a line of frozen baja margaritas is also sold exclusively through red lobster. they are not now nor have they ever been operated by the same parent company, so i have always wondered about the licensing deal there.

have a good dew i mean day

these ARE fun facts thank u

[farsight-the-char]

ULTIMATE X-MEN #5

PEACH MOMOKO (W) • PEACH MOMOKO (A/C)

VARIANT COVER BY PEPE LARRAZ • VARIANT COVER BY INHYUK LEE

ULTIMATE SPECIAL VARIANT COVER BY BETSY COLA

THE NEW MUTANTS FACE THEIR FIRST ENEMY!

• Maystorm isn’t the only mutant with electric powers – and Noriko Ashida is here to make sure she knows it!

• A fun summer festival turns haunted and dangerous as spirits and surges collide!

• PLUS: The shadow who has been haunting Armor finally reveals his true face!

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$4.99

,,,,

Yeah, this magical girls deserve the name "New Mutants".

Worthy Heirs.

[fallout4-reacts]

Masterlist

Rules

You're free to continue to ask; I did not close them

Thank you for your ongoing encouragement

Actually, I don't follow no more the order I have receive them because... the inspiration don't work like that.

I hope you all understand...

2024-07-02

Thank you for continuing to provide me with such creative ideas. I'll do what I can to soon end the current queue (Up to date)

Sole who cries in their sleep

Sole's reappearance as Nuka World's Overboss after months

Sole jerryrigging a prosthetic arm (4 companions)

Deacon try to make a joke to Curie (incorrect Fallout 4 quotes)

Sole who still sees feral ghouls as human

Sole who hums or gets watery eyes when super comfy

Sole who goes to freakish extents to keep up with their pre-war skincare/hygiene

Sole "adopting" a baby deathclaw and keeping it like a pet

Sole with a low int but max luck

Danse is dense

Sole recruiting Kellogg and/or post!quest Virgil?

Sole getting infected with FEV but not a super-mutant yet (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4)

Fem/gender neutral Sole who used to be a spy/special agent pre war

Sole romancing Kellogg

Sole lost a lot of weight (comp seeing a pre-war photo)

Sole jokingly flirts but panics when companion flirt back

Potential dialogue (situation) that’s missing from the game (part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - Bonus)

Companion walking on a nude Sole (non-sexual)

Skinny Malone orders his goons to eliminate Nick

Sole betraying the BoS to save a child synth

Sole is actually an Enclave remnant

Sole finding a former degree/award for some massive achievement

Sole with a really slow reaction time

What did the companions do to stop a Frank Horegon brought back to life by a mad scientist

Sole getting surprise adopted/kidnapped by a very protective Mama

Sole who has a mutation like a Big Horner's horns from FNV? (Romance -smut warning) (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3)

MY VISION OF THE COMPANIONS

Ideas about every important NPC (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -

Sole having nature powers

A very touchy Sole (crushing companions react)

How companion+ Sturges + Desdemona + Kent would react to SS asking for $#% (smut warning?)

Nora being the notorious serial killer the Boston Butcher

Sosu saying "dildo of consequence rarely arrives with lube." To Mayor MacDonough

Random kisses whenever Sole feels a surge of affection

Sole becoming the mayor of Diamond City and...

Sole staring down at a nuka cola and they ask "How the fuck did bottle caps become a currency"

Sole drag the companions (as a group) to an old baseball/basketball court

Companions and Maxson (minus Strong) reacting to a pretty young sole knowing how to survive

Companions react to a sole that has become a conspiracy theorist

Companions react to a super genius SS

Companions reacting to someone reestablishing broadcast on TV

Companions confession being interrupt (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5)

Companions react to Sole negotiating an alliance between the Minutemen, the Institute, and the Railroad (Titan ask)

[mensajecristiano]

40 PASOS PARA RECUPERAR EL AMOR.

DIA 1: EL AMOR ES PACIENTE

Sean humildes, amables y pacientes, y con amor dense apoyo los unos a los otros. (Efesios 4:2)

El amor da resultado. Es el motivador más poderoso de la vida y tiene una profundidad y un significado tanto mayor de lo que comprende la mayoría de las personas. Siempre hace lo mejor para los demás y puede darnos la capacidad de enfrentar el problema más terrible. Nacemos con una sed de amor que dura toda la vida. Nuestro corazón lo necesita con desesperación, como nuestros pulmones necesitan el oxígeno. El amor cambia nuestra motivación para vivir. Con él, las relaciones cobran significado. Ningún matrimonio puede tener éxito sin amor.

El amor se apoya en dos pilares que lo definen a la perfección. Esos pilares son la paciencia y la bondad. Las otras características del amor son extensiones de estos dos atributos. Y aquí comenzará tu desafío: con la paciencia.

El amor te inspirará a transformarte en una persona paciente. Cuando decides ser paciente, respondes en forma positiva frente a una situación negativa. Eres lento para enojarte. Decides guardar la compostura en lugar de enfadarte con facilidad. En vez de ser impaciente y exigente, el amor te ayuda a calmarte y comenzar a demostrar misericordia a los que te rodean. La paciencia trae una tranquilidad interior durante una tormenta exterior.

A nadie le gusta estar cerca de una persona impaciente. Hace que reacciones exageradamente con enojo, insensatez y de manera lamentable.

El enojo frente a una acción injusta, irónicamente, genera nuevos agravios. El enojo casi nunca mejora las cosas. Es más, en general produce problemas adicionales. Por el contrario, la paciencia para

en seco cualquier controversia. Más que morderte el labio, más que taparte la boca con la mano, la paciencia es un suspiro profundo. Despeja el ambiente. No deja que la insensatez agite amenazante su cola de escorpión. Es la decisión de controlar tus sentimientos en lugar de permitir que estos te controlen, y recurre al tacto en vez de devolver mal por mal.

Si tu cónyuge te ofende, ¿tomas represalias con rapidez o permaneces bajo control? ¿Acaso el enojo es tu estado emocional por defecto cuando te tratan en forma injusta? Si así es, estás esparciendo veneno en lugar de medicina.

En general, el enojo se produce cuando un fuerte deseo de algo se mezcla con la desilusión o el dolor. No obtienes lo que quieres y comienza a subir la temperatura en tu interior. A menudo, es una reacción emocional que surge de nuestro propio egoísmo, de nuestra insensatez o de nuestras malas motivaciones.

En cambio, la paciencia nos hace sabios. No se apresura a sacar conclusiones sino que escucha qué dice la otra persona. La paciencia permanece a la puerta, allí donde el enojo hace todo lo posible por entrar, y espera a tener una visión completa de la situación antes de juzgar. La Biblia dice: “El lento para la ira tiene gran prudencia, pero, el que es irascible ensalza la necedad” (Proverbios 14:29).

Así como la falta de paciencia transformará tu hogar en una zona de combate, la práctica de la paciencia fomentará la paz y la tranquilidad. “El hombre irascible suscita riñas, pero el lento para la ira apacigua contiendas” (Proverbios 15:18). Afirmaciones como estas, del libro de Proverbios en la Biblia, son principios claros que tienen una relevancia eterna. La paciencia es el punto en que el amor se une a la sabiduría. Y todo matrimonio necesita esa combinación para permanecer saludable.

La paciencia te ayuda a darle permiso a tu cónyuge para que sea humano. Comprende que todos fallamos. Cuando se comete un error, decide darle más tiempo del que se merece para corregirlo. Te proporciona capacidad para resistir durante las épocas difíciles en la relación, en lugar de huir ante la presión, ¿Tu cónyuge puede estar seguro de que tiene una esposa o un esposo paciente con el cual tratar? ¿Ella puede saber que si deja las llaves dentro del auto y lo cierra encontrará tu comprensión en lugar de un sermón degradante que la haga sentir como una niña? ¿Él puede saber que alentar durante los últimos segundos de un partido de fútbol no traerá como consecuencia una lista ofensiva y larga de maneras en las que debería pasar el tiempo? Hay pocas personas con las que resulta tan difícil vivir como con alguien impaciente.

¿Cómo sería el tono y el volumen de tu hogar si probaras el siguiente enfoque bíblico? “Mirad que ninguno devuelva a otro mal por mal, sino procurad siempre lo bueno los unos para con los otros, y para con todos” (1 Tesalonicenses 5:15).

A pocos de nosotros nos resulta fácil la paciencia, y a ninguno le surge en forma natural. Sin embargo, las mujeres y los hombres sabios la considerarán el ingrediente esencial para su relación matrimonial. Es un buen punto de partida para comenzar a demostrar el amor verdadero.

Este viaje para atreverse a amar es un proceso, y lo primero que debes decidir poseer es paciencia. Considéralo como un maratón, y no una carrera corta. Sin embargo, es una carrera que vale la pena correr.

El desafío de hoy

La primera parte de este desafío es bastante simple. Aunque el amor se comunica de distintas maneras, nuestras palabras a menudo reflejan la condición de nuestro corazón. Durante el

próximo día, decide demostrar paciencia y no decirle nada negativo a tu cónyuge. Sí surge la tentación, elige no decir nada. Es mejor contenerte que expresar algo que luego lamentarás.

Haz una marca aquí cuando hayas completado el desafío de hoy.

¿En este día sucedió algo que te haya hecho enojar con tu cónyuge?

¿Te viste tentado a tener pensamientos de desaprobación y a expresarlos en palabras?

Que cada uno sea pronto para oír, tardo para hablar, tardo para la ira. (Santiago 1:19)

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What if one of the Villagers of Stardew Valley ate a Stardrop?

The Stardrop is able to increase the player's maximum energy, but what if one of the villagers were to receive the Stardrop instead? Perhaps it was a gift from the Farmer on the Feast of the Winter Star. Perchance it was found in the crater of a fallen star. Who knows?

Either way, the villagers of Pelican Town may not be as... equipped to handle the powers of the Stardrop as much as the Farmer is. I think that the effects could be quite disastrous. Just imagine, what if Vincent got his hands on one?

Upon scoffing it down, he's immediately charged with more energy than a bull on steroids, his limbs are twitching from the power surging through him and his brain is working overtime to keep up with his body. He's going to go fucking apeshit.

Jodi wakes up early one morning and he's just fucking climbing the walls like a demented Spiderman, hissing and screaming while holding on with his fingertips and toes. After hours of this little gremlin crawling over absolutely everything, he finally remembers how doors work and scurries out into the sunlight. Jodi, wrung out and exhausted, can't do anything about it. Finally, having a moment of silence, goes back to bed. Sam, oblivious to everything that had happened thanks to noise cancelling headphones, is inexplicably confused to find footprints on the ceiling when he walks out for breakfast.

Vincent meanwhile, is just becoming a menace to society. Later, Lewis recorded a total of 9 broken windows, 2 counts of breaking and entering, theft (does eating Evelyn's old photos count as theft?), 14 acts of vandalism and grand theft auto. He's unstoppable. Climbing from rooftop to rooftop like Santa on crack, for an entire day, the people of Pelican Town could do nothing but hide in fear while he destroyed and looted the town. The word 'booger' was scrawled on the outside of the Saloon in a suspicious liquid that looked a lot like blood. Alex's dog was spray painted pink. The toilet from the General Store was sitting in the fountain. But it was nothing compared to Joja Mart.

Joja Mart had become a warzone. Vincent had hit it, and he had hit it hard. Food was scattered everywhere. The shelves had been tipped over and thrown about. Chaos reigned supreme. Morris squatted in his little cubicle, trapped by hundreds of cans of Joja Cola. The poor employees had taken off, thankful for the break.

Eventually, however, something had to be done. Vincent had stolen Lewis's pickup and was tearing off down the potholed highway at a hundred miles an hour. It was only a matter of time before he decided the other cars were in his way and caused an incident so large it made headlines nationally. Jodi and Lewis turned to the only person who might be able to help them: the Farmer.

And so, at 11pm on a cold winter's evening, the Farmer teleported to the Calico Desert, stimmed up from a triple shot expresso and feeling nothing but simmering rage. This was their one day off for the entire freaking year and Vincent had decided that it was the perfect time to become a fallen god. Just their luck. In the distance, they could spot the headlights getting closer and closer at a scarily rapid pace. Vincent was barely awake at this point; whatever made the Stardrop so potent had token over his brain, dissolving his consciousness into a frenzied ball of childish ambition.

The Farmer pulled out a hammer of ungodly size, bristling with so much demonic energy it was literally humming with power, and in one swift motion, launched into the air, twisted their body around for maximum force and fucking pounded that shit into the bonnet of Lewis's pickup. The car went from 140 to 0 in an instant, throwing Vincent through the windshield. He was yeeted down the road like a meat-filled ragdoll, bouncing along, leaving bloody splotches every few metres. The Farmer threw them over one shoulder and hauling him like the wet sack of meat he is, teleported back to the Valley.

And so, that was how the Farmer found themselves in Rasmodius's basement at 1 in the morning, watching as an exorcism was performed on the little boy. There was lots of screaming, ritualistic chanting and levitation, but with some luck, plenty of caffeine and a little bit of divine intervention, Vincent was back to normal.

At the next Feast of the Winter Star, the Farmer got Vincent a sack of coal. Vincent asked the Farmer why, had he been bad that year? The Farmer proceeded to sock him in the head with the bag, sending him flying. It was quite reminiscent of his body flopping along the highway, and the Farmer found it quite therapeutic.