#we'll get back to our regularly scheduled program soon

[gibles-lovely-selfships]

[LOUD at the end]

Hi hello. I forgot I had a blog. And I got sucked up in playing H.ades 2. Sorry about that folks

But hey! Earlier this week, I played a really cool fangame called Playtime with Percy. Very fun game, very nice artstyle, would recommend.

. But it did get very stressful at the end, as my friends ( @marblecore and @dimikissme ) who were in VC with me can vouch NENDNFMDN

[meguwumibear]

ive got more to say about force sensitive megumi.........

The Jedi Masters are in fact pissed when Megumi staggers back to the temple with a fresh patch of inky blue bruises blooming across his flesh like burgeoning miniature galaxies. The Masters are so pissed, in fact, that Master Gakuganji even recommends his dismissal from the order. Yuuji tells him not to worry. Apparently the old geezer is always trying to dismiss Younglings and Padawans who struggle with The Code.

Megumi isn’t worried. Not because he’s certain Master Gakugani’s hold over the High Council is as frail as the man’s boney fingers, but because he couldn’t fucking care less if all the Council members agree with the goon and vote to dismiss him. Fighting is his lifeblood. He just fights the Jedi’s battles now instead of his own.

And, anyway, Megumi has other, more important things to worry about. Like the fact that he can’t stop envisioning the scrappy young girl from the ring who beat him so badly he popped a fucking boner.

At night he dreams of her. Of you. Wretched, ugly dreams that tear screams from his throat as he bolts awake. Dreams that leave his sheets soaked in sheens of sour smelling sweat. In his dreams, you are fighting and you are losing. You are losing over and over and over again.

Then the morning comes and bits of yellow sun begin to crawl their way across his bed, banishing the dreams. Or so they should. Thoughts and images of you beaten and bloody plague him during his daily lessons. They eat at him during mealtime. Visions of your body, broken, bleeding consume him while he mediates.

Megumi asks Master Gojo in passing if all Jedi have such violent dreams. Master Gojo laughs it off because Master Gojo laughs everything off. A Jedi as powerful as Master Gojo cannot make themselves any more threatening than they already are. They cannot take anything too seriously or care too much about these things. Master Gojo tells him to focus on his youth. He also tells him to mediate more as if mediation can solve all the fucking problems in all the fucking worlds.

It's Master Shoko who asks about his force dreams. He’s in the infirmary for an unrelated injury he obtained on some bullshit mission, so he doesn’t understand at first what she’s asking. Once he does, his simmering rage flares viciously to life, scorching, scalding, because Master Gojo looked him in the eyes and laughed.

For weeks these force dreams have tormented him. Visions that devour. He is so, so angry, and he is so, so scared. He isn’t sure if his visions are of the past or something yet to come. He doesn’t know if the future is fixed. If you’re already doomed. If there’s anything he can do to save you.

Worst of all, he can’t find you. He searches the pits of Coruscant all night desperately trying to catch a glimpse of you, but you aren’t at any of the popular rings. The underground is so large he could spend weeks scavenging through back alleyways and seedy bars and still have moved no closer to you.

The Jedi Masters refuse to help. Even though the Force clearly wants him to intervene, wants the Jedi, the fucking keepers of the peace to intervene, they refuse to help. They tell him his fixation on his visions is leading him down a dark path. That fear is the antithesis to peace and serenity. That if he chooses to feed this hunger, it will lead him somewhere void of light, somewhere filled with shadow.

It's the Chancelor of all people he finally finds comradery with. It’s the Chancelor who tells him that if he trusts his emotions, trusts his senses, they will lead him where he needs to be, that they will lead him to you.

The Chancelor is not a Jedi; he has no knowledge of the Force. If Megumi wants to graduate from Padawan to Knight, he should listen to his Masters. He should learn to swallow up his anger. He should mediate. He should let go.

Instead, he closes his eyes. He lets his world go dark. He searches for you.

prt 1 prt 2

[sparky-is-spiders]

A couple years ago when A Starless Clan came out Nightheart hating his name and association with his (male!!) ancestor and admiring a random Windclan warrior and thinking about how well her name suited her spoke to me (<- person who hated its deadname for reasons it didn't understand to be gender-related and constantly tried to justify in other ways) HARD. And I dreamed up this fun time-travel scenario where Nightheart got stuck back in first arc times and met Firestar and came to actually know him as more than a mythical figure and also realized she was a woman and was eventually able to come back to Thunderclan more confident and sure of herself and who she was (and could maybe even. Request. Her Own Name. Instead of Bramblestar just pulling one out of his ass for her instead).

And then the second book came out.

[afterdarkprincess]

I'm deep into one hartbreak fic already but dang it seeing soft old man Bret last night is giving me Old Man Yaoi cravings 😭

[cannibal-nightmares]

constantly in my supposed mind is the sound of a 737 over-speed warning

[dr-docktor]

The ttrpg campaign that I gm for drives me insane (/pos) bc the entire party is comprised of people who's past HEAVILY impacts their current state of being.

And while none of their backstories are truly connected they can all understand each other on a deeper level because of that fact.

And it leads to some FANTASTIC character interactions that leave me reeling every goddamned time ("You're a good person.. But not a very good friend" FUCKING WRECKED ME)

That's all except for one singular party member. A homicidal fish priest who genuinely looks the least threatening out of the entire party.

The dynamic is just so funny to me.

[baocean]

flirt

nice!rafe x reader college au

when rafe cameron finally takes an interest in you, you think its just another one of his one night stands

warnings - smut, swearing, partying and drinking

get comfy, grab a snack, because baby its longgger. i spent all day on this :) (hahaha ha ha h a) anyways, i wanted a nice, possibly even goofy rafe instead of him being batshit crazy all the time. so please forgive the personality change, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programs soon.

when rafe cameron entered the room, everyone swooned. the football star of unc chapel hill, the hottest guy on campus, the flirt. everyone would gladly drop to their knees for him, except you.

it was like something was wrong with you. because you absolutely did not understand what everyone was always going on about over him.

sure, he was tall and handsome. he was good at football. but he seemed like a complete jerk.

you were a sophomore at unc, rafe was a junior. you’d become very familiar with the horror stories of being around and getting with rafe cameron.

he fucks girls then leaves them on read, picks fights for no reason, drinks way too much, and has a god awful ego.

you just did not get it.

at the party, in some worn out, dirty frat, you stood with your friends in a corner, people watching and giggling.

it had been a fun night so far, meeting new people and having a few too many shots.

but when rafe cameron and his friends walked into the room, everyone’s attention was on him.

you saw him, and wanted to scream ‘boooo’. rolling your eyes, you walked away from your enchanted friends towards the makeshift bar.

a drunk frat brother poured you another drink as your phone dinged. you went to check it, and when you looked back up, there he was, in all his materialistic glory.

“hey angel.” rafe lifted the corner of his lip, handing you the cup the brother just filled.

“thank you.” you smiled for only a second, hopefully fast enough he didn’t even see it, then started to walk away.

“hey, wait!” rafe called behind you, useless. you took a guess that tonight, it was your turn to be the special girl in rafe cameron’s life. you didn’t want that title.

your friends stared in bewilderment as rafe cameron stalks behind you, and pulls on your arm ever so gently to get you to turn around.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his face blank of any little smirk he had before.

“depends on who’s asking.” you shrug, taking a small sip of the juice from your cup. it was strong.

“me.” he clarified, a look on his face telling you should have already known that.

“oh. then, no.” you give him a sweet smile. he scoffs, shaking his head.

“and if it’s for my homeboy over there?” his long finger sticks out and points towards one of his friends, one you’d seen on campus before, but couldn’t put a name to his face.

“oh, if it’s for him, get him to come over here and i’ll tell him myself.”

“what’s your problem with me?” rafe’s face scrunched up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“i don’t have a problem, im just not interested.” you give him one last sickly sweet smile, before returning to the group of friends, patiently waiting to interrogate you.

it had only been a few days since your’s and rafe’s interaction. you hadn’t thought about it much, after getting home to your apartment and debriefing your friends, it had slipped out of your mind completely.

that was, until, you saw him walk into the coffee shop you were studying at.

immediately, you ducked your head, hoping not to get spotted.

he went up to the counter and ordered, fiddling with a straw in his hands, back turned to you.

you thought maybe he had missed you, so with a sigh of relief, you went back to your schoolwork.

“hi, angel.” you cringed at the voice. looking up, there he was.

he was wearing a bandana, tied around his head, some old carhart jacket. he had good style, you’ll give him that.

“oh, hey.” you tried your best to not sound so sincere.

“how’ve you been?” he asked, inviting himself to take a seat across from you.

“great. how about you?” his smile lit up his face, thinking he was finally getting somewhere with you.

he went to answer, when you cut him off, “i’m so sorry, i don’t know your name?” it came out more of a question, a dare.

his smile faltered for a second, and you took that as a win, before he stuck his hand out in between you two.

“i’m rafe cameron.” despite protests, you took his hand in yours to shake it, ignoring how much of a difference in size there was.

he raised his eyebrows, “your turn.”

“still not interested. lovely to see you, though.” you let go of his hand, putting your focus back into your schoolwork.

he scoffed, stood over you for a second, appearing to be looking at something on the table in front of you.

he chuckled, low, then bent down a bit. “i’ll see you later, yn.”

he picked up his coffee and walked out the door without a second glance. alarm bells were going off in your head. how could he possibly know your name?

you grabbed your cup to take a sip, and realization hit you like a brick. on the side of the plastic, your name was written in simple black sharpie.

recently, practice hadn’t been fun. especially since rafe realized the football team practices right next to the women’s soccer team. and also, since rafe found out you were on the women’s soccer team.

he’d made every effort to get your attention, calling your name and throwing footballs towards the soccer pitch, more or less annoying you. your teammates would squeal and giggle, and you groaned.

coach called practice, and as you were packing up your gear and getting ready to make the trek back to your locker rooms, you heard the distinctive voice from behind you.

“angel, how was practice?” you turned, seeing rafe, sweaty and red.

you probably looked the same at him. you’d been running on and off for two and a half hours today, you probably did not look your best. rafe would have disagreed.

“fine, thanks.” you wiped your face with a towel, taking your cleats off and finding your shoes.

“you know, when your face is all red like that, it makes me wonder what you look like when you’re getting f-” you hit rafe on the chest with the back of your hand.

“you’re appalling. does that line ever work on anyone?” you were completely disgusted by him right now, even if the thought did draw a little curiosity from you.

“sometimes. let me take you out on a date.” un phased, rafe cameron persists.

“why would i ever say yes after the comment you just made?” you laugh in his face, earning a shit eating grin from him.

“give me one chance. i don’t know what you think about me, but give me a chance to prove im not whatever it is.”

“no.”

“please, angel.” the way his voice upped an octave erupted thoughts, lot and lots of thoughts.

so, you’d finally give him a little bait to chew on for a while. “i'll think about it.”

with that, you left him standing by the benches. you rolled your eyes at the boy, but couldn’t help but smile.

three hours later you had a follow and dm from rafe cameron.

rafecam: have you thought about our date yet?

yourusername: no, not really

rafecam: come on angel

rafecam: one date is all i’m asking

yourusername: that’s all it’ll be since you’ll ghost me afterwards! it’s perfect!

rafecam: ohhh so that’s what you think

yourusername: the answer is no

rafecam: i’m not taking that for an answer

rafecam: it’s yes or yes

rafecam: i’ll be the perfect gentleman

rafecam: im the man of your dreams come onnnn

yourusername: you’re funny

rafecam: so does tuesday night sound good?

read

yourusername started following you!

deciding on something nice, but not too nice, you took your hair out of the rollers and sighed.

it’s your date with rafe tonight. you were feeling a lot of emotions.

you’d gone through rafe’s instagram the night he dmed you, had followed him back. there was even some 'get to know you' conversations somewhere in between.

pictures of his parents and sisters, his friends, pictures of them on a beach, all smiling. no pictures of him out at a party, or arms slung around girls. there was an image to maintain, though. the quarterback at unc, with forty thousand followers, of course he wasn’t going to post that.

you rolled your eyes and jumped up to show your roommate the black silk dress you were wearing for the dinner date at the fancy restaurant in town. anna was funny, bowing down in front of you like you were some god.

the doorbell to the apartment rang and your eyebrows furrowed. you thought, ‘no way he’d find a way to get up here, no way he’d find your apartment, no way he’d willingly come up here and ring my doorbell’.

but there he was, on the other side of the door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. your jaw almost dropped.

he was dressed nicely, a smile painted on his tanned features.

“how did you know where i live. and how do you know about the flowers?” you invited him in, giving him a undoubtedly suspicious look.

“don’t worry, angel. i have my ways,” he smirked, looking at your roommate. “hey anna.”

“oh, okay. got it. got it, thanks anna.” you shake your head, grinning as you put your head in your hands.

“we’ll put these in water then head out, yea?” rafe grabbed the scissors while you grabbed a vase to fill up with water, moving in perfect harmony.

the dinner went well, surprising you. he was a gentleman, like he had promised.

and as much as you hated yourself for it, you swooned, just like that.

his smile, and his jokes, and the lack of inappropriate ones. you thought maybe the bar was on the floor, right now you didn’t care. you could only thing about maybe, you could have been wrong about him.

he’d walked you back up to your apartment on the second floor, carrying his jacket and your heels over his shoulder as you walked together.

when you got to your door, it was unlocked, thank goodness, because you forgot your keys.

“these are yours. angel, i had a really good time. promise you’ll text me in the morning?” rafe asked as he held out your heels, a true, genuine look in his eye signaling he meant it.

you shrugged, love drunk, and pulled his arm so he fell inside with you. “we’ll see.”

he dropped the jacket and heels on one hump on the floor, grabbing around your waist and pulling you in.

the kiss was so desperate and rushed, but still gentle. one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you clung to his neck.

pulling apart, you grabbed his chin and lifted it upwards, placing light kisses on his neck, then sucking. his hands grabbed at your hips.

“you look so good. holy fuck, angel.” he returned the favor, kissing down your neck and shoulder, playing with the strap of your dress with his teeth.

you pulled him towards your room, and at first, he didn’t hesitate.

he faltered once you got to your door, pulling back from you.

“angel, i’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment i saw you, but i want to do this right.”

you were taken aback, not believing the words that were coming out of rafe cameron's mouth. you almost thought he was kidding, letting out a anxious chuckle, met with a confused stare.

"did you just say no to sex?" you questioned. he nodded, looking just as surprised by himself as you were.

he doesn't fucking like me, you thought. how could you be so stupid? of course, of course rafe cameron doesn't want you the same way you want him. do it right? what does that even mean?

and there it was, surprising you again, because since when did you want rafe? have feelings for rafe?

"okay, um well, goodnight, then." you tried, tucking your hair behind your ears and grabbing your heels from the ground.

"okay. goodnight, angel." he took a step forward to try and kiss you, but you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head.

he faltered, heart shooting out of his chest. the one time he tries to treat a girl right, and he's fucked that up, too. he grabbed his jacket, stood up straight, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

rafe: good morning

rafe: do u maybe want to get coffee with me

rafe: or i could get it and bring it to u

read

rafe: helllllloooooo

read

rafe: angel what's goin on

rafe: text me back yn

read

it had been three days since you spoke to rafe. it'd been three weeks since you met him, officially. your emotions had been twisted, confusing. he’d been gone for an away football game. he stopped texting you after that.

you watched the game with your roommate anna, rafe throwing pick after pick, completely off his game. you sighed, hoping that the small flame inside trying to convince you you're the reason he keeps messing up is wrong.

the game ended, they won by one point. the team cheered on the field as number forty six walked off the field, helmet in hand and head hung low.

rafe: can you please talk to me

rafe: i would take you telling me you hate me over this

you: can you come over?

rafe: be there in ten

he was there in seven minutes, actually. looks of hesitation painting his features when you opened the door for him.

"you've been okay? you didn't text me back on wednesday."

"yea, we should talk about that." you nodded. his face slumped, he looked defeated.

"what? what is it, angel?" he took a step towards you.

"listen, i really only said yes to that date so you'd leave me alone," rafe felt a little bit liked he'd been punched. "but that entire date i felt so good, and i was honestly just fine with having one night with you and never speaking to you again. but then you said you didn't want to and whatever you meant by that, i'm not sure, but it, like, threw me off." you rambled, arms crossed over your chest in defense.

"i wasn't gonna have sex with you if it meant i never talked to you again." his blue eyes hidden under thick lashes, unable for you to get a good read on them.

"but rafe, thats like all you're known f-" your hands went up in defeat as you tried to finish your statement.

"was, it was. i wish you'd just talk to me instead, angel. but this-" he waves a finger between you two- "is different. i don't know if its because you give me shit every time i try to flirt with you or that you're just unlike anyone i've ever met, i don't fucking know. but id rather give this an actual try than pretend i could treat you like you didn't mean something more."

speechless, thats what you were. taking two steps forward and pulling him in. he tasted like mint gum, smelled like wood and vanilla. his lips parted, letting you familiarize yourself with his mouth.

he pulled back, "go on another date with me?" you laughed, then nodded, then pulled him back into you.

he pulled back again, "be my girlfriend?"

"you're pushing it, rafe." giving him a peck on the lips.

"well, just using my logic, here. if you're my girlfriend, then that means were giving it a try and we can fuck all we want." he shrugged, a hand finding its way under your t-shirt and onto your hip.

"you sound insane. ask me again later." you whispered into him, pulling him into your room, this time he didn't budge. rafe cameron, in your small, student housing bedroom, pulling your shirt off.

he kissed your neck, bit at the spots he'd sucked, picking you up and rolling onto the bed with you, earning a laugh from you.

you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, rafe helping you out. your hands found their way to his upper arms, he closed his eyes and flexed under your touch, almost unconsciously.

"you look so pretty, angel. always do." he whispered, leaned down to kiss you again. he pulled your thin, loungewear bra to the side, let out a quiet groan, and kissed.

and he would have done anything to hear that small moan from you for the first time again. your hand reaches up to grab his hair as one nipple is in his mouth, the other being rubbed between his fingertips.

"angel, you want this as bad as i do?" he looked up at you, watched you nod, and smiled, kissing down to your naval.

lifting your lips, he slid the shorts off you, then his sweatpants next.

he lined himself up, pushing into you slowly, memorizing the sound of your gasps and moans. surely, this is what heaven felt like. sounded like. "holy fuck."

two strong arms landed on each side of your head as he slid in and out of you.

his words came out all incoherent, with a lot of 'please', 'angel', and 'pretty''s thrown in there.

this wasn't the kind of sex you'd have with rafe, you thought it would be more rough, not sweet and caring.

your eyes closed, his hand flying to your face, gripping your chin. "open your eyes, pretty girl. i wanna see you. wanna see whats mine." you let out a moan, clenching around him, too deep in pleasure to care that rafe knew you liked that.

"say it." rafe moaned, his pace fastening, a steady hand still on your face.

"im yours, rafe." he pulled you up as you gasped for the millionth time. now, riding him, your face was an inch above his, his features looked perfect under the sunlight.

"are you mine?" you got out, in between moans.

"since the first time i ever laid eyes on you. all yours, angel."

[blixxkixx]

We'll go back to our regularly scheduled programming soon but first I'm gonna need to get these out of my system. First image was drawn before the movie, second was after

[lainiespicewrites]

Needing some attention

Hello all! Just a little sherlock one shot that was cooking up in my head! God I love that man!! I promise We'll get back to the regularly scheduled program soon! I PROMISE!!!

Summary: Sherlock is busy with work, and you try your best to stay out of his way but you can be quite fussy when you want his attention.

Warnings: Cursing. Sex MDNI, P in V sex. Fingering, Multiple Orgasms. Creampie. Unprotected sex. dirty talk. Sherlock being painfully handsome! Soft Dom sherlock

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entranced, yes that was the word. I was fully entranced just watching from the doorway. The bright morning sun streams through the window of the study, casting a warm glow around him as he works. His features are almost angelic, of course; truly, he was anything but. The thought causes a soft giggle to escape my lips.

“If you were trying to be discreet, you’ve blown your cover,” he says, his voice low, smooth, and calm. There’s an ever-present smirk on his face. Throughout the whole interaction, he never once looks up from his desk. Another giggle escaped me, and I took a few steps into the study. 

“Not sneaking, simply admiring.” I smile. “You’ve been working at this one for quite some time,” I tell him. I walk over to his desk, standing behind him, my hands gently resting on his large shoulders. His smirk grows wider, and he hums softly. I feel myself gasp as the detective captures one of my hands from his shoulders and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm.

“Yes,” He says, his voice steady and strong. “And still much more work to do. I don’t want to keep you cooped up in here watching me go mad. It’s a beautiful day, darling. Why don’t you go take in some of that lovely sunshine we’ve been blessed with, and I’ll work on finishing up here.” I bite my lip, my eyebrow raised in question, but I hold back my protest. Sherlock is a busy man. I’ve always known that. He never blatantly tries to ignore me or keep me otherwise occupied. So I nod, giving him a soft smile. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Okay, my love, please try not to go too crazy, will you?” I giggle. The request earns me a chuckle, and he looks up briefly to meet my gaze as I move to leave his study. 

“I shall do my best, my darling.” He says before turning back to his work, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right; as always, I shouldn’t waste away in this flat waiting for him to finish his work. 

So I do head out to town for a while. I walk the streets of downtown London in the warm spring air, breathing life into me. I stop at the market to see what fresh flowers they’ve got. Baker Street could certainly use a touch of color, and I know Sherlock won’t mind. After picking out a few bunches, my basket full of florals, herbs, and a few baked goods, I make my way back to the flat. It’s late afternoon now. I busy myself arranging the flowers in vases and putting away my other goods. 

I still haven’t heard a sound from Sherlock. Peeking my head into his study, I see he’s still right where I left him. I sighed and shook my head. With nothing better to do I join him in his study. I scan his shelves for something to read, it’s been one of our favorite ways to spend quiet time together lately. Lying together in the garden, reading our respective stories. I look over at him again; still lost in his work, he’s probably barely even noticed my presence. Finding a story that is a particular favorite of mine I curl up on the chaise and open the book. 

This may not have been nearly as good an idea as I’d thought. Since I woke this morning, I’ve been craving Sherlock's affections. Sitting so close now, only to be ignored and left unnoticed, has only annoyed me. I let out a huff, sitting up and looking over at his desk… nothing. I sigh and turn back to my book. I lie back, settling in again, struggling to get comfortable. Another hour passes. Or at least it feels like an hour. I suppose I can’t be sure. And I feel as if I’m going to go insane. I let out a groan of frustration.

“Not enjoying the story?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. He’s far too smart to believe that is the source of my plight. I pull back from my book far enough for him to see me roll my eyes, and he chuckles. “I do so love watching you squirm.” He says with a dark glint in his eye. And finally, he lays down his pen and slams his book shut. I raise an eyebrow at him, not daring to speak a word, but my eyes are full of challenge. 

“I was hoping to spend a nice relaxing evening with you, my darling,” he teases. “But seem’s you needs an attitude adjustment.” He’s standing behind me, his breath hot on my ear as he purrs. “Am I going to have to fuck it out of you darling? Or are you going to apologize for being so bratty and impatient?” My mouth goes dry, and my body is suddenly on fire. 

“S-sherlock.” I gasp. “I- my love, I didn’t intend to … I-” I stutter, trying to find the words, but it seems all competent thoughts have left me. This is just how he wants me. This is exactly what I meant, Sherlock is no angel. He likes to play dirty. Make me flustered and shy and needy. He won’t stop until I’m begging. Nothing gives him more pleasure than making me tell him all the dirty things I’d love him to do to me. All it takes is a look, and he has me melting. And as annoyed with him as I am for turning me into a brainless, incompetent, desperate woman. He knows this is exactly what I’ve been needing all day. 

He chuckles and steps around the sofa, standing in front of me. He takes the book from my hands, tossing it to the side. He leans over me, a primal look in his eye as his knee gently parts my thighs and he hovers over me on the sofa. 

“What didn’t you intend to do, my love? Hmm? Did you not intend to huff and pout for my attention? Is that it?” He smirks, nipping playfully at my ear as he chuckles darkly.  “You just forgot your words, didn’t you darling, just forgot how to ask properly. It’s alright, my sweet. I’ll remind you.” He purrs his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as his tongue traces my collar bone. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” I pant, my chest heaving. Instinctively, I tilt my head back to allow him better access. He lets out a feral growl, and his hands squeeze my hips possessively as he starts to explore my body with his touch. 

“Oh, I know you are my sweet. And I’m going to give you the attention you so badly need.” He smirks, his hands slide under my skirt gripping my thighs, a low growl escaping him as he kisses my neck. I let out a soft needy moan my body arching into his my thighs naturally spreading to make room for him. He chuckles his breath tickling my skin where he’s biting at my collarbone. 

“Still so impatient; you haven’t learned your lesson, have you my darling?” he cradles my face in his hands, kissing me passionately. His tongue explored my mouth as we kissed. When he pulls back, he grabs my wrist, nearly dragging me off the chaise. Before I can begin to fall, he catches me, holding me against his chest. “Now what should I do with you?” He purrs. I look up at him, my eyes blown wide with lust and desire. 

“Sherlock, please,” I begged, my voice weak and pathetic. He lets out a low growl that I can feel deep in his chest. He grabs me around the waist, picking me up he holds me tightly with one arm as the other sweeps the papers from his desk.  He sets me down and steps between my parted thighs.

“Please what, my love? Hmm?  Ask for what you want darling.” He teases his hand, slowly creeping up my thigh again. his fingers graze the fabric of my panties, and my breath hitches. 

“I-I can’t.” I blush, biting my lip. Sherlock chuckles his other hand gripping my chin to make me look at him. 

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. You’ve had those filthy little desires playing in your head all day. And I want to hear every detail,” he growls. My breath catches in my throat as I hold his gaze. 

“T-touch me,” I beg and grab his wrist, pressing his fingers more firmly against my core. “Here, please,” I whine. Sherlock lets out another low growl, capturing my lips in a searing kiss as he starts to slowly rub me through my panties. I whimper and arch into his body. 

“So wet already. You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He smirks, and finally, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric of my panties, pushing two inside me, curling them as he starts to pump them in and out. I let out a desperate mewl, my hips moving, grinding on his hand. He moves his thumb to rub circles on my clit. He smirks as he watches my face contort with pleasure.  “That’s it, my love. So beautiful when you’re like this. So desprate for my affection. He adds a third finger and pumps them faster, curling them just right so I’m seeing starts. My hands come up to clutch his shirt, my thighs shaking and head falling back, letting out a needy moan. My walls clamp around his fingers gushing on his hand. 

“Oh sherlock!” I whimper, panting as I come down from my orgasm. 

“That was beautiful sweetheart,” He smiles, kissing me tenderly. “We’re far from done. You know that, don’t you?” he teases. I giggle, nodding shyly. Without further preamble, he tears open my blouse, his eyes raking over me hungrily. He tears off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and cups my face, kissing me passionately. He gently pushes me back, laying me back on the desk, his lips trailing down my body. He stops when he gets to my breasts squeezing them softly and leaning down to capture my nipple in his mouth sucking and flicking with his tongue. I moan loudly, my back arching, pushing my breast further against his mouth. 

He groans sucking soflty and then swithing to give attention to the other breasts. He shoves up my skirt, bunching it around my waist, and then fumbles with his zipper. 

“I can’t wait be inside you,” He moans. I gasp as I feel the thick head of his cock brush through my folds

“My love, please, I need to feel you filling me. Make me whole.” I beg. With a feral growl, he surges forward, sheathing himself inside my tight heat. He lets out a groan, giving me only a moment to adjust before he sets a punishing pace. 

“Fuck,” He moans. “You’re so tight, so perfect, darling. Is this what you needed, my sweet? To be filled and taken. Reminded who you belong to?” I nod and let out a breathy moan. He pulls my leg up around his hip and drives into me deeper. The angle allows him to hit that perfect spot deep within me. My eyes roll back, and I feel myself climbing to my high. 

“My perfect girl,” sherlock praises his as he brings his thumb between us to rub my clit. My body shakes beneath him as he captures my lips in another searing kiss.” Thats it, my love. Let go,” he coos. “Let me feel all your pent up desire and love as you cum for me.” he encourages. I feel my pussy spasming on his cock and he growls “Good girl,” With those words I tumble over the edge my toes curling my head falling back gushing on his cock as my body trembles with pleasure. 

“Sherlock!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me and he fucks me through it. I feel his hips start to falter and he takes my hand pinning my wrists to the desk as he fucks me, his breathing ragged as he lets out a string of incoheart praises. 

“Yes,.. fuck.. You’re perfect, my love. Gonna fill you with my seed… such a good girl for me. Take it all, darling.” He growls in my ear, his body going stiff as he releases inside me. His hips jerk softly as he works himself through his orgasm. 

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies connected and whole. With a soft groan, Sherlock stands and slowly pulls out of me. He takes my hand, helping me sit up on the desk. He cups my face and peppers it with kisses, pulling back and searching my face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, his voice soft and tender. I nod a satisfied smile on my lips.

“Yes darling, I’m perfect.” I giggle. “I am sorry for being such a brat when I’m being needy.” I blush, ducking my head to tuck myself against his chest. Sherlock chuckles. 

“I know you are, my sweet. the truth is.” He says with a slight smirk in his voice. “I quite enjoy it, I was finished with my work hours ago. But I do so enjoy watching you squirm.” He winks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!! Tag list

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[eighth-heroine]

even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

[martian-messages]

We are now into The Lost Sols!

If you haven't read them yet, you're in for a treat -- The Lost Sols is a short series of entries that were released for the tenth anniversary of The Martian's publication. After that, we'll be back to our (not-so) regularly scheduled programming!

As for the couple of asks sitting in my inbox -- don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you! I love the idea of a community and I'll definitely put some thought into it later. Concerning the other short stories -- great idea, I'm still looking into it, as I haven't had much bandwidth for that kind of research. As soon as I have time, I'll respond to your asks with more concrete answers!

I have one more mass posting run to make that will get through May, and that's the end of the 2023-25 season! I'll have more info at the end of May, but expect your subscriptions to be rolled over to Wordpress before we start up again in November. With this migration I'm hoping to start also posting MM entries to this Tumblr account -- so expect a few test runs before we get underway.

As always, thank you so, so much for following Martian Messages! This has been a really cool project to work on and I'm excited to continue this fall. I hope you're all enjoying Mark's final journey, and I'm excited to being him home together.

Alright, I've talked long enough. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you on Mars!

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Chapter 10: I Want Her

Charlotte's Club Outfit:

Charlotte's Baseball Outfit (Except Pretend it's a Cubs Jersey:

A Pic of People Being Subjected to Charlotte and Lip PDA:

Note: Hiii! This took longer than I thought, apologies, but here it is! It's a little shorter but when I'm less busy we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you so much for all of the love I've been receiving on this, it means the world. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading :) <3 Also hopefully I got this damn tag list right this time. Let me know if you wanna be added!

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @heavenly1927 @th3h0nkz @yezzyyae

“So, you don’t think he’d like a flask with a drunk Mickey Mouse on it?”

Lip chuckles as he balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are busy jotting down a string algorithm for one of his bosses that he’d figured out and memorized earlier that morning. “I think Mickey would like us to buy him some shots while we’re out tonight. And I think Mickey deserves nothing but us showing the fuck up.”

“Aww,” Charlotte whines on the other line, Lip can basically hear the pout he knows is on her face. “I wanna give him something to open. Knowing you Gallaghers Ian’s probably just giving him dick for his birthday. He can’t unwrap that. Unless I pick up a bow for him to put on it.”

“Uh, really don’t want to think about you helpin’ my brother put a bow on his dick for his boyfriend, babe.” Lip sniffs, curling his lip up in distaste.

“Such a prude.” she chirps. 

Lip ignores her, finishing up what he’s doing and ripping it from the notepad, going back to his computer to check his work. Suddenly, there’s a knock at his office door. It’s so weird for him to say, his office. Well, it's his and the other paid intern’s office to share. All of the poor fucks working for free share cubicles downstairs and the real employees get their own offices on Lip’s floor. But it’s mostly his, the other guy’s uncle is one of the big bosses and he rarely actually comes to work and normally when he does, it’s to play foosball with the other trust fund babies before going to happy hour. “Yeah?”

The door swings open and Eric comes strolling in, tossing a foam stress ball back and forth between his hands, the same douchebag look he always has is painted on his face. “Hey, Gallagher, you got time for a quick favor?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” Lip brings one hand to the phone, holding it sturdily against his ear. “Charlotte, I gotta go.” He tries to ignore the immediate irritation at the way Eric straightens when he hears Charlotte’s name.

“Ooh, Charlotte, huh? Someone important must be in the room.” she jokes.

“Oh, shit, the girlfriend. Put her on speaker.”

“I’m,” the blond tries and achieves, albeit poorly, to contain his temper. “I’m not putting her on speaker, man.” 

“No, bubba, it’s okay, I’ll say hi.” her sweet voice intercedes. Lip curses under his breath before putting the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Phillip’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

Eric pulls up one of the extra seats of the room, leaning into the phone rested on Lip’s desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric, Gallagher’s boss.”

Lip scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head, looking away. He could tolerate shitheads like Eric all day, but with his girlfriend watching? It was a whole new ball game. “Aye-”

“For now,” Charlotte hums on the other side of the line. “But my baby is a genius, he’ll be running that place soon.”

Both Eric and Lip go silent for a moment, the latter trying to work away the smug smile that starts to spread on his face. Eric blinks before schooling an easy look on his own face and offering a laugh that’s a little too loud. “Yeah, I believe it.”

There’s an awkward silence where Lip just watches Eric rock between his two feet, staring at the phone on the desk, waiting for Charlotte to take back what she said, compliment him to even things out, or just politely hang up. He smirks, ducking his head at the fact that this dickhead just doesn’t know his girl. Charlotte would ride an awkward silence until the wheels fell off. Simply because she doesn’t think to fill it. That’s just who she is, she doesn’t fill silence, she doesn’t laugh at jokes she doesn’t think are funny and her fake smile looks more like an awkward grimace. 

After a minute passes Lip decides to take mercy on the poor guy and hang up. “Uh, bunny, I gotta get back to work, alright? I’ll meet you at the house when I get off.”

“‘Kay!” she chirps. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Lip leans on the small wooden desk and waits for Eric to recover from the uncomfortable moment. “You, uh, needed something?”

“Right! Right, I did. Do. I need you to run some diagnostics on a program my dad sent over, I’d do it, but there’s so much on my desk right now, and you’re the only one who's as fast as me.” 

“Sure,” Lip shrugs. “Send it over.” 

Eric claps his hands together, a wider smile on his face as he turns to leave. The man stops mid-step, turning to face the blond again. “Hey, Gallagher, what’re you doing this weekend?”

“It’s my brother’s boyfriend’s birthday tonight so I’m gonna go to that. After that, I'll probably just find something to do with my girl, why?”

“You like baseball?” Eric asks. “Cubs are playing, me and some of the guys are going. You should come.”

Lip tries to look disinterested. He knows however much the tickets are he couldn’t pay it unless he dipped into the money he and Charlotte had been saving, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to sit where these rich pricks sit unless he emptied the damn jar. “I dunno.”

“C’mon man, my dad already bought the tickets. It’s team bonding and shit.” Eric continues, leaning against the door frame. “It’s on Sunday, there’ll be beer and baseball, what more do you need to know? You can even bring your girl, everyone else does when we go. Except the ugly fuckers who don’t have one.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, talk to Charlotte.” Lip says noncommittally, eyeing the other man as he nods, turning away and exiting the office. “‘Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian used to worry about his brother a lot. Really. See, Lip is the oldest brother, and he’s never stepped out of that role. Despite coming off as a pretentious, narcissistic asshole, his big brother was actually a decent person. He cares about his family. When they were younger and Monica and Frank were in and out, Fiona and Lip had to grow up quickly. Everyone always talks about how Fiona stepped up. How she became their mom, but no one talks about how even though he was only a couple years older than Ian, Lip became their dad. For the younger kids, Lip is the only steady father figure they know. 

And being real, the kid has fuckin’ issues with women. Probably Monica’s fault, and all of their mommy issues manifested in different ways, Lip and Carl just have the misfortune of being straight. Between that raging bitch Karen who literally got off on fucking shit up for him, that old bag he was fucking at school, that one rich crazy bitch, and Mandy, Lip had been through the ringer. Not that most of that chaos wasn’t self-made. Ian wasn’t blind, he knows his brother is a slut. 

So, when sweet, prissy, little Charlotte Fisher rolled into town with her big innocent brown eyes, wide smile and soft hands that would tell anyone she’s never worked a day in her life, Ian had been nervous. She’s nice, their little siblings love her, and he thought his brother would absolutely ruin her. Sometimes he still does think that. 

But as time goes on, his mind has started to change. Lip has never called a girl his girlfriend outside of trying to get her into bed before. He’s never walked around with a polaroid picture of a girl in his wallet. He’s never tried this hard. This shit might be for real and Ian is happy about it. 

Now, he and Mickey have an actual couple to hang out with.

“Last one.” Lip takes a deep drag from the blunt between his fingers, turning his head in the direction away from Charlotte as he blows out the smoke. He passes the blunt back to Mickey before walking a couple steps away where his girlfriend stands, wrapping his arms around her to share the warmth as she shivers. “Told you you’d be cold. Gonna catch fuckin’ pneumonia.”

“The cold doesn’t make p-people sick. G-germs do.” she sasses, leaning into him, letting out a small sneeze. “Don’t say anything.”

“Too worried about being cute. Should’ve made you put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

“Nah,” Mickey says, flicking the burnt leftovers of the blunt to the ground, walking over. “Princess here is our ticket to free drinks, she’s dressed the part.” 

“We’re not pimpin’ my fuckin’ girlfriend, Mickey.”

“Isn’t she gonna start strippin’ like, next week? What’s the difference?”

“Oh-kay.” Ian interrupts, throwing his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him, “Let’s go in.”

“Wait,” Charlotte pauses, before they can start walking up the street to the bar. “Is, um, is Mandy coming? Because, you’re her brother and I don’t wanna, like,” she gestures between her and Lip, “rub it in, you know?”

“Nah, you’re good. M’seein’ her tomorrow, shithead has to work tonight.” Mickey shrugs. “Now, I’m sick of standin’ here talkin’, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and I’m fuckin’ sober, it’s ridiculous.”

The group makes their way into the busy bar. It was one of the few nights they had a DJ instead of a live band which was likely the reason it was so busy. Mickey and Ian shove their way through the crowd, Charlotte right behind them with Lip’s arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, holding her to him. 

Once they find a spot with a little space, Mickey turns around and nudges Charlotte. “C’mon princess, this pussy already said he’s not drinkin’ cause he thinks he needs to watch me or somethin’, go shot for shot with me.”

Before the woman can even answer her boyfriend’s free hand is cupping her jaw, guiding her to look back at him, pulling her into a kiss. The word ‘no’ mumbled against her lips. She pouts, and the pair mumble amongst themselves as Ian and Mickey watch. After a few moments Lip rolls his eyes and nods, kissing her lips again before letting her go. 

Charlotte bounces excitedly, grinning at Mickey. “Kay, you wanna see something cool?” Without letting him answer, she straightens, rolling her shoulders back and putting an arch in her back as she walks a little ways away to the bar where a couple of guys are standing. She leans forward on the bar, poking her butt out a little as she looks around, appearing bored.

It’s not long before one of the guys turns to her and starts talking, leaning down to whisper in her ear as his friends behind him stare at her ass. Ian turns his head to look at Lip, who is looking away from his girlfriend, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. 

A couple moments later, Charlotte was coming shuffling back with three shots and a beer balanced in her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Drinks on me gentlemen.” she says, passing two shots to Ian, one for him, one for Mickey and handing Lip the beer. Lip’s finger slips through her back belt loop, tugging the girl to him again as he locks eyes with the guys who've purchased them over her head, sipping the beer they’d just paid for. 

“Bottoms up, princess.” Mickey says, bring his glass to Charlotte’s before tossing it back. The men chuckle as the girl sputters and gags at the taste, one eye twitching with discomfort.  Lip runs his hand along her side soothingly.

“Yuck, I don’t want any more of those.”

Charlotte had several more. Three and a half. She didn’t get a chance to finish the last shot before Lip wrestled it from her hands, slamming it down on the bar and pulling her away from it. 

She, Mickey and Ian had done their fair share of dancing. It mostly consisted of Ian and Charlotte taking turns grinding on Mickey to irritate him and the two men occasionally stepping away to dance with each other, only pausing to scare off whatever guy that was trying to get Charlotte to give them the time of day. Lip lingered at the bar, offering them supportive nods and nursing his beer. He’d chosen not to drink too much considering he’d already smoked and his girlfriend was currently slurring her words together as she stumbled her way over to him.

“Hi, bubba.” she hums over the loud music, swaying to the side a little as Lip’s arm shoots out to balance her, pulling her to him. He nudges her nose with his before looking at her wide smile and lidded eyes.

“Hi, baby. Havin’ fun?” He smiles.

“Yeah.” she tosses her arms around his neck leaning into him. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“M’not, c’mon.”

“You haven’t danced with me at all, let’s go over there.” she whines, pulling at him and pouting.

Lip taps her lightly on the back of the thigh, “Stop whining” he murmurs in her ear before turning her so her back is against his front. Lip slides his hands down Charlotte’s sides to her hips, pulling her close to him. “I don’t dance.”

The woman in front of him rolls her eyes, placing one hand over his and the other going to the back of his head, burying in the hair at his nape. She turns her head so she can look at him with a sleepy smile. “You do with me.”

Lip leans back on the bar, wetting his lips as he watches Charlotte roll her ass back against him, grinding on his dick. His blue eyes shift between her ass and trying to get a glimpse of her face, one of his hands moving to the gap in the back of her jeans, grabbing the space there to guide her movements, biting back a groan when she bends in further, arching in front of him. 

“Gettin’ sick of this place, ready to go birthday boy?” Ian asks as Mickey yawns. His mission was accomplished, he’d taken his boyfriend out, showed him a good time for his birthday. Tomorrow they’d do the family vibe, with cake, streamers, and his one sane sibling. He slings his arm around him and goes to guide him over to his brother and his girlfriend. The last he’d seen the pair they’d been basically fucking through their clothes against the bar.

The redhead pauses in his steps, laughing disbelievingly at the sight in front of him.

A couple feet away is his brother, his girlfriend in his arms. The pair are quietly laughing and leaning back and forth to whisper in each other’s ears. His brother’s stance is relaxed, the only thing tense on him is his grip on his swaying drunk girlfriend, an easy smile that Ian hasn’t seen in a long time on Lip’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d say he seemed happy. Charlotte’s hands cup his face as she drunkenly presses kisses all over his face, leaving pink lip stains all over his mouth, cheeks and neck. 

Ian didn’t want to break up the scene but he’d really needed to get Mickey home. Once he’s rounded up the group, he and Lip guide their drunken partners to the car, ushering them in, and shushing Mickey’s slurred curses. After he drives Ian and Mickey to Mickey’s home Lip pulls off with a still very drunk but now a lot less rowdy Charlotte in the passenger seat, promising to return the car the next day. 

Ian watches as his older brother climbs into the driver’s seat of the car, checking the girl’s seatbelt and brushing the hair out of her face tenderly before the drive into the night. As much as he’d felt bad for Mandy he’d known that she and his brother would never work. Ian loves her, but Lip didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He couldn’t convince her of that. But Ian almost wishes that she’d seen Lip tonight. He was a different person when he was with Charlotte, not so bitter. Not acting like he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As crazy and fucked up he is, Ian knows Mickey is what’s best for him. He’s starting to think Charlotte is what’s best for Lip.

“Fuckin’ Frank.” Fiona huffs, ripping her covers off at the sound of her front door opening. She’d bet all of the dollars she doesn’t fucking have that it’s him. Either way, him or whatever idiot decided to try to rob them were gonna get a bat to the face. She eases down the stairs, wooden weapon in her hand as she flicks the light on. “Jesus, Lip!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells. Slung over his shoulder is a giggling, very likely drunk Charlotte. 

“Shit, is Lottie drunk? Good going genius she’s not supposed to drink ‘til her birthday.” Fiona hisses, running a hand over her hair and dropping the bat onto the couch.

“Well, Mickey decided they’d share today.” Lip grumbles, adjusting his girlfriend on his shoulder before pushing past his sister and going up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he feels her following closely behind. 

Lip rests Charlotte softly on the bed, looking sighing as she flops backward. “No baby,” he pulls her up by her arms. “Up.”

Fiona leans in the doorway and watches in shock as her little brother cares for the girl on the bed in front of him. She’d never seen him be so gentle with anyone they weren’t related to. He chuckles lightly as he encourages the still giggling girl to lift her arms, tugging her tight t-shirt up and over her head, reaching around and unhooking her bra before digging in his drawer and pulling out one of his bigger shirts to pull over her head. “Pass me one of your wipes if you’re gonna stand there.” 

“Oh-” Fiona had forgotten herself, so shocked by the scene, she quickly walks over to the bathroom, grabbing her pack of makeup wipes and handing them to her brother. 

Lip takes the wipes and crouches in front of the girl, resting his hands on her knees. “Wanna go wash your face or are wipes good for now. Can you get up?” Charlotte’s eyes are clearly heavy, she leans her forehead against his, giggling as she shakes her head no, rubbing their heads together. “No? Okay, eyes closed, bunny, or it’ll burn.” The woman whimpers and struggles drunkenly as he drags the cold wipe across her face. Blue eyes sharp with focus as he tries to get every bit off. When he’s satisfied that he’d gotten all he could he kisses her lips before pushing off of the floor and reaching under his pillow, producing a light pink scarf. “Stay still, you know m’not good at this part.”

“Don’t wan’it.” she whines.

“You’re drunk, and you’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, if I don’t put this shit on you. Sit still.” Lip cups her jaw, giving her a serious look, only to be met with a wide grin. Fiona chuckles behind them, shrugging when her brother cuts his eyes at her.

“She’s gonna need aspirin and water for tomorrow.” Fiona offers.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I’ve had her chugging water since the bar-ow!” 

Both Gallagher siblings look down to a now half asleep Charlotte, clean faced with her scarf tied as neatly as Lip could manage on her head, hanging slightly to one side. Her hand is up, offending fingers suspended in the air after pinching Lip’s arm roughly. “Ow.” she mocks, her eyes closing. “Be nice. She’s helping, trying to help me.” she slurs.

Lip rolls his eyes, offering a gruff, ‘sorry’ to his sister, as he nudges his girlfriend to lie down in the bed, kissing her forehead. “‘M’fuckin’ helpin’ you, brat.”

Another hand reaches out, this time to roughly tap him on the cheek. “Thank you, bubba.”

Fiona snickers again. “Bubba?”

Lip huffs, now starting to get himself ready for bed, flicking his sister off as a cue for her to exit. Fiona quietly closes the door behind her and returns to her room. 

As she climbs into bed, she thinks to herself about all of the times she’d been embarrassed about her brothers’ behavior with women and men alike. They were sluts, the both of them, minus Liam and Carl. And often selfish, rude and disrespectful. But now they’d both found people who made them better. Who taught them how to care for people the right way, outside of the family. She was happy to watch them experience young love, no catches, no conditions, no reason to be hard all the time. They’d found people who looked at them like they were worth something. Worth everything. Fiona resolves to herself that she would find that for herself and hope her remaining siblings would do the same. She hated not being able to chat with V about the extent of Lip and Charlotte’s relationship. But maybe it was worth it. Maybe Charlotte and Mickey were. Even if they are extra mouths to feed. 

Eric takes a sip of his beer and nods along with another dull conversation with his coworkers that he was forced to pretend he was friends with. They’d been here for fifteen minutes and thus far, two of them had disappeared to do coke in the bathroom, several of them had fought with their girlfriends/wives/fiancés and the rest had been droning on and on about the stock exchange, something that he truly knows nothing about. His fucking accountant handles that shit for him. He was bored and annoyed to say the least. The game hadn’t started yet and Rebecca had been a bitch all morning. She was mad because she didn’t feel like coming to sit through a baseball game, despite the fact that they’d not only have a box but an open bar pre-paid for. The only thing that got her dressed was a promise to take her out for sushi after. Eric fucking hates sushi. 

Really, he was waiting on Gallagher. He’d actually been surprised with how much he liked Lip. He figured they’d have nothing to talk about, but the guy was pretty quiet in general. He was a great listener, and when he did say shit, it was actually important. Sure he seemed a little wound-up but he’d heard from his dad that their family friend, Ms. Helene helped him get this job because he’s broke and has got like, a family of 9 or something. Eric found the little snippets of Lip’s life he shared interesting. Like…well…his hot sister who’d stopped by for lunch one day. And his even hotter girlfriend he has a picture of on his desk, next to the picture of the 5,000 kids he lives with. 

Lip shows up with Charlotte fifteen minutes before the game is about to start. The pair walk up, hand in hand, matching pace with his easy strides and her peppy steps. When they approach one of the guys from legal (Eric thinks) says what they’re all thinking under his breath. “Goddamn.”

The woman is wearing a cropped, long sleeved black top with low hanging black pants, her sparkling belly button ring on display. Over top is a button down jersey she’s left open and on her head is a matching Cubs hat, her long, silky black hair hanging down over her shoulders. 

Lip is wearing a similar outfit, but with a black fitted sweater, his larger fingers intertwined with her smaller manicured ones. 

Eric forces himself to stop ogling the girl, clapping his hands together and welcoming them over. “Gallagher! You made it, glad you came.”

“Uh, thanks for having us.” he pulls the girl closer by her waist, obviously noticing the eyes on her. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The girl says sweetly, offering him a smile as she leans into her boyfriend. 

Eric urges his eyes to stay on her face, and off of their body language. But the way Lip’s thumb is rubbing along the skin on the girl’s waist, the way she’s staring up at him so adoringly, Eric felt like he was being excluded from something, despite fully being part of this conversation. 

He doesn’t realize he hadn’t spoken until Lip takes it upon himself to introduce him. “Bunny, this is Eric.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m Eric, I uh-” he remembers her negative reaction to him referring to himself as Lip’s boss and flounders for an alternative. “I work with Lip.” 

“Yeah, he told me.” she chirps, rocking on her feet a little. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve never gone to a baseball game. I’m gonna try my best to keep up, Phillip tried his best to explain to me on the way here.” 

“Aw really? Well, my girlfriend Becca is an old pro, I drag her here all the time, she’ll teach you the ropes of how to keep occupied while we watch the game. Go join the ladies, she’s the one looking like she didn’t know she was coming here in slacks.” Eric smiles. His smile drops slightly as he watches the couple exchange a look. 

Lip tilts his head downward, lowering his voice to a murmur Eric strains his ears to hear. “Do you wanna go?”

Charlotte mulls it over for a second before shrugging and patting his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine, hang with the guys, I’ll come back over if you miss me too much.”

“Yeah, whatever, brat, go make nice.” The blond banters back, patting his girlfriend’s ass as he kisses her before playfully shoving her in the direction of the women gathered around the drinks. Lip sidesteps a little, blocking the crowd of men staring at the woman’s ass as she makes her way over to the other girls. “You, uh, guys make bets already?”

Trevor, some guy from…marketing (Eric swears he’s seen him on that floor) sighs, “No, thank God you brought it up-”

Suddenly, they’re a very lively bunch, placing bets that Lip is apparently calling, pulling off his own hat and placing the money in it. Eric tries to focus on the fun and Lip’s apparent godlike memory that allows him to remember who said what, but his eyes keep drifting. He watches as every couple of minutes, Charlotte and Lip look at each other, checking in without saying a word before returning to their respective groups. Once, Charlotte had come over to bring Lip a beer once she’d noticed all the other guys had one. The only time Rebecca had come over was when she wanted money for a fresh pretzel and even then, Charlotte had been in tow. Apparently, the two women had been getting along well. Becca had demanded enough money to get Charlotte a pretzel too, to which Gallagher immediately reached in his wallet and produced money Eric knew he didn’t have to spare, and gave it to the woman. When they’d come back, Eric’s girlfriend had a pretzel she was already eating and Lip’s had chicken tenders and fries for them to share. 

As the game got more interesting and the men started shouting and getting excited, the women grew antsy, Charlotte included. Seth’s girlfriend was really intrigued by the game, but that may have also been because she’s into baseball players. Becca was posted up in the corner, on the phone with the restaurant she wanted to go to and Charlotte was standing behind Lip’s chair, hands on his shoulders. 

“Come sit, baby.” he says, patting his lap. Charlotte huffs as she makes her way around the front, plopping down in his lap and resting her cheek against his. “Lemme hear it.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and this game is long and you didn’t mention that.”

“You done?”

“No, and it’s cold.” Charlotte sighs. “Now, I’m done.”

“Now you’re done. Cool, I can go back to watchin’ now or what?”

Oof. Eric thinks, waiting for her to start yelling, throwing a fit until Lip offers her something to calm down. That’s what they all want, he thinks. Instead, her brows furrow and she glances at Eric before grabbing the color of Lip’s shirt, tugging his ear to her lips to whisper into it.

Blue eyes go wide for a moment before a ‘uh, fuck yeah, I wanna do that.’ is murmured and she’s hopping off of his lap. “Uh, hey man, we’ll be right back, do we need a code to get back in or…”

“Oh, no, man you’re good. You guys okay? If you need something they’ll bring it in here if we call down-”

“I left something I need in the car.” Charlotte intercepts, pulling at Lip again, leading him out of the suite. Moments later Rebecca sits down in Lip’s seat next to Eric, letting out a sigh.

“So, Phillip’s girlfriend gets to leave and I don’t?”

30 minutes later and the pair comes back, looking relatively the same, despite being slightly disheveled and what appears to be a fresh hickey blooming on Charlotte’s neck. The game is almost over and immediately Lip gets back into wheeling and dealing. He starts settling up on bets while Charlotte collects the numbers of the other girls.

“No seriously, we need to keep in touch.” Rebecca smiles, hugging the girl tightly.

“Yeah, girl, I’d love that, we should hang out soon.” Charlotte hugs back. “Maybe we’ll even let Phillip and Eric come on our date.”

“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to hang out without prying ears too. I’ve been watching you two, you’ve got to tell me what type of shit you’re pulling in the bedroom, you’ve got blondie wrapped around your finger. Eric told me you’ve only known each other a couple of months and at this rate you’ll end up with a ring before me.”

“I…I’m sure that’s not true.” Charlotte says quietly, letting her eyes travel over to her man, unsurprised that he looks over to her as soon as she reaches him, eyes locking. They’ve been in sync like that a lot lately. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since high school,” The girl huffs. “He’s dragging his feet as all men do. I mean, I’ve played my part, even got mommy and daddy’s approval. On both sides. We’re all fucking waiting on him. You’re smart, getting in on the ground up, not picking one that was born with a golden spoon shoved down his throat. But my parents wouldn’t settle for less. Guess yours are trusting the process.”

“Um, exc-” Before Charlotte can finish, Eric gestures Rebecca over and the girl pats her arm one more time before going to her boyfriend. Charlotte makes her way over to Lip, thoughts heavy. They are getting more serious. Despite being together for a short amount of time, she can’t imagine her life without him now. She’d been dodging the concept of introducing him to her parents for a while because she knew how’d they’d act. She’d seen a live demo of it with Kev. They’d treat him like white trash, the last thing Charlotte thought of him as. They’d be condescending, and mean. But it’d happen eventually, because…well she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and she hopes he doesn’t plan to either. 

After everyone gets separated in the crowd of people leaving the game, Eric waits on the sidewalk for the car he’d called for him and Rebecca. She was babbling about something or another he didn’t care about when he saw Charlotte and Lip. The woman is giggling loudly as the man tickles her, the two of them damn near bumping people every few seconds as if no one else was here. 

“I’m never going to a game with you again” the girl breathes, gasping in air as he stops tickling and starts holding her hand. 

Eric watches as Lip rolls his eyes, pulling her into him as he walks her to the passenger side of some old, beat up truck. “Yeah, okay,” he laughs, opening the door for her, “I can hear you now when I try to go without you, ‘bubba, please, take me with you, I’ll be bored without you,’” he mocks.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“No?” he snorts, closing her door and going around to the driver’s side. 

As he watches them interact Eric can’t help but think, he wants what they have. There’s a small pang of jealousy that rings in his chest. But it isn’t until he watches Charlotte lean over to manually unlock the door on the driver’s side so Lip can get in that an even more intrusive thought enters his mind.

I want her.

[tiny-tf-faces]

We'll soon return to our regularly scheduled programming of tiny faces

My deepes apologies to @anirlcryptid99, @bwans-art, @homosexualhomestuck, @pacicidal, @nix-tea, @anyth1ng772 and @mr-playlist for the false adveritising. You were tricked! This blog is normally not about Soundwave in places, but about screenshots tiny transformers faces. However, stick around, because this doesn't have to be the end of Soundwave locations.

I came up with this idea on a whim after a discord server I'm in renamed itself to "League of Legends Central" and I realised I hadn't done anything for April fools. I wanted it to be something fun and not upsetting, but in the end the concept ended up being too good to just throw away.

That's why soundwave-location will soon get its own dedicated sideblog! I'm not sure how soon, but I'll announce it here when it's up, and until then this blog will continue accepting Soundwave location reports!

For now, bird time is back! (yeecaw)

[npdkondraki]

sorry for liking kind of mainstream tv shows we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming of niche internet horror insanity soon enough

[veryflirtytransportalate]

A SPECIAL GUEST DANCES AT THE THIRD RAIL

Magnolia drags on a cigarette. Heavy lips round bright white. A slow clowd of grey smoke washes across her face. Her outfit glimmers, twinkling, cheap, a wasteland treasure. Behind her back is a tall and leggy someone dressed head to toe in a gaudy relic of the old world that reeks of vinyl. What little of it there is covers tight olive flesh, glistening under burning lights above the Third Rail's crumbling stage.

"We have a... treat for you tonight," the put out singer croones. "We'll be back to our regularly scheduled program soon." With that, she snuffs her cigarette on the cracking hardwood. Her high heels beating out an angry withdrawal.

A warbling voice echoes from an ancient radio. The costumed dame shimmies left, a little rubber tail bouncing against exposed skin. She shimmies right. A dilapidated bass line plods. With each sway, the costume croaks, PVC crackling through the ill rehearsed routine. Sizzle turns around, cheeks red and brow slick, blinded by the spotlights. She dips down, her chest almost completely exposed in the shiney demoness leotard.

There are advantages to knowing the mayor, she thinks to herself. She spins to highlight every curve. She bites a black lip. Her heart races. She's never shown off like this before. It strikes her harder than a gamma round.

When the song finally climaxes and concludes, Sizzle is left panting on the stage, chaffing in her much too tight ensemble. She stares out across the bar, waiting, smile quietly slipping, until the four or five patrons collectively applaud as much as seems polite (most likely for fear of offending said mayor) - not at all the glass shattering cries and floor cracking stampede the dancer had expected. She stands akimbo for a moment, unsure if the attendees had even watched, heart still pounding, before slinking off the stage like a whimpering pup as Magnolia retakes her center stage. Sizzle's cheeks burn hot, her costume no longer sexy and stylish.

Instead, she feels fucking ridiculous.

Sizzle towels off in the VIP room, growing more and more angry, Magnolia's voice floating in and reverbarting in a way that turns the room into a tightly locked tin can. Sizzle huffs to herself. It was her own fault. No, impossible. The bar's fault? Magnolia's? She pulls on her day clothes (a mechanized combat suit of pure titanium), and wonders if the crowd knows how lucky they are. She could snap the whole room in half like rotten wood. She could get Handcock to exile them. She won't, but she could, and she wants to.

When Sizzle finally steps back into the bar, Magnolia is nursing a drink in silence. Sizzle walks behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You were great," she starts, "But why the hell do you play for such a fucking dead crowd?"

Magnolia laughs, sharp and short. Sizzle pulls her hand away like it was burnt. "They are dead," Magnolia says with a sinister sweetness. The elegant singer pulls an ice cube from her glass and with an ever so little flick of the wrist, she flings it at a patron, who doesn't blink as it ricochets off their temple and lands in their shirt. A line of drool connects their mouth to their chair. Magnolia waves a hand. "They're higher than a rooftop. Most nights I get off the stage, and do you know how they thank me? They cough and ask, 'Hey, toots, when's the show gonna start?' You're playing for a graveyard, honey, and if you don't have the balls to do this because you love it, you're not gonna get shit out of it."

Sizzle sits down in the squeaky little stool and doesn't say anything. The robot bartender slides her a beer, which lingers in front of her, untouched for a long time. The lounge singer watches as the wasteland warrior puts her head in her hand, shoulders slumping in a way that extinguishes the animosity that stealing one's primary gig tends to generate. Sizzle stares at the bar with far off eyes, as behind them, the lethargic patron hiccups like a huge stoned baby.

"If it's any consolation," Magnolia adds in a low growl, "I could've watched you all night. Maybe longer. I say keep the get up, you'll get plenty of use in and out of it."

Sizzle grins a tight grin. "Thanks, Mags, I appreciate the gas up." She sighs, pushing off the bar as her mechanized ass grinds against her seat with a sharp zing. "I guess I'll go with what Cait said to do with it."

Magnolia lowers her gaze. "The pit fighter from the zone? She's still alive?"

"Yeah, she's alive," Sizzle says, picking up her beer. "And she's right: if I wear something like that in Sanctuary, Preston Garvey will turn bright pink, have an aneurysm, and then die. And that sounds hilarious."

I liked writing this little story! Sizzle as a character is sort of all about a person stuck out of time, but using the opportunity to be the person they've always wanted to be. So, the idea that she'd dance on stage at a bar and feel really excited about it felt appropriate. Like, she was almost a stay at home mom with a law degree; she's kind of living her best life out in the wasteland.

Another key aspect of Sizzle is that she's sort of a complete loser. I kind of love that the mechanics of being a main character in a Fallout game means she's also a wasteland badass, because it juxtaposes this girl who is constantly failing to be as charismatic or cool as she thinks she's being. Sure, she can fly thirty feet through the air and obliterate a raider's skull as her small team of misfits fill the air with lasers, but she can't possibly make a crowd laugh.

The outfit is... some TERA import? It's on Nexus, something succubus. As always, ask a question if you want the link, otherwise I'm gonna be lazy and just not go get it. My earlier posts were super good about credit giving, but uh..... That Hard!!

[thatonemarvelchick]

Apricity - Twenty-Five

Ok, for plot purposes I did this chapter in Apricity's POV again, but the next one will be Peter and we'll resume our regularly scheduled programming.

Apricity kept her pace brisk, her eyes alert. “Bucky, what’s my status?” She asked quietly into the com that they had hidden deep in her ear. It was micro, so not even HYDRA would be able to sense it if they patted her down. She was told it was the same thing Peter had used when they’d come to get her. 

She cringed at the thought of the boy. She couldn’t think about Peter right now, about the way MJ had enveloped him in a hug that he’d immediately returned. About the way the two had looked at each other as if they were lovers long lost. 

But they were, weren’t they? 

“You’re clear right now, as far as we know there’ve been no detections.” Bucky’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her focus once again on her mission. Infiltrate HYDRA, and take them down. “The man you’re looking for is named Jared Pritchet. There’s a photo of him coming your way. You’re going to go up to him, and you’re going to say Hail HYDRA. He’ll take you to the base. Or, he’ll call someone who will.”

Apricity nodded even though Bucky couldn’t see her. Or, maybe he could. She had no idea the kind of tech Sam had gotten them access to. 

“Ok. Thanks.” She sighed, looking around her. She’d pulled out her phone to look at the photo Bucky sent her, examining the face of the man. When she looked back up, his was the only face she was looking for. 

It didn’t take her long to find it in the mostly empty plaza. He was sitting at a table, typing something rapidly on a computer. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone or anything around him, completely zoned in on his laptop. This was good for Apricity, as it enabled her to walk directly up and sit down across from him before he noticed. 

He frowned, watching her closely for a moment. “Can I help you? I don’t have any change, I’m sorry.” 

Apricity chuckled softly, leaning in and pushing his computer closed, much to his dismay. “Hail HYDRA.” 

The man seemed to freeze at that, looking at her with widened eyes. A flicker of recognition ran throughout them, and he was suddenly swallowing thickly. 

“Come with me.” His American accent was gone, replaced with a thick German one. He stood, packing up his things and walking away without waiting for her to follow. 

“Good kid. Now just be careful.” She heard Bucky’s voice over the coms again, and a jolt went through her when he called her kid. She knew he would call anyone younger than him a kid, but it was different when she was actually his kid. 

“Apricity?” She heard Peter’s voice over the com next, something that also sent a jolt through her. She’d thought he was still with that girl, MJ. She hadn’t expected him to be there with Bucky and Sam, to still care about the mission. Or her. “I know you can’t respond, I just- Please tell us if you need any of us. I’ll be there. Don’t die, ok?” Apricity swallowed, bowing her head. She hoped that they could see her and that they would take this as a sign of understanding. She had no intention of dying today. 

Apricity followed Pritchet to a cab, getting in after only a moment of hesitation. He leaned forward, shutting the divider between them and the taximan, before turning to her. 

“You’re her? The Soldier’s daughter?” He asked, looking at her cautiously. 

Apricity jut her chin out, putting on an act already. “He took part in my creation, and then he abandoned the cause. He is no father of mine.” Her voice surprised even her. But Pritchet seemed to buy it, because soon enough he was smiling. 

“Good. We’ve been quite worried about you, Winter Sun.” A chill went up Apricity’s spine at the name, but she showed no outward reaction to it. 

Soon enough, they were walking into an unassuming government-looking building, plain on the outside. Apricity looked around, taking in every detail she could. Pritchet was let in without a code or scanning of any kind, but the guard at the door put a hand on her chest to stop her from coming after him. 

Apricity acted on instinct, grabbing his wrist and twisting until his arm was pinned behind his back and he was shoved into the wall. It was a move her father had taught her earlier that day, and she could hear his laughter coming through the coms. 

“Woah woah woah-” Pritchet held up his hands to the other guards who were rushing towards her with electrified batons at the ready. Her eyes flickered wildly between them all, her breathing heavy. For someone who was only acting power-hungry and wild, she was putting on a good show. “Let’s be civil. She’s with me.” Pritchet put a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing her to let the guard go slowly. “Let’s go inside and get you settled, yeah?”

Apricity’s jaw clenched. “I want to talk to him. The scientist who tested on me. I want to know what he put in me. I want more.” Her demands came quickly and brutally. Pritchet watched her for a moment, and for a terrifying second, she thought she’d oversold it, that they would catch on and realize that she was lying. 

“Right this way, soldier.” Pritchet grinned and her heart lifted. She let out the smallest sigh of relief, perceptible to only herself. She was led into the building and then into an elevator, Pritchet pushing an unmarked button. “This will take us to the labs. The man you’re looking for is Dr. Convoy.”

She nodded, swallowing thickly. She hoped Bucky had caught that and was doing a run on the name now.

“What did he put inside of me?” She asked, clenching and unclenching her fists over and over again. 

Pritchet glanced over at her and shook his head as the elevator doors opened and let them out into a purely white hallway, not a window in sight. “I don’t know, I’m not even sure he knows.”

She frowned at this, following him down the hallway. He opened a door that revealed rows upon rows of lab tables. Some of them had people strapped to them. Apricity resisted the urge to be sick, watching tubes of black and blue sludge being pumped into these people's arms. They were still experimenting on people. 

“Dr. Convoy.” Pritchet led them to a man that was all too familiar to Apricity. She tensed upon seeing his round, balding head. He still had that stupid clipboard in his hand. Much to her approval, he had a black eye and what looked to be a broken nose now. She would have to thank Peter for that later. 

Convoy turned, eyes going wide when they landed on Apricity. “You’ve got her.” He breathed, rushing over to them. “Why is she not in cuffs?”

“Actually,” Pritchet grinned at her as if they shared an inside joke. She didn’t return the look. “She came to me.” 

Convoy shook his head slowly. “My goodness.” He breathed, reaching up to touch her face. She jerked her head away. “A miracle.”

“I came to get more. I want more of whatever it was you injected into me.” She said, looking at him with burning blue eyes. She couldn’t see herself, but she knew that to these people, she looked utterly insane. 

Convoy laughed, putting a hand over his stomach and leaning back as if she’d just told the most hilarious joke she could’ve made. “Of course you did, my dear! You see, when you have that first taste of power, it’s all you want.”

Apricity stepped forward, grabbing him by his tie and yanking him towards her. “What was it?” she demanded lowly. His eyes went wide but the smile never left his face. She was starting to think he was more insane than she was pretending to be. 

“Come with me, my dear. I’ll show you.” He said, having no qualms with the fact that she was holding him in a manner that made it clear that she could snap him like a twig if she chose to do so. 

She was led further into the labs, past tables with people doubled over and throwing up into buckets. The buckets were all full of black sludge and something that looked eerily close to blood. She had to keep her eyes trained on the back of Convoy’s shiny head to avoid her stomach churning and making her join those people. 

“You see, we’ve been trying desperately to replicate what we had with you. However, we’ve never been able to reproduce the serum, so no meer human’s body has been able to handle it. But now that we have you, we can see just what in your blood has made you immune. We can create an entire army of super soldiers that the world has never seen. An entire army of you.” He sounded elated. Apricity felt sick. 

He opened the door to a room with a large clear tube taking up the entire center of it. Inside the tube was that same black sludge she’d seen before, but it was suspended in air, floating around and moving as if it wasn’t affected by gravity. As if it had a mind of its own. 

“What is that?” Apricity breathed, shaking her head. She stared up at the tube in awe, her jaw falling slack. 

“We don’t know!” Convoy sounded delighted. “It’s Asgardian. After their home was destroyed, we imagine it made its way here, looking for shelter. It seems to have a mind of its own, but its only thought is survival.” He grinned over at her. 

She swallowed, watching the way it twisted and moved. She walked over to the glass, drawn to it. The substance seemed to radiate energy and power. Apricity walked directly up to the tube, putting her hand on the glass. 

The sludge stopped flicking as if it sensed her presence. It flung itself into the glass she was touching, over and over, until it began to crack. Apricity jumped back, eyes wide. It wanted out, and it wanted her. 

She could hear shouts coming from out in the labs behind them. Convoy turned. There was a low rumbling sound, the sounds of things being knocked over and tossed aside, people screaming in pain and fear. Apricity stumbled towards the back wall, watching the doors burst open. 

It all happened at once. The goop in the tube burst through the glass. Whatever of the substance had been in the labs burst through the doors, knocking them completely off their hinges. The energy was enough to shove Convoy and everyone else back into the walls. All of it, compiled now, was heading straight for her. 

She felt as the substance entered her, filling her body, conforming to her. She felt like everything was expanding, she felt like she was radiating. A low thrumming sound was coming throughout the room, deafening. The last thing she heard was Convoy shouting, before she herself seemed to explode with the energy, letting it radiate out of her, and incinerate everything it touched.

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