#then got on the football track and was excelling at THAT

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

no one hates Kevin James as much as he seems to hate himself. the Paul Blart movies are written BY him! they are both just 1.5hrs of belittling his own real, human body! a body that, honestly, is not even that fat. like i wouldn't really give a dude that size a second thought, but Mr. James puts on clothes 1-2 sizes too small and then writes hours of jokes about disgusting and vile he is. that man is not doing well.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper

Pairing: (Possibly?) Poly Team 141 x Female Reader / Female Reader x Her mental health

Content Warning: Mental Issues touched upon. Swearing.

Note: Your code names are either Grim Reader or Iron Maiden.

Words: 2502

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

Supernatural AU - Poem

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary:

If you can’t be perfect at something, why bother trying?

If you can’t get it right the first time, why bother?

What would they do if you had forcibly removed yourself from the equation? Would they notice that you were gone? Would they care? You went numb because of your parents. The lack of care and the added pressure to remain at the top.

"Do me a favour and just leave me alone." You said. Telling them both to go away. To leave you alone. They had each other and you were alone. Death seemed better than whatever mess awaited you back home. You have worked alone for the longest time. You require no back up. Not only that, but you don't need any pity or assistance. Death is reward in a sea of endless nightmares.

“It's not like you can stop me.” You told him. Eyes narrowing at him. Picking up your duffle bag to head out the door. “Do me favour a leave me alone.”

If you can’t be perfect at something, why bother trying?

If you can’t get it right the first time, why bother?

‘Do me a favour and go back to ignoring me. It’s what you’re good for.’ You thought.

‘Let’s get going morons. I don’t have the patience to deal with my shit and yours. Lets go already’ you think during times where people just take too long.

‘It’s war. Stop celebrating it like it’s a fucking football match and go back to work, you ignorant fucks.’ You pondered, looking over the soldiers celebrating too loudly.

‘My feelings are not yours to discuss. I will not speak endless garbage.’ You continued to glare at team 141 from afar. ‘They talk too much. Talking more doesn’t make you smarter. Nor does it make you look smarter, either.’

You have an interest in MMA, Kickboxing, axe throwing and Electrical Engineering. Your still undertaking your pathway into Electrical Engineering in different ways like the mask you wear on your face. Covering it entirely. Leaving nothing to the naked eye.

You have a high pain tolerance. An excellent one-track focus. Almost unnerving, eery according to your superiors.

You are your superior’s grim reaper as your lone wolf behaviour serves them so well. They don’t want anyone else to have you. Ever.

Thus, you have no intention of bonding with them. Once the mission is over. You intend to disappear once they turn around long enough to let you disappear.

‘Imagine looking like that.’ You heard about you. You managed to overhearing from your parent’s mouths, your bullies and the people you thought were your friends. Why bother giving someone else that chance to do it all over again when all they’ll do is leave you broken.

Your face staring back at you in the mirror. The only reason you got into the military is because of the fact that you wouldn’t be able to afford to fix your teeth otherwise. It was mostly a health reason rather than because you were so keen on ‘serving’.

All of your snacks are stored inside of a body bag to prevent people from stealing them from you. It made you feel safe and have a way to eat something without relying on other people. Even while you were growing up.

Touching your face, neck or shoulders are a big no, no for you. “Get the fuck away. Next time you do that shit, I’m hitting you in the face.” You said instinctively as a warning to get them away from you.

“Bury me in a cardboard box on the side of a highway or some shit. I don’t care.” You said once. You were annoyed and overstimulated from the lights, sounds and the combination onslaught of senses. You didn’t want more. You wanted less. You wanted to stop feeling like you were going to choke yourself or someone else.

All because you wore the evil socks that day and everything went down hill fast from there.

"Not here." You said, hoping the knock on your door would disappear as you were meditating.

You were wrong. You were wrong in a way you wish you saw coming.

The knock persisted. It grew louder, more insistent. It was as if the very wood of the door was begging for your attention. You knew it was Captain Price. His heavy footsteps and distinct knocking pattern had become all too familiar over the weeks. With a sigh, you opened the door to reveal the stern man with the unlit cigar hanging from his lips.

'God. I should have taken the drive into the lake this afternoon if I knew I was going to be bothered again.' you thought.

Captain Price looked at you with a gaze that could cut through steel. "We have a mission, Grim. Get dressed, you're coming with us." His voice was gruff, the words cutting through the silence of your room like a knife.

"Pretty sure you have all the help you need this time Captain." you snorted.

Price just stared at you. That unlit cigar doing nothing to hide the frustration in his eyes. He knew you didn’t care for the camaraderie of the squad, but that didn’t change the mission. “It’s a solo job, Grim. You’re our best shot at this. No one else can go in there and come out without raising suspicion.”

'Great. This means more time I need to get rid of excess aggression. I want to fucking kill myself.' you thought as you got ready.

You grabbed your gear, the same gear that had seen more blood than most people had in their lives. It was a grim reminder of your purpose. You were the weapon of choice for when things got too messy for the regular soldiers. The government’s way of keeping their hands clean.

The mission briefing was short and to the point. Infiltrate a heavily guarded compound, extract the intel, and eliminate the target. A simple task for anyone else, but for you, it was just another Tuesday. The room was filled with tension as the team around you studied the layout, whispering strategies and potential escape routes. You remained silent, eyes locked on the map, your mind already racing through the countless scenarios that could unfold.

Your mantra, 'I don't need you. Just as you don't need me.' echoed in your mind as you geared up. You didn't bother with the usual banter or good lucks that filled the air before a mission. They were just words. Empty, hollow promises of friendship and camaraderie that you knew would crumble under the weight of reality. You were the Grim Reaper, not their buddy. 'I am what you see when death is on the table.'

"I tolerate you. I don't intend to do more Captain." You said once, your voice as cold as the Siberian night you once fought in. You had earned your name, Grim Reaper, not just from your silent and deadly tactics, but from the emotional vacuum you carried with you. It was like speaking to a wall, but they had come to accept it.

Though the amount of aggression you had pent-up was enough to fuel a small war, you knew that you had to keep it in check. You were confronted about it, though for the life of you, you had no idea why they cared. You were heading to the gym to get rid of the excess aggression from your system.

You walked into the gym to just get to rid of it. If it was particularly traumatising, she won't speak to anyone on the way there. The sound of metal clanging and the rhythmic thump of combat boots on the floor echoed through the space as you approached the boxing ring. It was a cage match in here, but not the kind that involved a referee or an audience. Just you and your inner demons. You slammed your duffle bag down on the bench, the thud resonating in the room as you began to unpack your gear.

One such instance was today, and you were interrupted, "Ask someone else." you said and continued on your way. "Ask Ghost to help. I'm sure he's far more willing for you." You had enough pent-up to fuel a small generator.

He didn't budge, didn't move and he certainly had no intention of taking his eyes off of you. You felt like a caged animal, and Price knew it. He was the kind of man that knew when to push and when to pull. His hand rested on the doorframe, his knuckles white with the effort of holding himself back. You knew he had more to say, but he remained silent, waiting for your next move.

You came back from the most recent mission and you didn't want to talk.

You had just gotten back from a mission that had gone sideways. The intel was solid, the target was eliminated, but the compound had been a veritable hornet's nest. Bullets had flown like rain, and you had danced through the storm like a specter. But even as you walked back into the base, the stench of gunpowder and death clung to you like a second skin. You could feel it in every step you took, every breath you drew.

The gym was empty, a rare luxury in this place. You climbed into the ring, the ropes groaning slightly as you took up your stance. The bag before you was your silent adversary, the only one who never talked back, never questioned your motives, never judged your scars. You threw a punch, feeling the impact resonate up your arm, the pain a sweet release. You had done this a hundred times before, but tonight it was different. Tonight, the bag felt like it was fighting back, each hit echoing the pain you felt inside.

Your sparring match made you look more like Iron maiden than Grim Reaper. Each punch and kick sent the bag swinging, the sound of impact a cathartic symphony in the empty gym. Sweat beaded on your forehead, mixing with the grime of the day’s battle. You were lost in the rhythm, the therapeutic dance of combat, until the sound of the gym door squeaking open broke your concentration.

You spun around, fists clenched, expecting an unwelcome interruption from one of the chattering squad members. But instead, you found yourself face to face with Captain Price. He leaned against the ropes of the ring, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn’t speak, just nodded slightly, acknowledging your presence without interrupting your solitude. He knew better than to approach you after a mission like that. The air was thick with unspoken words, a silent agreement that sometimes the best conversations were the ones never had.

He still remembers when you judo threw soap when he touched your shoulders. "Keep your hands to yourself."

You could see the look in his eyes, the concern and the curiosity. But you didn’t care. You didn’t need his pity or his sympathy. You were fine. You had to be fine. You had to be the one who could handle it all, because if you weren’t, who would they send instead? The weak? The inexperienced? No, they’d send you. And you’d die.

So you ignored him, turned back to the punching bag, and threw another hit. This one was harder than the last. The bag swung back and forth, the chains groaning with each impact. The sweat on your forehead trickled down your cheek, stinging your eyes. But you didn’t flinch. You never did. That was your job, to not flinch. To not feel. To be the one who did the dirty work while everyone else patted themselves on the back and told themselves they were heroes.

Price remained there, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel his gaze boring into your back, but you ignored it. You had to. You had to keep going, keep fighting, keep moving forward. It was the only way to survive in this world. The way to keep the darkness at bay. The way to keep from breaking down.

From them seeing you as the caged animal you are. Ghost only had to hold you back once, which even for him, remains to be rather difficult, it was to give you your anti-psychotic meds which you had no idea you had to take. Ghost said, "You're an unruly beast, aren't you? Hey, stop trying to bite me." You growled afterwards. You didn’t know how to handle kindness, so you lashed out. It was easier to push people away than to let them in, only to watch them leave when they realized what you truly were. A monster, bred for war.

Ghost called you a good girl and you grimaced instead of growling, taking the pill with a sip of water. "Thanks," you murmured, trying to sound sincere. But the word felt strange in your mouth, like a foreign tongue you hadn’t spoken in a long time. You didn’t know how to be good, not when all you knew was the taste of gunpowder and the feel of cold steel.

Ghost chuckled, at your reaction, "No need to thank me, Grim. We all got our battles to fight. Just remember, we're all in this together." His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the brutal world outside the gym. For a moment, you felt a flicker of something akin to warmth. But it was fleeting, snuffed out by the cold reality of who and what you were. You nodded curtly, not trusting your voice to respond.

You slept without nightmares that night. Odd. Normally they were there.

The doctor's eyes widened slightly at your candidness, but he remained calm. "Grim, you can't keep going on like this. The mind can't handle this kind of stress indefinitely. It's not healthy."

You didn't say anything in response. The doctor 's words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You didn't need a psych evaluation. You needed a mission, a target to focus on, something to keep the darkness at bay. To the doctor's surprise you allowed him to get closer. To him it was a sign of progress, to you it was just a way to get what you needed. He offered you a hand to help you up from under the table, and for a split second, you took it feeling like you were five again. Lost without your parents.

You were now on your way home. Even though you didn't want to.The doctor had convinced you, or rather, the fear of incompetency had convinced you.

You didn’t want to be seen as weak, as someone who couldn’t handle the pressure. So, you agreed to the leave, with the caveat that you’d be back as soon as it was over.

You packed your bags with the same precision you used for your missions, double-checking every item. The gym had become your sanctuary, a place where you could unleash your demons without consequence.

Now, you were being sent back to the real world, where those demons were born.

[afyrian]

other sports w/ the msby team | headcanons

m.list

hinata shoyo

- would excel in fast-paced sports - specifically track and field - runs 100 to 200 meter races - and does the high jump - one of the best in japan in high jump - however it scared him shitless at first - running and jumping backwards over a pole? - yeah he wasn't prepped - but his coach helped him through the process - even carries through to the olympics - doesn't beat any records but receives silver first try - met you at the olympics - where you’re a pole vaulter - he’s super supportive and friendly - encouraging you to keep trying after your pole snapped - buying dinner for you the following night

sakusa kiyoomi

- he would do so well in ice skating - his figure and form and important to him - he makes sure to calculate every jump and spin - prefers skating alone - from the early hours to late nights - this practice ultimately works as he makes it to the olympics - getting gold overnight - is quickly recommended to try partner skating - doesn’t work well with his partner - so he goes solo again - resulting in him going silver at the next olympics - having less time to prep - during his season off he slipped - spraining his ankle - sakusa met you who helped with his ankle injury - helping him get back to where he needs to be - also helping him understand that he needs a break every once in a while

atsumu miya

- hard middle fielder for the japan's football team - similar to vb he prefers to assist - helping the wings get their goals - good at defense - willing to slide tackle anyone - receives lots of yellow cards due to this - has never received a red card though - super friendly to the other team - in a terrifying sort of way - never wanted to play football originally - got into it because osamu wanted to be a goalie - ends up loving the competitive environment - makes a few goals himself - once received a hat trick that got his team going crazy - he met you through a fundraiser - your team also there to represent japan - you barely spoke to him besides talking about how well he plays - resulting in him thinking about you constantly - finally finding you on instagram to talk

bokuto kotaro

- rugby lad!! - loves the energy of the field - would be a loosehead/tighthead prop - being one of the physically stronger players he excels there - helping hold the hooker up to stop the ball - loves the cooperation of the game - will always pick a team game over independent ones - does get easily frustrated when getting tackled - luckily has teammates who can hype him back up - and you! - who is the junior manager - working under their main manager who mentors you for the future - you always find ways to cheer up him - yelling to him from the sidelines - promising him that you’ll manage his team in the future

a/n: i know nothing of rugby i am so sorry gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25

[livwritesstuff]

So I’ve made a few references to Steve being an Excel guy as an adult (because someone had to be in charge of Steve and Eddie’s money and it certainly wasn’t going to be Eddie).

He’s got the classic spreadsheets – monthly budget, college savings projections, income tracking because he and Eddie both work jobs with variable incomes (Steve is a counselor and Eddie is an author), the whole nine yards.

Steve also has some “extracurricular” spreadsheets. I’ve talked about how Steve has a spreadsheet tracking the combinations of Mario Kart racers/vehicles he tries out (there’s a ranking system involved, it’s very complex). He’s got one for his fantasy football league, obviously, and he and Moe put money on their March Madness brackets so there’s a spreadsheet for that too.

Eddie’s personal favorite is the one comparing monthly expenses by kid, which isn’t exactly a necessary metric per se, but from it stems a game Steve and Eddie secretly play: who is the most expensive Harrington daughter?

The winner tends to rotate throughout the year, but Hazel is usually their least expensive child in the long run. She does ballet, which isn’t too bad when she’s little but then she graduates to pointe shoes, and Steve had no idea that not only do pointe shoes set you back $100 minimum, they also wear out ridiculously fast, and, as he’s been told many times, you can’t wear the dead ones.

Moe usually takes that top spot in the winter – elite basketball teams aren’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination, and then in high school she gets into snowboarding, which is somehow even more expensive. She’s also consistently the reason they hit their health insurance deductible every year. 

Robbie is their overall most expensive kid by a mile. She drove up their car insurance by getting into an accident a month after she got her driver's license, had braces for five years, and the prescription on her glasses has changed every eighteen months since she was seven. She’s notorious for breaking her phone, so she racks up quite a tab in that regard too (the one year they got a protection plan was also the one year she had no phone-related incidents, so they didn’t even bother renewing it – they just make her suffer with a cracked screen for a few months before they finally drag her to the mall to get it fixed). There’s also the year Eddie bought her an electric violin which was, naturally, not cheap (Eddie argues it shouldn’t count because he was the brains behind that operation).

[woso-dreamzzz]

I am here to press my case for both McDreamy and Her gf to play for Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Basically we need all the help we can get with the football. However, we excel at everything else so they can have as much greasy and unhealthy food as they can eat and offering handing over of airdrie and cumbernauld for them to do whatever they please with (preferably demolition)

Alexia is in her basement somewhere with the big pin board tracking Mcdreamy's lineage to check if she could somehow play for Scotland.

She's also got Renard on the phone trying to get her to go the same for Lyon!R

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Summary: how timetraveling Vikings would react to modern Christmas/what they enjoy/etc.

Tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @leithdragon @demon-of-the-ancient-world @alicedopey @ivarlover @levithestripper @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 @vrtualfairy (hmu to be added to any of my taglists!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Ragnar

I think Ragnar likes modern christmas more than he should

He takes it like many non-christians do nowadays – fuck Christianity, i’m getting presents

Might let Athelstan drag him to church

Leaves midway tho

So bad at gift-giving that he accidentally gets you a great one

Lagertha

The BEST gift giver

Has a little table (after you show her how excel works, obvi) of the people she wants to get presents for and tracks their wishes over the course of a year

You need her at Christmas, actually

She doesn’t like the Christian part of it, but she likes the community it creates and GODDAMN Lagertha makes some good food

Athelstan

Vibes to church service HARD, even in modern times

Big enjoyer of WHAM! And Mariah Carey

Makes small, but very thoughtful gifts

Definitely always gets sick around Christmas and wears a bundle of scarves

Please don’t let him shave his head weirdly, or his brain will freeze

Bjorn

Doesn’t like Christmas

He came to the future, you have planes, let him use them

Spends his Christmas in warm places

Honestly, he might enjoy Aussie Christmas

Any excuse for beaches and bbq

Ubbe

If you want to stage a great Christmas celebration, go to Ubbe

Despite being from Viking times, he will be able to organise it better

He likes bringing people together for any occasion, and will be decorating the venue he chose like a PTA-mom with rabies (so, quintessentially, Ubbe)

Does not let snowy grounds stop him from playing football with friends/brothers

Hvitserk

LOVES Christmas

An endless supply of cookies and chocolate? Are you kidding??? The christians got something right?????

Eats everything you leave lying around

On time for everything during Christmas

Honestly, he gets hilarious gifts for everyone

Surprisingly good at singing christmas carols

Honestly, Hvitserk makes friends in all religions so his year of exquisite eating is just

Easter -> Eid -> Midsommar -> Thanksgiving -> Hannukah -> Christmas

Rinse and repeat baby

Sigurd

Spends the entire time critizising the compository value of christmas songs

Has an enemies to lovers arc with them

One day, soon after Christmas Eve, you will find a slightly drunk Sigurd in front of a karaoke machine with a thousand yard stare and the best interpretation of Last Christmas your ears will ever hear

Ivar

Christmas is a capitalist venture for the foolish designed by greedy christians

Totally does not buy super expensive gifts for his friends to brag

That Tesla outside your door? That’s not a Christmas gift silly, he’s sending you down the frozen road as a sacrifice to Odin so his bleeding ears might be saved from Sigurd

Does make an effort to put his mafia-ventures on hold for you though

He still hates Christmas

Floki

HATES CHRISTMAS. Floki hates Christmas so much. Did he already say he hates Christmas?

Hates it so much he secretly loves it.

‘Annoyed’ at Helga for baking cookies with you

‘Annoyed’ at the celebrations and people coming together

He secretly enjoys the non-Christian part of Christmas

But he just can’t get over the Jesus being born thing

Celebrates the part of Easter where he’s dead for a few days

Helga

Loves Christmas, and without shame

Turns into a cookie factory

Handmade gifts for everyone

Does a lot of charity/social work around Christmas

Enjoys ice-skating rinks as well

Tells Floki to stop moping around (he does)

[pjshermann]

do you have willem headcanons. and may we know them

Ohohohoho I fucking love A Little Life headcanons I’ll never shut up about it

These are my Willem headcanons

- Is a Yankees fan, so he and Harold (A Red Sox fan) have gotten into many arguments over their respective teams

- Despite being very pale, he tans really good. Rarely gets sunburnt

- Was short growing up, then hit a massive growth spurt in middle school

- As a young boy, he would often create and put on one-man skits to entertain Hemming. This was how he discovered his love for acting

- Similarly to Jude, he has rough, muscular hands because he grew up helping his parents with work on the ranch

- Sometimes uses Swedish nicknames/petnames for his friends

- On his high-school football team, he was the wide receiver

- Celebrated St. Lucia’s day growing up, but stopped as he got older and left for college. Then, after his parents passed, he began to celebrate it again to remember them

- When he did track in high-school, he excelled the most in long-distance running

- Writes all of his notes and reminders in Swedish.

- He’s gotten completely used to seeing it, but on very rare occasions (usually on days where he finds himself remembering Hemming more intensely) he will sometimes look at Jude’s wheelchair and feel slightly sad because it makes him recall Hemming’s wheelchair. He has never mentioned this to Jude, because he knows Caleb used a similar reasoning as an excuse to hurt Jude.

- Annoys the makeup artists/hair stylists on set because he’s very antsy and fidgety in his chair. Can’t sit still for the life of him. They only tolerate him because he’s very genuinely apologetic about it

- Uses his grandfather’s silver mug as his coffee (when he stopped drinking coffee, tea) mug

- Back when the boys used to go to Pho Viet Huong, he was the one who most often got sick from the food

[trivialbob]

I'm happy over a simple shirt I bought yesterday.

Feeling a need to walk, but tired of being cold, I went to the Mall of America. Some say it's about a mile to walk one loop inside the mall. After I strolled all three main levels my Garmin came up with 2.6 miles. It's a little wonky using the GPS indoors, so I'm not making any guarantees.

People watching is excellent. This has got to be the most diverse place in Minnesota. I heard English, Spanish, Arabic, Russian (?), Japanese, and more. People are in all shapes, sizes, political persuasions, gender identities, colors, attitudes, and manner of dress. The huge mall is next to the airport, and Minnesota doesn't charge sales tax on clothes, so I've heard the place gets plenty of out of state shoppers.

Does your bingo card have an ex football player with purple hair? Wait, is that the ex football player with purple hair in a wheelchair or the ex football player with purple hair shuffling along in a silky track suit? How about a cute young mom with three adorable children? Well, yes, but do you want the one with three girls, or three boys, or two girls and one boy? Because they are all there.

I like that I didn't see any of those silly, virtue signalling signs declaring All Are Welcome Here or We Respect All People. Those signs are not necessary because it just happens. All these different people all got along without placards telling them to.

Sure, I wanted to holler at a parent with a triple stroller (filled with three adorable children, two boys and one girl - BINGO!). She had stopped in the middle of a busy hallway to read her phone, causing chaos like Prius dawdling in the left lane of a busy highway.

But I wiggled around them quietly, as did other walkers and shoppers, and went on my way. Also I really can't complain because 25 years ago I was a parent with a double stroller (reasonably looking dad, two boys), taking winter walks there with my young kids. Surely I had been in someone's way.

At Old Navy I decided to go inside. Prices at my once-beloved LL Bean have exited my comfort zone. I also wasn't pleased with the quality of the last three items I purchased there. Eddie Bauer prices are high too ($85 for jeans? Please!) but EB at least has perennial steep discounts. Though I rarely shop Old Navy, I've always had a good experience there.

This long-sleeve tech shirt was marked at $22 (not bad) and just $11.50 (whoo hoo!) after the always-available Old Navy sale price. It was sort of a two-for-one in that I love how it looks and feels AND I didn't spend much money. I'll be back.

All my other tech shirts are from races. They're comfortable for exercising or sleeping on cold nights, but I'm not a fan of the graphics on some of them. Displaying "2016 Twin Cities Marathon" is okay with me, but I don't care for the word "Finisher" on the shirts. It looks odd to me, no better than "Participant" or "I did this." At least that one didn't have "Finished in 16,422nd Place."

[hyuck-xix]

Okay, NCT 127 "Walk" mv first impressions:

The song itself is super fun, I like the fast tempo and Jaehyun's opening really started us off strong (it's crazy how he wasn't a rapper from the start, like he's so good at it??), followed by Mark who absolutely excels at this type of rap so it was great to see him do his thing. Also we got a Haechan rap! I definitely prefer Haechan as a vocalist but it's cool to see him branch out. I think it's smart of 127 to lean into a more retro hip hop sound when Taeyong isn't there. I'm not sure they could've pulled off something more risky and experimental without Taeyong...

I feel like the vocalists suffered a little bit, probably just because they didn't have much in their wheelhouse here. I felt a little bad for them. Jungwoo's ethereal voice just felt a bit out-of-place in this kind of song.

Music video-wise, I liked the concept and cinematography/visual effects (although I did NOT need to see Mark's feet at the end!! 😩). Haechan in the construction site was adorable-- it reminded me of how he was in the lawn chair during football practice in "Broken Melodies". And I liked the flames on their shoes, what a fun visual. Mark and Taeil walking on the swimming pool was so fun.

I really don't love the outfits and styling (sorry). Johnny's hair has unfortunately *not* grown on me... The fashion feels a bit stale, not as cohesive and interesting as I had hoped. The only exceptions are Yuta's eyeglasses (very office siren of him lol) and Mark's little red and navy outfit which is the only one that feels real to me and not like a poorly-executed costume.

overall of 127's recent album title tracks I think I'd rank them:

1. Ay-yo

2. Fact Check

3. Walk

4. Sticker

5. Favorite

6. 2 Baddies

[mamamittens]

The Only Choice +18

Spooktober Day 2!

Fandom: One Piece (Highschool AU)

Ship: Yandere!Ace X Petite!F!Reader (Ace is 19 and Reader is 18)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, possessive behavior, murder, Law does not survive, incredibly dubious consent/borderline noncon, coercion, manipulation, groping, kitchen sex, foreplay, nipple/breast play, oral sex (female receiving), aggressive sex, sex as a tool for manipulation, and creampie.

All the red flags here, I stg keep this in mind before reading.

Word Count: 5,231

To say Ace’s childhood growing up was rough would be… an understatement. While not exactly a feral child, the way he was openly encouraged to explore the mountain range to his heart’s content from a young age did jack shit to his social skills. Instead of learning how to share his blocks and manage his temper, he learned more… useful things. How to move silently at night among predators. How to stalk and hunt prey animals—and later the predators he emulated so well. Ace learned all sorts of important lessons in the heart of the forest.

Then Sabo came along and taught him the things he missed out on. How to hold a proper conversation—that eye contact wasn’t a sign of aggression. Basic social etiquette and behavior—he should not bludgeon competitors to death with a club in broad daylight. What personal space even was—snapping his teeth may be an effective way to clear up space but was undeniably rude. Still, he was incredibly rough around the edges. Really, it was Luffy that taught him how to behave like a more balanced young man, ironically enough.

Wrangling the embodiment of chaos sure does some things to an ingrained pattern of aggressive behavior. And Luffy was quite durable and forgiving for his screw ups, unlike Sabo who gave as good as he got. A perfect little pipeline for a terror of a mountain child to eventually be given to a chaotic family that taught him to embrace but control his wild urges. Whitebeard was indulgent of his behavior—but only to a point. And he was absolutely capable of bringing him back in line when needed.

So, eventually, Ace was ready to enter the school system without being a flight, fight, or tiny terrorist risk. Sure, he was held back a year, but to be fair… no one remembered to teach him how to read in all that socialization. But he worked hard and got back on track. And he would have probably half assed everything right up till graduation if it hadn’t of been for one thing.

His precious little sweetheart. You.

Having transferred in a bit late during their shared first year of high school, Ace had always been aware of her. How could he not? A sweet little thing in a sea of sweaty, hormonal teens. It took a lot of work, but over the course of three years, Ace steadily made his way into the highly prized position of being her best friend. Anyone that wanted to get near her went through him first. Overhyped football players, weak little twig boys, and unredeemable perverts alike.

And he did an excellent job of keeping the filth of the school far away from his sweetheart right up until he had to leave for a few weeks on vacation. Gramps lost several boxes of rice crackers to the ocean under mysterious circumstances for that, even if he did enjoy spending time with his brothers in peace. But look what happens when he leaves her alone! Gone for a month and some fancy fucking prick moves in on her!

What. The. Fuck.

He never wanted to hear a crack about his cowboy hat after seeing the spotted monstrosity Trafalgar D. Water Law wore. And he had the fucking audacity to put his hands on you? To think he was good enough to even hold hands in the hall—mother fucker didn’t even bother to look happy about it! Law just kept wearing that same smug look the whole time like Ace couldn’t see jack shit!

It wasn’t like he’d never seen Law before now. They had crossed paths in the hallways. Shared projects in English class on occasion. And Ace knew Law had a few science projects with you as well over the years. But Law had always kept his nose in his books unless he was required to or walking that massive white dog. Bepo, he thought. Although, is that really all Law had done?

Ace was your best friend. You wouldn’t suddenly date someone without telling him first! Not… not unless you were coerced. He could see it now. You, sweet precious thing that you were, taken advantage of. Lead astray to keep secrets like Ace wasn’t working tirelessly to keep you safe. With a sneer, Ace supposed that in such a scenario, it wasn’t entirely impossible Law nursed a crush in your delicate heart. Encouraging you to think of him romantically. Law wasn’t the most hideous man at their school.

And with Ace gone for a whole month well… a lot of things can happen over a month. He’d need to correct this situation as soon as possible. But first, he needed to know exactly what happened while he was gone. And if this had been brewing for longer than he expected. The punishment had to fit the crime, naturally.

He wasn’t a feral mountain child anymore, after all. Mostly.

Giving you his best smile, he slid over to your other side and beamed.

“Well, well, well. When did this happen? You didn’t tell me you were all grown up now!” Ace teased, ruffling your hair and ignoring your protests. You were smiling and laughing, which was all the go-ahead Ace needed. Law however, was still a smug bastard as he held your other hand, chaining you to his side. Like he had any right!

“Ace! Stop that!” You scoffed, smacking his arm lightly, “And uhm… we… we thought it would be nice to try it out, you know? Just to see where it goes.”

Ace felt his muscles tense with rage but maintained his pleasant expression. This fucker just wanted to string you along! And for what?! How long?! Until he’s taken everything you have that belongs to him—

“Ooo~, what little love birds you two are. Try not to make me gag too much, ‘kay sweetheart?” Ace winked, ruffling your hair again strutting to his class. Unfortunately, he didn’t share any class periods with you this semester. Something he was unable to rectify in time without looking suspicious. Still, it did provide him the space he would sorely need to plan how to get rid of this new pest.

He'd hate to let down Oyaji by allowing a little problem like this to bite him in the ass later. In the meantime,… he’d play nice.

Tigers never found success without stalking their kills first after all.

Still, it was hard for Ace. Watching you fall for Law’s tricks hook, line, and sinker. You both sat together at lunch every day, held hands whenever possible, went on dates when time allowed. And Ace grew to resent Law more with every passing hour. That damn smug look a permanent expression regardless of how cute you acted, hanging off Law’s arm. Ace should have given you the talk long ago and avoided this whole mess to start with. But really… deep down, Ace was a romantic at heart.

And what was more romantic than planning the perfect way to get rid of your soon-to-be-ex so he could sweep you off your feet properly?

As it turns out, it was actually not that hard to plan Law’s death. See, he was actually quite sickly as a child. Some sort of poisoned water situation in his hometown. Eventually he got better, but his internal organs were severely damaged in the process. Not enough to replace them entirely, but enough to require a careful diet for several years. Like, for example, his kidneys.

Honestly, Ace could almost feel bad about the whole thing. Law waxed on about his dream to become a doctor in the hopes of preventing his childhood disaster on several occasions. He was probably smart enough to do a lot of good for the world. If he had kept his fucking hands to himself first that is.

Who knew a few milligrams of mushroom concentrate could cause a total renal failure within hours? And who would have guessed the stoic Trafalgar Law would choose to keep quiet about his little ‘stomach bug’ as his guardians left town for the weekend?

Ace chuckled to himself as he crept away from the house, leaving no trail to follow. The fact that Ace had wrapped Law in a blanket with a gag in place to make sure of it was simply a happy accident. He wanted to tie Law to a chair but the bruises would look suspicious. And arranging a camping trip ‘just for the boys’ was too obvious, even if he fed Law to the mountain lions.

No, Ace was actually running errands for Oyaji all night! Several people can attest to that fact if questioned.

Which no one did.

Because poor Law, honor student and future doctor, passed quietly in his sleep after taking more pain medication for his sudden illness. An illness that proved fatal and swift. What was there to question with those facts in mind?

The toll this took on you, of course, was incredible. You were inconsolable for days, your tender heart shattered from the sudden death of your boyfriend. As much as Ace hated to see you cry—especially over that bastard—it was necessary. Like… removing an invasive species for the betterment of all. But Ace was there every minute he could be. Oyaji was very understanding as well, allowing Ace to stay at your house for as long as needed.

He was also quite proud of how Ace handled the situation on his own, but that little detail was simply icing on the top!

For the most part, consoling you involved watching old movies with your head tucked under his chin. Encouraged by Ace conveniently turning the air down slightly past your normal tolerance. Thinning frame cuddled in a blanket fort at his side as he encouraged you to cry it all out and eat something. Anything. The outside world didn’t exist as far as you were concerned. And while Ace definitely appreciated catching up on personal time with you… your health was something else entirely. This whole ‘mourning’ thing was taking too long. Especially for someone that didn’t deserve to be with you to begin with.

Thankfully, Ace had better tact than to say that… maybe he should have staged an elopement to make this easier for you? Too late now, really. A thought for the future perhaps. Not that there would ever be a chance he lets this happen twice. But how to ensure it? How does he help you move on from Law faster?

The answer came with a crockpot that Thatch provided—wonderful big brother that he was, honestly where would he be without his family or you? The crockpot held a hearty soup, perfect for broken hearts. The trick was getting you to eat. The little bites of crackers or ice cream you held down never lasted before a crying fit tossed them back up. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Law had also poisoned you literally. But he couldn’t hurt you anymore. Not with Ace here to keep a careful eye on your fragile, loving heart.

Ace pondered the dilemma as he waited for the crockpot to heat up. The house empty as your parents were at work and the two of you excused on ‘bereavement’. Well, you were excused. Ace simply had Oyaji excuse him for the time being to support you with the promise that as soon as you were more stable the both of you would have study sessions with Marco to catch up. There wasn’t any sense in letting tragedy derail your education, now was there? Law had done enough damage as it was.

A sniffle in the doorway alerted Ace to your presence as you shuffled into the kitchen. A duvet draped over your shoulders as you gave a weepy smile.

“Smells good… I’m sorry you have to see me like this, Ace.” You sniffled again, “I-I promise I won’t be a crybaby forever.” Ace rushed over, throwing his arms around your covered shoulders and rubbing your back.

“No, no, sweetheart! It’s okay! I’m not going anywhere. That’s my promise.” Ace consoled despite the sneer he hid in your hair, “Law meant a lot to you. It’s perfectly normal to be upset.” Slowly, he walked backwards until he was next to the counter and picked you up. Gently, he set you down on the counter and braced himself to lean over you, kissing your forehead softly.

“Thank you, Ace.” You whispered, moving to rub your eyes but he beat you to it. Gently wiping away your tears with a soft smile as you shivered. Ace frowned in concern and you shook your head. “Just cold. I… haven’t eaten a lot lately. I-I’m so tired, Ace. But I can’t sleep. I keep seeing Law… I wish I could forget. Just… just for a little while.”

Suddenly, Ace had an idea. A wonderful, brilliant idea.

“I hate seeing you like this too… Could… Could I try something?” Ace asked in his softest voice, “I’ll stop if you want me to but nothing else has worked so I thought…” You frowned, cute face scrunched up in confusion.

“Try what, Ace?” Slowly, deliberately, Ace cradled your face in his hands. Warm palms pressing against your cold cheeks. Not wanting to fuck up this soon, he kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Slow, lingering touches against your skin as you made a confused sound at the back of your throat. “W-What are you doing, Ace?”

“Warming you up… giving you something else to think about.” Ace brushed his hands back, threading his fingers through your hair with a deceptively light pressure to keep you still. “Just focus on me, baby. Nothing else matters. Let me help you forget… just for a little while.” Ace tested the waters by pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. You didn’t move away from him, seemingly frozen in surprise.

He could feel you physically wavering, wanting to pull away out of a misplaced sense of loyalty to a dead man and lean into the creature comfort Ace readily offered. Ace held perfectly still for a long moment before pulling away. Just a little.

And you followed the motion, sliding your lips to press firmly against his own. Ace felt like screaming in victory—but the fight wasn’t over yet. He needed to wipe Law from your mind completely.

Ace sighed, just a little dramatically like he was relieved you didn’t slap him. Pulling open his lips to encourage you to do the same, tongue running across the narrow gap as you gasped. Chasing the sharp inhale eagerly. He slipped his tongue over yours and you pulled away suddenly with a sharp hiccup and tears.

“I-I can’t!” You shook your head, pressing your hands over your mouth as you sobbed. Desperately, Ace soothed his hands over your shoulders.

“Hey—hey, it’s alright. Everything is alright! You haven’t done anything wrong, baby.” Ace pulled you closer to him, ignoring how you tried to jerk away, “I’m sorry… I just hate to see you cry. I want to make you happy again—but I failed—I-I should… I should just leave.” Ace pulled away suddenly and started to turn around.

A cold, desperate hand grabbed his wrist and Ace smirked. You were too sweet for your own good.

“No! A-Ace, please don’t leave me too. I-I just feel so… so alone and cold. I-I don’t know how to make it stop!” You cried out.

Ace slowly turned around with a soft and understanding expression.

“I know, baby. I know.” Ace carefully stepped closer to you, like he was ready to pull away at any moment. “Trust your best friend to make it all better?” Ace leaned in close and whispered into your ear.

With a light sniffle, you nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders with a shiver. Thankfully Ace was here to make everything better again.

“J-Just don’t leave me.” You asked of him.

Like he ever intended to, to begin with.

“Never.” Ace swore, pressing slow kisses across your jaw, “Just… trust the process, baby. Trust me to make it better.” Ace reassured you.

“…Okay. I trust you.” You whispered, the words vibrating on his lips delightfully. Giddy, Ace started back where he left off. Your soft lips were just begging to be tasted properly. Gently, Ace titled your chin up and slipped his tongue back in again. Flicking playfully across your own. Slowly overwhelming you with his presence as your head lifted up for more with every pass. Soft pants slipping between your lips at his sufferance.

Ace kissed you deep, refusing to part from your lips until you were dizzy and gasping for air. Your eyes a slim ring of color around the pupils, lips puffy from his abuse. You were as responsive as he thought you’d be to his advances. Even with that… unfortunate distraction, it was clear you were meant to be his. Completely. And if he wanted to prove it, he’d need to get to work.

Softly, Ace caressed your skin, pushing back the blanket still curled around your body. Stroking up your arms and shoulders as he kept kissing you breathless. Slowly, like he had imagined hundreds of times before, Ace slipped his hands under your shirt. Grip firm as he made his wild fantasies a reality, one inch of your skin at a time. You jolted in surprise, a small noise of protest forming.

The sound muffled under his tongue as he moaned loudly, his vocal appreciation flustering you as he slipped even further under your clothes. Palming your breasts blindly, fingertips brushing over your nipples as a shy groan squeaked out. Ace pulled back, toying with the stiff peaks as a sly grin overtook his features.

“You’ve been so cold baby… are you feeling warmer yet?” Ace asked softly against your lips. Flustered, you nodded. A quick pinch forcing you to use your words.

“Y-Yes!” Pecking your cheek, Ace slowly pulled up your shirt and bra.

“See? We’re just getting started and I’m already making you feel better.” Ace cooed, encouraging you to lift up your arms so he could toss away the clothes. “Go ahead. Kiss me. Don’t be afraid.” Ace gently pulled your arms to his shoulders and returned to teasing your breasts.

Face noticeably warm, you were breathless as you leaned forward clumsily and pressed a damp kiss to his neck. Ace groaned in surprise, squeezing your breasts slightly as he struggled to control himself. His cock was straining in his pants and Ace was surprised he didn’t cum from that shy kiss alone. Fuck, he’d been wanting this for years now. And now?

He was so close he could taste it.

But he had to let you indulge first. Allow you to explore his body like he desperately wanted to explore yours. Carefully, Ace let one hand slide down over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants as he pinched and pulled on one of your breasts. You moaned, mouth open as you kissed the underside of his chin. Humming eagerly, Ace slipped his hand in, enjoying the sharp gasp in surprise as your nails dug into his shoulders.

“A-Ace! W-W-Waa—hah-o-oh~!” Ace cut you off, his middle finger hooking in low to drag up your clit. The slight dampness wasn’t much, but it would do for now. Dipping his fingers deeper, Ace scooped up the growing liquid that pooled against your underwear and ruthlessly used it against you. Slipping between your folds in unpredictable patterns of fast and slow. Hard and gentle. Until you moaned, hips grinding down on his hand.

You were leaning on him almost entirely now, mouth agape as you panted, occasionally gathering enough of your wits to kiss his neck and chest. Leaning down to your ear, Ace whispered praises.

“You’re so beautiful for me.”

“That’s it. Make that pretty sound again, sweetheart.”

“Mmm… so wet.”

“Am I making you feel good?”

“I always keep my promises.”

“Focus on me. Who’s making you feel like this?”

“Go on. Cream for me. I want to feel you.”

You were crying. Good tears this time as Ace crooked three fingers into your wet pussy. Rocking you against his hand with his body, a mockery of how hard he wanted to fuck you. And you responded beautifully. Bashfully hiding your face even as your pitiful noises echoed in the kitchen. You were so small like this, curled up against him.

Ace wondered if he could convince you to a quickie in one of the school closets, the tight space would do wonders for seeing how creative he could get… but the prospect of anyone else hearing your moans killed the idea instantly. Only he would get to see you like this. Flushed and crying out for his hand. Unknowing how hard he was for you. Your heart beating against his palm as he continued groping your breasts with one hand.

“Ace!”

Suddenly, you keened, body freezing as your cunt squeezed his fingers hard. Trying to push him out. He chuckled softly, forcing them deeper into the soft, wet space. Fucking your cunt a little harder to pull out every last moan he could as you started to shake. As you came down from your high, Ace kissed you, stealing those precious sounds from your lips.

He wasn’t done quite yet.

“So beautiful. You did so well… but you could be even better.” Ace pulled his hand free and licked it clean. You tasted somewhat sweet and heady. The taste going straight to his cock as he moaned, much to your embarrassment. “Look at this mess, baby. How can I leave you so wet?” Ace reached down and tugged at your waistband meaningfully.

Your eyes widened as you started to realize what he was implying. You shook your head.

“I-Isn’t that… I-I think this is good enough.” Ace smiled down at you indulgently, hands dipping under your waistband but sliding to your ass instead.

“But I want to make you feel even better. Let me take care of you.” Ace licked his tongue up your neck to your ear, nipping the tip. “I want to put my face between your thighs… lick that cute little clit. Press my tongue between your lips. It must be so wet and messy down there. I want to drink it all up. Let me in, baby. Don’t you trust me?” Ace enticed you, voice a low moan as his hands dipped lower.

You lifted your hips with a moan of your own, allowing Ace to pull your sweatpants down. Leaving you bare on the counter.

Ace, no fool, wasted no time shoving his tongue into your mouth in gratitude. Hands now free to spread your thighs. After moaning, low and deep into the kiss, Ace pulled his head back. Immediately placing one of your breasts into his mouth. Mimicking the motions he was going to make shortly. Flicking your nipple with his tongue and pressing the muscle up and down the supply underside. The sounds you made in shock were divine. You gripped his hair desperately, crying out and panting. Reluctantly, he allowed your soft tit to fall free of his lips.

Slowly losing control, Ace made good on his promise immediately.

Sealing his lips over your exposed cunt and shoving his tongue into your body. Sliding against your walls, eager to taste every inch. Anything you said went right over his head in favor of the twitching heat that surrounded his tongue. Ace was more turned on than ever before at the flood of sweet cream as he fucked you. Occasionally, he nudged his nose up to press against your clit, never failing to inspire a sharp moan from you.

“A-Ah! Ah! H-Hah—ohohoh—A-Ace—ngh! Please! I-I nnnn-ne-HaHn~!” You stuttered and moaned brokenly. Ace’s cock leaking precum as he forced your knees further apart against the force of your twitching thighs.

You yanked his hair suddenly with a scream hard enough to remove him. Ace only had time to glimpse your swollen cunt dripping fresh cum before he snarled and dove back in. Hands moving to grip your ass, knees over his shoulder, as he lifted you up to pin you to his face a few inches above the counter.

You screamed, cunt throbbing hard as you gripped his head, curling over him. He almost choked on the amount of liquid flooding his face, but he noisily sucked it up. Punishing you for pulling away by nipping your clit and triggering a weak splash against his chin. Unable to pull free, you moaned and twitched as he ate to his hearts content. Cock now almost burning against his pants, aching to be deep in your pussy instead of his tongue.

Reluctantly, he set you back down, pulling away just enough to shove his pants down. Cock bobbing free. You jerked back and Ace tutted, gripping your chin to look at him.

“Am I not good enough for you, baby? Can you feel how hard I am? I’m fucking aching for relief, I’ve wanted you for so long…” Ace kissed you, rubbing his tongue still thick with the taste of your own cum around your mouth. Forcing you to taste what had driven him over the edge. “I worked so hard to make your cute little cunt cream for me. To warm you up again. I-I want to feel you around me, baby. Let me have this. Please.” Ace begged softly, grinding his heavy cock into the slick mess between your thighs.

Your eyes were teary as you looked away, still rattled by your orgasm.

Slowly, Ace pressed his hips forward, letting you feel how his cock spread your pussy open. You inhaled sharply and shook your head.

“T-Too much! T-This is too mu—Ah~!” Ace thrust in, hips slapping into your thighs. Ace moaned into your lips loudly.

“O-Oh, I-I’m so sorry baby. Here—oh fuck you’re so soft and tight around me I w-w-want to just ngh!—L-Let me pull out—” Ace slowly dragged his thick cock from the vice grip your cunt had around him. The sudden empty sensation made you dig your nails into his skin and he purposefully slammed back into place. A shrill moan slipped from your lips as he moaned into your open mouth. Ace didn’t need to play up how incredibly turned on he was, gently resting his head on your shoulder and pressing soft kisses onto your skin. “Fuck! Sorry—I-I’m sorry baby—you startled me! T-This time I-I’ll leave you.”

Ace pulled back as reluctantly as he could but his cock didn’t even make it half way before you panicked.

“No! A-Ace—Oh Ace I-I ca-can’t—Y-You pr-prom-promised--!” Ace snapped his hips into your body again.

“Y-You mean it, baby? I-I can fuck you?” Ace whispered in that sad, pathetic voice that always made you tear up.

“Y-Yes! Yes! Ye—AH—OH F-FUCK AHN—Ace I-I-I ooohhhh~hng—ah!” You agreed and Ace wasted no time drilling into you. Slamming his cock into your body fast. Driving all thoughts from the both of you besides how thick his dick was in your cunt and how fast you were already squeezing him.

Just like before, your body was too weak to force him out even as you came. His hips overpowering you to keep fucking you harder and harder. Ace eagerly let every filthy moan and perverse thought spill from him as he worked towards his goal.

“Yes! Y-Your finally mine!”

“I’m going to fuck you so much.”

“Squeeze my cock, baby. I’m so close.”

“I almost came on your tits, you were so fucking beautiful screaming for me.”

“Do it again. Scream for me.”

“Is my thick cock driving you mad? Good.”

“I’m going to cum right here.”

“Remember how good I make you feel.”

“Only for me, baby. That’s right. For me.” Ace felt the electricity shoot up his spine like a live wire as his balls tingled. Every thrust accompanied by a lewd, wet sound from how hard he was slamming into your wet cunt. Nail marks burned along his back as you screamed for him, pussy pulsing around him.

Finally, with a hard thrust, he came as deep into your cunt as he could. The world faded out as his thick cum shot out in hot spurts. He could only faintly hear you crying against his shoulder as his hips made aborted thrusts to fuck his cock deeper. Shakily, Ace rubbed your back, panting into your skin.

It was only after he felt his cock soften that he registered you were crying. Leaning back but not removing himself from the warmth of your dripping cunt, Ace looked at your face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Ace cradled your face gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks. “Let me make it better.”

“I-I-I… How could I?” You whimpered, shaking your head, “I-I betrayed him!”

Ace frowned, pussy-drunk mind slow to process. When it did, he nearly snarled. Almost threw you to the ground to fuck those stupid thoughts from your sweet, impressionable head.

“No! Baby, no you didn’t!” Ace whispered, kissing your lips softly as he made gentle thrusts to hopefully distract you. “He’d want you to be happy. He cared about you so much… and you’ve been so upset. You’ve lost so much weight. You can barely sleep. You haven’t done anything wrong. Put those nasty thoughts out of your head.” Ace slowly started fucking you again.

You moaned, conflicted but still not thinking straight.

“I-I shouldn’t be… It’s so wrong. O-Oh~A-Ace!” You moaned as you felt his cock begin to harden inside you, “I-I’m taking advantage of you—you’re my best friend!”

Ace chuckled, kissing you into silence.

“If this is taking advantage of me, you’re welcome to keep doing it.” Ace groaned, “I’ve always loved you, baby… I just want to see you happy again. Please…”

Ace’s thrusts sped up, disrupting your sobs with moans as the mix of cum dripped down both your thighs. Ace leaned forward, forcing you back and reaching a new angle that had you weak instantly, head slamming into the cabinet. Forcefully fucking you harder against the counter, Ace smiled. Ace grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, walking over to the kitchen table.

Ace shoved you flat onto the table, lifting your hips up to directly fuck into your body. Your tears of misplaced guilt were quickly replaced by pleasure as Ace drilled into you.

He had wanted to play nice and gentle. Let you slowly forget about Law.

But it seems like he needed to take a more firm approach.

“…Trust me.”

Starting with your inability to sleep.

Fucking you hard until you passed out on his cock seemed like a wonderful start on the road to recovering from your useless ex. One day you’d forget his name entirely. Ace was going to make sure of it.

[new-berry]

So @longeyelashedtragedy Anthony Gordon and Tommy Doyle played in some of the England age teams (under 18’s up to under 21’s). Anthony obviously plays for Newcastle and Tommy is in Man City purgatory on lots of loans currently Wolves, last year he was at Sheffield where he scored several times but one bloody exciting goal for them they got them out of the championship.

Anyway they were both in the team that won the under 21 Euro’s. Where Anthony Gordon kept this moustache until the other players saw it, and it was instantly gone. (I don’t know that for a fact, but I know it to be true.)

Touchy!

They spent quite a lot time celebrating. When Anthony taken off in the final Tommy replaced him. (He took it better than that game where he shoved Eddie Howe’s hand away).

They both posted this picture on their instagram and this is the comment Anthony left.

Look Anthony Gordon is probably a (at least slightly, probably more than slightly) arrogant dick head who has grown up and has just the issues that all men’s football players have.

But I guess I’m always slightly protective of my guys. Also he got so much shit from Everton fans when he left, like the shitty Everton statement which was so half assed even talk sports (which is basically genetically evil) was like “that’s a bit rough”.

The ‘fans’ that like boxed the players in their cars and yelled abuse at them. Like seriously did he sleep with every fans wife? There is not a lot of grace there, just saying. And I guess I was interested in this because like.. people seem to like him? He’s not shunned by his team mates (they are right to mock his clothes, I understand that.) I mean he’s a normal talented player. And he has been so much better this season. Has Newcastle? Look I love them I love them. I don’t care.

And until Lewis Miley plays soon, it was nice to have some youth players that were being considered for England squads.

And @purefractals and I can agree that the cheekbones are appealing. So is his back.

Anyway, everything spirals around Frank Lampard who was his coach briefly at Everton. Gordon was one of the better players there (guys I’m not here to yuck anyone’s yum, I try to be amusing about other people’s teams and not an epic dick, but you all watch football you are all fully aware of Everton’s issues.) and so of course Anthony got pulled into the (fictional) Lampardverse madness (by me). Pretty sure I am the only person who has written him ever, but there are many ways to look at it.

He was the first player to post when Frank was shitcanned even though Everton were (you can look it up, I’m not making this up) fucking dire under Lampard.

One of things that is striking about him as a player is he is fucking fast. Anyway, the player growing up, the player who shoved his coaches hand away, and the potentially excellent player who needs to score more (all of bloody Newcastle) even getting the number ten over Miggy he’s someone who has stuff happening around him.

And to draw my talk to a close, he needs to track down the guy who did his hair in Georgia and get him a work visa for England becuase that was the best haircut he has had since he arrived in Newcastle.

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 15: Praise Kink

Rafe being the most stuck-up, pretentious kook the mainland has ever had the displeasure of hosting

Contrary to what Rafe had spent the better part of their relationship believing, Barry didn't graduate in the Outer Banks.

After being introduced to high school buddies while down on the cut, it was an easy assumption to make.

But that wasn't the case. Barry's family had moved to the mainland during his senior year which meant he had to finish the last semester at a new school where he knew no one. That part of his life was very short lived and according to the dealer, unimportant to disclose.

It wasn't like, a private school, y'know? Nothin' like The Kook Academy or whatever, Barry had told Rafe one evening. But everyone was way better off than my folks, I got made fun of for it. Not a big deal, though.

Only Rafe did find that to be a big deal, couldn't imagine a time where Barry wasn't how he is now; mean and confrontational and trigger-happy.

Like a beacon calling him to relive the worst months of his life, Barry receives an invite to his highschool reunion and like everything else, can't hide it from Rafe.

"You're going," insists the boy.

"The hell I am," counters Barry. "Bunch'a assholes I don't wanna waste a night I could be with you on."

Rafe tells him, "Oh, I'm going too."

Arguing with the kook—who was not only an excellent negotiator but could also cry on command—wasn't something Barry did lightly, so with a heavy sigh he agreed.

That was how the older man ended up in front of his old high school, looking the same way it did all those years ago. Only now Barry was dressed exceptionally nice, something he was accustomed to after being with Rafe and forced to attend every prestigious event on the North side, mingling amongst the kooks like he was one of them—and maybe he was, after all this time.

The entryway was decorated with cheap looking fairy lights, glittering white and bright now that the sun had fully set. Everything was so familiar it was unsettling and Barry kept a firm grip on Rafe's hand, a silent plea not to be left alone for even a second in this terrible place. It wasn't that Barry was bullied or anything, just that almost all of these people grew up as upper middle class and had brand-name clothing and fancy Christmas vacations to show for it, a stark contrast to the dealer's upbringing. As someone who spent most of his life in the Outer Banks, Barry could attest that not even the snootiest kook would blindly turn their nose up at him, too familiar with how the other side lived down in the cut. Besides, both sides of the island shared moments together, usually on the beach at the end of summer, and Barry had always had fond memories surrounding those days. Especially when Rafe waltzed into his life. But he supposes it all makes sense; every one of the families in this little town live the exact same cushy way, so it's inevitable that when some boy from the barrier islands shows up with scuffed shoes and second-hand clothes, naturally he would be beneath them. There's a large frame propped up on a table just outside the bustling auditorium filled with grad photos, and Barry can physically feel his boy grin as he's tugged over to it. Blue eyes scour the last names printed beneath the black-and-white pictures but Barry isn't interested in reliving his bad hairstyles, back when he didn't have a clue how to properly care for his curls and instead took the moment to try and make out who was in attendance. Some of the football jocks, clearly, given how obnoxious they were. An English teacher Barry was fond of because she would get side-tracked easily and go on rants instead of making them do work. The vice principal, who now appeared to have been promoted, taking photos with former students with a big, practiced grin plastered on his face.

Once Rafe had snapped a photo of Barry's awful picture, and presumably sent it to Sarah, they were joining the hordes of people from the older man's past. But as the evening slowly went by, Barry hadn't considered who he had at his side. Rafe—who usually carried himself with an air of superiority—was ramping his conceitedness up. They made rounds and the kook was perfectly attuned to his man's demeanour, picking up on Barry's fidgeting and terse words, knowing to turn his nose up at the people before them.

When some guy who used to gang up on Barry in gym class comes over to start bragging about some start-up, claiming it's the next best thing and he's at the top of the game, Rafe listens with the most uninterested look until the other man starts to stumble over his words.

Rafe has a ton of accomplishments under his belt from working with Cameron Industries—seeing how he's their best negotiator and has closed an unbelievable amount of deals in his short few years in the business. The kook will gloat for a few minutes and then smoothly change the conversation to Barry by saying I owe everything to my husband, without his continued support who knows where I'd be and it's so genuine and proud the older man can't find it in him to feel embarrassed, even when Rafe continues to boast about him.

The same process repeats, people will make their way over and try to impress the well-dressed kook to no avail, Rafe only being polite to those who don't make his man all tense and jittery.

Then a woman Barry vaguely recognizes joins them and gets a little too friendly. The older man feels like he's suffering from a spell of insanity at just how upset he gets and how fast, after all, people were drawn to Rafe and flirted with him everywhere they went; the country club, dinner dates, the damn gas station. It always pissed Barry off but this time, watching some random girl from senior year bat her lashes at the kook is too much.

Barry opens his mouth but Rafe beats him to the punch, rejecting the advances without missing a beat and doing it rudely, like the boy is disgusted. And Rafe always does that, too, has never in all their years of being together strayed for even a second, never letting the compliments get to him.

Pride swells in Barry's chest and it's overwhelming, the love he feels.

For a moment the woman can only stare in shock and then her husband is looping an arm through hers and introducing himself.

"Let's go somewhere," Barry leans over to whisper once they're left standing alone.

Rafe takes a sip of the watery cider from a clear plastic cup, mumbling against the rim, "Now?"

"Yeah, now."

With a slow nod, Rafe slips his hand into Barry's and they make their way outside into the dimly lit hallway, only a few people rushing by on the way to the bathrooms.

"You wanna go home?" asks Rafe.

"Nah, not yet," Barry answers. "Havin' you here makes this shit bearable."

Rafe can't wipe the smile off his face as they walk the corridors hand-in-hand, talking idly until Barry tries the door on a dark classroom, finding it unlocked.

The lights aren't switched on as the kook is ushered inside, Barry swiftly closing the door behind them and crowding Rafe against a wall to kiss him heatedly.

There's only one thing on Barry's mind and that's being inside his beautiful boy, leaving a trail down Rafe's throat as he yanks on his own belt.

"You're such a good boy, y'know that?" whispers Barry, sucking harshly on the skin just below Rafe's collar. Hands twist in his dress shirt, black fabric wrinkling but neither of them care in the moment.

Rafe does know—how could be not, when his man is always reminding him? But the compliment makes his belly swoop and his cock jump, half hard in his slacks already, he'll never getting tired of hearing it.

Footsteps fall just outside the door and urgency sets in, Barry turning the kook around, Rafe's cheek pressed against the cool chalkboard as the two of them work together to get his pants and briefs to pool around his ankles.

Barry yanks down his own zipper and feeds his hard cock through the opening, spitting into his palm to smooth down his shaft. Precome drools from the tip, connecting a sticky string from his slit to Rafe's puckered rim where they teasingly meet.

Both of Rafe's hands flatten against the board on either side of his head, panting into the dark room as he impatiently waits, mindlessly squirming in an attempt to get friction.

"I love how desperate you get," Barry mumbles, holding the base of his dick and smacking the tip against Rafe's hole.

The boy snaps in a bratty tone, "Do you like fucking me? 'Cause you're about to miss your chance." His prick hasn't flagged since he got hard, even with all the waiting and Rafe knew without looking there was a small puddle of his precome pooled on the ugly tile floor.

"Yeah fuckin' right," counters Barry, finally easing his fat cockhead in the boys greedy hole. "Could do this anywhere I want, tease you as much as I want, smack you around as much as I want. You're so good to me, baby, letting me do anything to you." Once he's fucked all the way in, one strong arm wraps around Rafe's stomach and his other hand holds the kooks hip in a bruising grip. "You're so fucking sexy when you're mean, actin' like a spoiled little brat—"

"Your fault," gasps Rafe.

Barry's hips are snapping forward, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the spacious room almost as loud as their combined moaning. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd give you anything," pants out Barry. "You feel so good, so tight around me, fuck."

"Make me come," demands Rafe, though it's followed by a whimper. The kooks ego has inflated tenfold since the two men got together, a damn near constant stream of praise falling from Barry's mouth to shower Rafe.

It doesn't matter if he burns the chicken to a crisp or his teeth accidentally graze the underside of Barry's prick too hard—Rafe is such a good boy, such a good cocksucker and the older man worships the ground he walks on.

It's intoxicating and addicting to have a man like Barry, who's tough and strong and unfriendly want him so ardently, to be willing to do whatever it takes to keep the boy happy.

Leaning forward to kiss devotedly over Rafe's clothed shoulder, Barry reminds him, "Good boys don't come without asking permission and you're so good," while speeding up the thrusting. "So go on, baby, ask me."

One of Rafe's hands slide down and off the chalkboard to curl around the arm baring across his stomach and he cranes his neck to look back pleadingly, taking the fucking as quietly as possible given their location but he's losing his composure, shamelessly whining.

"Please?" the boy asks sweetly, glassy eyes wide.

Barry crowds in closer until his whole front is flush with Rafe's back, more rocking into him than actually thrusting, keeping his cock buried deep.

"Please what, baby?" Barry asks.

Rafe begs brokenly, "Please can I come?" while rocking back on the thick length pressed heavenly against his bundle of nerves.

Keeping the kook pinned in place Barry reaches down to wrap a firm fist around his cock. "Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, baby boy, make a mess," he encourages.

Come paints the concrete wall in thick ropes, Barry's hand working Rafe over until he's squeezing his eyes shut in oversensitivity, rim squeezing around the cock pistoning into him.

A litany of praise falls freely from Barry's mouth when he empties inside his boy, lips pressed against Rafe's nape and eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

Barry helps right the boys clothing, kissing over Rafe's ruddy cheeks while smoothing out any wrinkles he may have caused in the boys dress shirt before doing the same to himself.

"You sure you don't wanna go home?" asks Rafe, tucking a curl behind his man's ear. "I just wanted to show you you've got it good, much better than those assholes."

"That's why you dragged me all the way here?" Barry can't suppress an eye roll, palms trailing up and down Rafe's sides. "I know I got it good, baby, I have you." this could technically be an extra from my they don't know they're dating fic that I've only half written, as almost all of the little details are from it

[walker-extended-universe]

Father and Son Bonding: A Meta Discussion

My submission for Walkerverse Hiatus Creations.

Week 1: Favorite Character dynamics- Cordell and August

The bond between a father and a son is a special thing. I think it’s a real shame that we haven’t gotten to see more of Cordell and August together over the course of the show, but season 3 is making up for that in a big way. Their relationship has always been mostly positive, but their interactions are always short and often bear little meaning. Season 3 has done an excellent job in showing how that affected August and what needs to change.

I think season 3 has done an excellent job of showing just how important the bond between a father and a son is, and how devastating the results are when that bond is lacking.

From the very beginning of the show, Cordell has regarded August as the “safe” child, aka the one that didn’t need as much attention from him. August was viewed as mature and able to handle his own issues. It wasn’t until 1x04 and 1x05, when August started suspecting and accusing Cordell of leading a double life and wanting to run away from his own family, that the fog cleared and Cordell was forced to take a long, hard look at his son and how all this affected him. We did get occasional father/son moments but those were rare.

Season 2 still left us with little father/son time but there was a lot going on for everyone in the family and August still seemed to believe he could trust his dad to be there. Perhaps he was just holding onto the fact that his sister, the usual holder of the spotlight, would be gone soon.

Then we hit season 3, which gave us an August that felt untethered and ignored within his own family. He wanted, needed more time and attention from Cordell but, as usual, it was being directed toward his sister as she dealt with a transitional period in her life. He tried to go about this problem in a manner befitting of “August the Noble” by directly asking his dad for support during the flag football match at his school. Cordell failing to show up for that seemed to be the straw on the camel’s back that released months, if not years, of pent up frustration at his father. The result was August taking a page out of Stella’s playbook and acting out to get Cordell’s attention. Ironically, this earned him less attention as Cordell directed his anger at Stella. Even after she moved out, Cordell turned his focus to luring her back. This left August feeling free and easy to do as he wanted.

Until he took it a step too far.

I really want to highlight the scene we got between Cordell and August after the disastrous dinner-

Cordell: Part of me has been so caught up in saying goodbye to your sister that I lost sight of the fact that you’re still here.

Cordell has been too caught up in Stella’s antics to notice his son many times over the past few seasons to the point where he even ignores August’s antics and blames them on Stella and the statement above is very representative of that.

And then we got this:

August: You literally said you don’t even recognize me.

Cordell: And maybe that’s my fault…. You know, maybe part of me thought that you would figure it all out on your own. You know, figure out how to grow up. You were doing such a great job on your own. Honestly, a time came when I thought to myself ‘Hell, what do I even have to offer?’ But, son, it’s my job to help you understand the difference between right and wrong.

August has lost sight of himself in an attempt to become someone his father will notice. Cordell has pledged to help August get himself back on track. Hopefully, we’ll get more moments like this between them as the season continues.

[sothischickshe]

Ahhh thank you so much for taking time to find those fics! I love reading them and tbh they were excellent (of course) haha but I remember this fic was a bit longer I think? Definitely still swim team vibes but might be high school. I think they were close at one point then enemies for a bit before they got together. I remember a part where her family asked about why she didn’t talk about him or something? Again, might be totally losing it here haha but I appreciate the help! 🤍

Oof im sorry anon, nothing is super jumping to mind other than the swimming fics I already suggested 🤔

You may have already tried this but jic: here's a link to all the gg fic tagged as high school au & one to all the gg fic tagged as college au, I can't see anything which sounds like it's about a swim team but possibly perusing might spark something?! (unfortunately not every fic is tagged appropriately so not sure how useful that will be 😢 and ofc it is possible that the fic you're thinking of has since been deleted 😭)

If it helps at all, these are aged down aus about other sports:

Sliding into third by @fairhairedkings ft baseball rio

Pre season by @wakeupflawless ft football ('soccer' 🙄) brio

Watermelon sugar by @querenaxx ft American football rio

Jawbreaker by @riosnecktattoo ft basketball (b)rio

Gasoline by @lilliloves ft boxing rio

Both sides of the law by @joeyjoeylee ft moot court brio (it's a sport if I say it is)

elsewise:

The under and out series by aumontalc is long and begins as a high school au and features shifting lovers-enemies sands

Irresistible by @wakeupflawless is likewise a long au series which starts in high school ft some shifting sands

Shared history by @bensonstablers is a long au similar to canon but where Beth & rio knew each other when they were younger ft flashbacks

Stand by and wait by @pynkhues is abt canon grown up brio trying to ~high school au role play, ft track/runner rio

[liesmyth]

✨ 7 & 31 ✨

7. What's the story or fic that you're most excited to work on or share next year?

OH. I really want to finish the story I began for the TLT Bang that I got stuck on - I need to massively edit if I can pull off the horror vibes but I love what I had! I'm also really excited for some upcoming fic exchanges early in the years, especially Id Pro Quo, because the prompts are always so inspiring (I wrote multiple fics for it this year that were FUN, and also got excellent gifts, too.) AND there's a TL Roy/Jamie fic I haven't even started but I KNOW I want to write it (time loops) (sort of) (you will see)

31. What's a recurring theme that showed up in your works?

According to my AO3 tags "Power dynamics" (that tracks.) According to myself... I really like messy relationships! They're fun to write about! That holds across all fandoms <3

Also when I got into Ted Lasso I made it my mission to throw in Real Football Trivia into my fics for fun, because putting blorbos in semi-plausible situations is like half the appeal to me, so "long author's notes about association football details" has also been a constant for 2023 Elle.

[Fanfic Writer End of Year Ask Game - send me questions!]

[chaunceyandchumleysdad]

R.I.P. Mark Kellar

It is sad to see this news. I used to play racquetball with Mark when he lived in the Chicago area. He later moved to Minnesota, and I never saw him again. He had an outstanding collegiate football career as a fullback. In 1973, he led the NCAA in rushing, beating out notable future NFL players Tony Dorsett (Pittsburgh), John Cappelletti (Penn State) and Archie Griffin (Ohio State). He went on to play two seasons with the Chicago Fire (World Football League) and three seasons with the Minnesota Vikings (National Football League).

Mark was an excellent racquetball player and he taught me a lot about the game. In particular, he taught me patience. Don't panic and try to cut off the ball. Follow it to the back wall and set yourself up for a good shot. He had that part of the game mastered. He never looked like he was playing hard, but he always got to the ball and made good shots.

I have some good memories of Mark. The first time he played at our club, it was in a doubles match that included me and a guy that had a reputation for being ornery. There were a couple of hinder calls by Mark that Mr. Ornery didn’t agree with. At some point, Mr. O., knowing nothing about Mark’s background as a football player, decides to get in Mark’s face and read him the riot act. Mark got in Mr. O’s face, and shouted, “WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO” as I proceeded to wedge myself in between them to try to prevent any fisticuffs.

When Mark joined our club, I recruited him for our travel league team where he quickly became one of the top players in the league. There was a new team that joined the league the year before and their number one player went unbeaten in their first season. In the second season, he was still undefeated when we played his team on their home court. I matched Mark up with this guy, and Mark took care of business and won the match. His opponent did not shake Mark’s hand after the match. Instead, he stormed off the court toward the locker room. Mark causally strolled off the court, and nonchalantly quipped, “I guess I wasn’t supposed to beat that guy!”

I did manage to beat Mark once in our in-house morning league. Knowing that winning two consecutive games against him was virtually impossible, my strategy was to lay it all out and win the first game so that I would have a shot of winning the game three tiebreaker. My strategy worked. I won game three when I buried a ceiling shot in the back corner of his backhand side. When he tried and failed to dig the ball out of the corner, he said, “You talked me right out of it!” I took that as a great compliment from a former pro athlete.

Mark was always easy-going and if we weren’t playing racquetball, we’d always have a chat during our morning workouts. He would get on one those old white and black Stairmasters, set it at top speed, and do it for an hour straight. (By contrast, thirty minutes and medium-low speed was all I could handle.) Mark was never pretentious about his athletic career. However, he didn’t mind talking about it when asked. Though he seldom went out with the racquetball team after our travel league matches, I do remember one night when we sat in a bar, talked about his career and playing in Soldier Field, Metropolitan Stadium and Lambeau Field on cold December days.

Unfortunately, he moved to Minnesota just before cell phones became ubiquitous, so I had no contact information for him after he left. As I later traveled to Minnesota periodically for business, I did try to track him down but was unsuccessful. I played quite a bit of racquetball in the Twin Cities area, but nobody knew of Mark. So perhaps he quit playing the game or I just didn’t look in the right places. He was a part of my life for a relatively short but fun period of time. I hope he has found everlasting peace.