#which is why it takes them so fuckin long to get together

[leviiackrman]

"we've worn masks for so long, we've forgotten who we are beneath them..."

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[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 8: Nobody’s Son, Nobody’s Daughter

You hate how weak you are, sometimes.

That a text can ruin your whole day.

>> Hey. I hope you’re doing well. I miss hearing from you.

You’re fuming. Absolutely fuming. In under fifteen seconds you’re on your feet, face hot and heart pounding as you stomp across the old wooden floor.

“I’ll be right back.” You grunt to Johnny and Kyle, ignoring their wide, confused eyes and fast walking past them and out the back door.

The sun is up for longer now, only just beginning to set. It’s hot and hard to breathe, which only makes you more pissed off. Your skin prickles and blood rushes in your ears. You hate the way your hands shake. Your boot connects with the dumpster hard. It hurts, but you’re too pissed to really care. You just need it out of your system - the metal sending a ringing, gong-like sound bouncing around the back alley as you repeatedly slam your foot into it.

How dare he?

Miss hearing from you? YOU?

He ignores you for your whole childhood and teenage years - didn’t even try - and he misses hearing from you!? Couldn’t ever remember your age or grade when you did see him and he hopes your doing well!? Blew you off for his other kids for years and he fucking misses you!

How the hell did he even get your new number? Your mom, probably. The traitor. Fuck.

“Think that bin’s ‘ad enough, bird.” Simons voice startles you. He glances down at the dent you somehow managed to make. Your foot throbs when you put it back on the ground, shifting your weight onto the other one. One of your toes is bleeding, you think. You hand feel it soaking into your sock.

You look away, face hot from embarrassment now. “Didn’t know anyone was out here…”

Simon takes you in for a moment. Usually you don’t mind it - his intense silences - but right now it feels like being dissected. Like he’s pulling your skin back to reveal that squirming, tar-like creature aways simmering just a layer beneath. The pathetic little worm you try so hard to cover with a functional facade.

“Smoke?” He tilts the pack toward you. You wrinkle your nose - it’s a shit brand - but at the moment you wouldn’t care if it was made of actual shit as long as it had nicotine.

You pick one out and plop down on the weird curb that lines the opposite side of the alley. Simon sits beside you, raising his lighter toward you cupping his hand around the little flame to light your cigarette. It’s intimate, in a way, and if you had the emotional elasticity for it you might have blushed.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after a few drags.

You shrug. “Dads suck.”

Simon hums. “That they do.”

“It’s just like-“ You make an exasperated sound and run your fingers through your hair. “Like if you’re not around for fuckin’ twenty years, you don’t get to act upset when I don’t want to talk ever. Just because now I’m the one that set the boundary. It’s stupid. It’s mean.”

Simon nods along as you ramble, your voice trailing off eventually. You both sit there quietly, for a moment. This is the type of silence that you don’t mind. Enjoy, even. Just existing together. At first you thought he hated you, or just didn’t like much of anybody, but you’ve come to theorize that he’s the same as you. That he gets stuck in his head, too. It’s nice, having someone to sit with without the need to entertain them. To preform.

Your lip quivers even as you attempt to stop it by sinking your teeth in. A killing blow. It doesn’t work. You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“Because you’re hurt.” Simon bluntly replies. It’s soft, though. As soft as a voice like his can be.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” You sob, messily wiping at your eyes. Your eyeshadow is probably smudged to hell now but you can’t bring yourself to care. Hopefully the others don’t ask about it.

An arm wraps around you, tucking you close. The surprise of it almost knocks you out of your crying fit entirely. Simon isn’t touchy. With anyone. He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his eyes forward while he takes a long drag, but that arm remains around your shaking shoulders with you pressed to his side.

It’s quiet, as it usually is when you close up with just Simon. The others took off for the night. Johnny said something about a date before dragging Kyle off arm in arm. They must have set up some kind of double date for the evening. John’s last appointment had to reschedule so he knocked off early as well. It’s nice, really, to be alone in the shop with Simon. He lowers the music, helps you with sweeping and the trash. Tells you the newest joke from wherever the hell he gets them. Popsicles, you think, based on his sweet tooth and the quality of pun.

“C’mon. We’re takin’ a field trip.” Simon tilts his head toward the street past the turn to your apartment. He still insists on walking you home, even if the sky is still relatively bright.

You look up, frowning. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

You follow him down the quiet street. It’s warm and muggy as you go. You keep glancing up at Simon, waiting for some sort of tell. Some hint at where he’s leading you. In the back of your mind, you become innately aware that Simon is probably the only man you’d follow this blindly.

You nearly knock into him when Simon comes to a sudden stop. “Here.”

You look up, squinting at the tacky sign in what you can only describe as “intense manly man” font. Bold, blocky letters in bright orange with faux cracks scattered through the letters.

TANTRUM TANK

A mixture of stunned and curious leaves you quietly following Simon in. You press the spot between your brows to dissipate the confused frown. The lobby is pretty basic with a few decorations that mimic the style of the sign. Cracked facades and black walls. The room is lined with plastic chairs and a couple safety posters reminding patrons not to hit each other with the bats. A large television screen flashes between images of people in hazmat suits smashing various garbage and debris, pausing on a menu of times and prices.

“Simon!” A man appears behind the counter, face bright. “Here for your usual hour?”

Simon steps up to the counter, nodding in your direction. “Actually, I’ve got a plus one.”

The man’s brows raise and he looks you over, giving you ashort, polite greeting. You nod and smile back, pretending like you know why you’re here at all. You just watch as Simon briefly chats with the clerk who obviously knows him well. He’s a regular here, then. He doesn’t give anything away, just makes some brief, perfunctory small talk before taking a key and waving you after him. Why’d he bring you here, of all people?

Your heart skips at the thought of Simon wanting to do something with you, though. He brought you here because he wants to hang out - in his own way. He must do this with the other boys, too. Maybe one of them bailed on him or something. Part of you wonders if he didn’t want to come alone, but that doesn’t sound like him. Plus, you can’t say that its’ at all out of character for him to decide something and just do it with no other communication. You also can’t say you mind much. Not with him.

“You come here with the others a lot?” You ask as you follow him back to the room.

“No.”

You frown. Oh.

The two of you lapse into silence as you put your things away into designated lockers. There’s a sort of interim room before the actual rage room with storage and a few stacks of protective gear in various sizes. Simon’s quick about it. Practiced. He slips on the protective plastic suit quickly while you grunt and struggle with unfolding it. Your hair crinkles with static as you finally get the mass of plastic unfurled and step into it. Of course the one that fits you around is too damn long. At least the gloves fit.

“Simon?” You murmur, finally finding your voice - as weak as it comes out. “Why’d you bring me here?”

He looks you over for a moment with that same steady gaze as before. You’ve never felt seen like you do with Simon. Even with the others… they don’t see to the core of you like he does. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Some pathetic little part of you left over from your misunderstood teenage years.

“I ’ad a pretty shite father.” Simon says as he zips up his suit. “Taught me a lot of anger. I didn’t- I don’t want to be like ‘im. Don’t want people t’be scared…”

You stare, wide eyed, frozen in place. As if any movement would disrupt this new found honesty - would frighten the man away from confiding in you. It’s sudden and far more than you’ve gotten out of him in the months you’ve known each other. It’s too special to risk.

“Sometimes you’ve got t’get it out of your system. Better than breaking your foot on a skip.” He snorts, stepping forward and carefully pushing a pair of safety glasses over your eyes. One hand runs over your hair just for the briefest moment; another lightly pats your cheek before he turns on his heel, grabbing one of the bats hanging on the wall and making for the door.

You stare after him, shell shocked by both the admission and uncharacteristic physical touch. You involuntarily reach up to trace your fingertips over the cheek he touched.

Don’t want people to be scared…

A part of you breaks in the back of your mind. The obvious, unsaid ‘of me’ sits heavily on your tongue. Some distant image of what he might have looked like as a child. Small and blonde with those big dark eyes… You gulp down a tight breath and follow after him, just a little too close to crying at the implication.

Simon gestures toward a crooked, half broken office desk. “Ladies first.”

And oh, if that first swing wasn’t the best release you’ve had in a long, long time.

A/N: Sorry for being inactive the past couple weeks, I could literally write a novel with how much as happened irl🙃

Anyhoo next part y’all are getting lots of Price because that homecoming skin has got me fucked up

[cranberrv]

thunder

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston loses his temper

( a/n : HIII im sorry if this wasnt ur vision but i dont think dallas is one for big apologies so i kinda focused on the arguement more than the apology hope that’s ok… also toxic dallas alert sorry if that isnt ur scene!! also not proofread but hope u cuties enjoy )

it was a late night in mid-summer, and you and dallas were on the porch on the curtis brothers house. he wanted to go out for a smoke, and dragged you along. you were wearing his leather jacket, it was a windy night and you were getting chilly. dallas had goosebumps along his arms.

“are you sure you don’t want it back, dal?” you ask him, insisting on giving him his jacket back.

“nah, sugar, don’t want ya freezin’ to death out here,” he answers, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the empty street.

“i’ll just go inside, though, so you don’t get hypothermia or something..” you insist, but he grabs your hand and stops you.

“you’re fine, baby, stay with me.” you look up at him and nod, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

you stand outside for a little while longer. it feels so peaceful standing there with him. his hand that’s rough and dangerous from the punches it throws is enveloping yours in a sweet gentleness shown only with you. his cigarette smoke becoming a mock mist that calms you both down. his deep breathes that are only heard because of how quiet it is.

nothing could ruin this moment.

you felt it was a good time to say the three words. not like you hadn’t said them before — it’s been a year since you’ve started dating, and you’ve both adored each other from the very start. but dallas got funny when you told him what he already knew. tonight would be different, you thought.

“.. i love ya, dal,” you say softly after a few moments of quiet. it felt casual — exactly what he would have wanted. but maybe not casual enough, because there was a short silence following your words.

eventually, he speaks. “i know ya do, sugar.”

you sigh. why is it that he could never stand to say it back?

he catches your sigh. of course he knows what you’re sighing about — he knows you all too well. he chooses not to act on it, not to apologize, not to say anything. he doesn’t want to fight with you. he just takes a drag of his cigarette and plays innocent.

“it would be nice to know that you loved me too, dallas,” you eventually say.

“oh c’mon,” another drag of his cigarette. “you ain’t an idiot, you know i do.”

“do i? i can’t remember one time you’ve said ‘i love you’ to me,” you cross your arms and look up at him.

“this isn’t somethin’ to get pressed on, y/n, the boys are inside and the windows are open,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop talking, to pretend like you’re okay. all because he doesn’t want his friends to hear. “and i have said it, baby, you’re just forgetting or somethin’.”

“you have not, i would remember if you have,” you counter, shoving his hand off of you. “i don’t want to argue, dallas, i really don’t—“

“too damn bad, y/n, because you’re sayin’ that i don’t love you, and we both know that ain’t true,”

“then say it.”

“..what?”

“you heard me,” you say. “it has been a whole year of us dating, and you’re never ready to say that you love me,” you raise your voice to get your point across.

“christ, y/n, you’re difficult, huh?” he groans. “it ain’t a big deal, don’t go throwing a tantrum.”

“i’m difficult? dallas, i don’t know if you get how a relationship works, but at this point, you either love me, or you’re done with me. there is no middle ground after this long together.”

“you’re fuckin’ crazy, i know how a relationship works, and i ain’t done with you. don’t go stickin’ words in my mouth,” his voice is raising, too.

“if you’re not done with me, then you love me.” you say, in a desperate attempt to get him to say the three words. you almost want to beg. “it hurts, dallas, that i don’t get that reassurance, that i leave our dates with my words hanging in the air, waiting for a reply,”

he groans. “you know that i do, so what’s the fuckin’ point?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he scoffs, his voice raising. not quite yelling, but definitely not talking. “holy fuck, you know that i love you, man, so quit bein’ such a bitch!”

the crease in your eyebrow drops as he says that. “don’t call me that,”

“c’mon, man, you’re acting like a fuckin’ lunatic trying to get me to admit somethin’ that i’ve already admitted,” he says, voice still raised. “take a deep breath, maybe get a glass of water, and come back to me once you’re normal again.”

you scoff. “because i’m expressing my feelings, suddenly i’m a lunatic? because i’m not like your old girls, and i actually strive for a healthy relationship, i’m not normal?”

“you’re freakin’ out because i didn’t say it back once, of course i think you’re going crazy.”

“i’m ‘freaking out’ because it’s been a year of ‘thank you’ and ‘i know’ whenever i tell you i love you,”

“you’re being a dumbass, y/n, you know i—“ he cuts himself off, sighing and taking a step back. “fine, man, whatever, you win. go inside and call bucks when you’ve cooled off, i’m goin’ home,”

when he walks past you, the air is thick and unwelcoming. you don’t even bother getting the last word, dreading the fact that he might turn back and lose his shit if you do. he mutters something incoherent under his breath, and walks down the creeky front porch steps, into the dead of night.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

of course, you don’t call bucks. why would you? just so buck can tell you that dallas isn’t there, when in reality he just doesn’t want to talk to you? just so suddenly you’re bending to his will, and he’s getting his way once again? you don’t think so.

dallas does this a lot — whenver you two fight, even if it’s a small one, he needs time to cool off. sometimes it’s a couple hours, sometimes it’s a day. it’s never stretched longer, until now. it’s been three torturous days of waiting for a grand gesture, an apology, anything.

the next day at school, you’re walking through the parking lot during your lunch break, talking to cherry valance and marcia about what happened between you and dallas. they say a lot of “told you so” and “that’s dallas for you”, and you can’t say they’re wrong. they warned you about him, and his reputation for being so short-tempered and stubborn.

the sound of an engine roars behind you, and you and your friends turn your heads to see who is making the noise. it’s a 1957 red thunderbird, you recognize it as buck merrill’s.

“that must be dal’s friend, buck,” you whisper to your friends. “but why would buck be here?”

“he’s a greaser, he’s probably like, 5 grades behind and coming here begging for another shot at graduation,” randy, marcia’s boyfriend, teases. you shoot him a glare, and he shuts up.

“i’ll go see whats up,” you say softly, walking over to the now-parked car.

as you walk over and the window rolls down. it is not buck merrill, like you expected, but it’s dallas winston.

“hi,” you say softly, your walls starting to go up but hesitating, wondering if you’re even still fighting.

“hey, sweetie,” he says, not explaining what he’s doing here.

“what’re doing?” you ask him.

he shrugs. “wanted to see you, i dunno.”

“oh,” you say softly. you hoped for an apology, you hoped for flowers, you hoped for chocolate, you hoped for a hug, you hoped for—

“i shouldn’t of gotten all heated when we talked, it wasn’t cool,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “and you ain’t a bitch.”

“..thanks.” you say after a few seconds of silence. what a shit apology, you think.

he’s staring out into the parking lot instead of you. “and i’m crazy about you, man,” he looks up at you. “you gotta know that, sugar.”

“thank you,” you repeat again, unsure of what to say.

another beat of silence as he swallows in his throat, before speaking and finally looking over at you. “i love ya, doll,”

you should’ve stayed mad, you should’ve not accepted his awful apology, but you cannot hide the smile tugging at your lips. this is all you’ve asked for from him, and he finally has the courage to admit it.

“i love you too, dallas.” you say softly, leaning into the window and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “thank you,”

“you gotta stop sayin’ that, y/n,” he teases, playfully pushing you away. “go hang out with your stupid friends, man. i’ll come over tonight and hang.”

you nod, and walk away, looking back at him and seeing a small smile on his face. nothing could ruin this moment.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine Mob Bucky with his sweet little Bambi. She’s such a shy sweet thing and even though he’s had her countless times, naked and crying on his cock. She still hesitates to touch his most private places and can’t help the way her face heats up with just one look of those blue eyes.

“But-but they’ll hear” she whispers with wide eyes, her hands shaking as he guides her to wrap around his thick cock. Bucky’s thighs were spread wide apart, his slacks pulled down while he guided her under his desk.

“What will they hear pretty baby” he raised a brow while she shifted on the ground, still on her knees. “Are you shy baby? Shy they’ll hear how good you suck me? How slutty and soppy this pretty little mouth gets? Or are you scared they’ll hear what a whore you sound like when you’re stretched open around my cock, which is it”

You whimpered, knowing Bucky’s right hand man was stationed right out side of his office, his best friend of all people guarding the doors of his boss.

“Are you worried Stevie will hear you baby?” Bucky cooed, gentle holding the back of your head, pulling you to his dripping head. “He won’t hear a thing as long as you’re quiet Bambi”

He hissed feeling your soft tongue hesitantly swipe across his silky pink tip, lapping and suckling like a needy kitten as soon as you got a taste.

“Such a good girl for me” he groaned, cupping your cheeks before pushing his hips forward, shoving his length down your throat, “taking all of daddy’s big dick down her throat huh”

He smirks at the way you claw at his thighs while your legs squeeze together, his poor needy princess trying to give herself some relief.

“Bambi, what is it honey, why are you squirming so much”

You shake your head with your mouth full, too innocent to ask for what you want. Which is exactly why he sighs and picks you up off the floor and lays you on his desk, shoving your panties aside before you can protest.

“Daddy, no-daddy!” You slap your hand over your mouth as he stuffs his cock into your pussy, setting in a brutal pace without warming you up first. He grabs your hand away from your mouth, pinning your hand against the solid wood desk with a feral look on his face.

He knows his men are outside, he knows how some of them look at you. Hell, he even knows how Steve looks at you. Bucky wasn’t about to share but he’d give them a glimpse of how lucky he was, moving his hand to wrap around your throat while fucking your brains out.

“Fuckin’ scream! Scream, let them know how much you love my cock!”

“I-I-love I-it!!” You wailed, no longer able to contain your voice, taking every thrust he gave you. “I love it daddy, I love it!!”

“Yeah I bet you do, bet you love knowing my guys can hear you. Bet you love knowing they all stroke their dicks thinking’ bout you huh? Even Stevie’s probably got his hand down his pants thinking about your tight pussy and the sounds you’d make”

Your eyes nearly crossed, voice hoarse from the way you moaned, you’d back arching off the table.

“You act all innocent but you love when guys get all horny for you, don’t you baby. You loving knowing they cum cause they thought of you. Perverted fucks watching my girl, fucking probably jerking themselves right now. Now they’ll know what you sound like. Too bad it’s only my cock that makes you sound like this Bambi”

“Oh god daddy I-I” you slurred, squirting and gushing around his cock without warning, the shut alone making Bucky’s hips stutter.

“Lookit you squirting for me baby, god your a nasty little slut, so fuckin good for me, m gonna cum so fuckin hard for you princess. Gonna fill you up till the room smells of me marking you, you’re gonna walk out of here with my cum dripping between your legs”

Bucky moaned with his head thrown back, possessive over letting everyone know how he owned you.

“Let them all see all the places you let me shove my cock into. That you let daddy empty his cock rigt in your pussy-fuckkk!!”

With a guttural moan he stilled with his cock shoved in as far as it would go, cumming til the desk was a mess.

We don’t talk about how Steve came in his pants immediately after. We don’t talk about how he’s gonna touch himself again tonight. We don’t talk about how next time bucky might let him watch in person while Steve’s handcuffed with his perverted little dick out on full display, leaking and aching while you get railed by his best friend.

[meowmeowriley]

Ghoap Actor AU but 'Ghost' is the stage name used by a a mysterious man who takes "faceless" rolls. Rolls that require pounds of makeup, tons of prosthetics, huge armor suits and feats of puppeteering. No one knows what he looks like, or his real name, and he likes it that way.

Sorry, it got kinda long lol, ficlet after the cut.

Johnny is a new face but damn is he winning hearts quickly. He loves fantasy and sci-fy rolls, and for him getting cast as the heart throb muscle-bound hero is as easy as smiling. A smile which sweeps any and all off their feet, straightness be damned.

Working next to The Ghost is as much a dream come true as it is fucking terrifying. His list of rolls is as long as Johnny is tall, the man is a legend.

Said legend stalks into the catering tent in full makeup, extras scattering because the man is honestly pretty intimidating. Ridges and bumps, red skin and horns, all work to completely dehumanize his features and frighten away any potential lunch buddies. After grabbing his food he stalks back out wordlessly.

They hadn't shot any scenes together yet, but the schedule called for the two of them to be working together nearly every hour of the next week, and John was determined to make a good impression. He grabbed his own food and swiped some fancy wrapped chocolates, perhaps to share and make friends, and scampered out after Ghost.

The man was seated alone, at a table under a tree. He'd popped his fake fangs out and sat them on his tray, and was digging into his sandwich. Red hands tipped in wicked red claws expertly avoided spearing and shredding his food.

Johnny plopped down across from him.

"Cannae be comfortable, wearin' all 'o that all day." Best to get the whole 'being Scottish' thing out if the way immediately, he often had to hid his accent for rolls and this was no exception. Opening his mouth and speaking naturally always garnered a huge reaction, generally glee, from his co-stars. Though, if Ghost was surprised by it, he made no comment.

"Been doin' it for years, 'm used to it." John found himself the one surprised, he hadn't expected the man's voice to be so lovely. Nor had he expected the man to be a fuckin' brit. Clearly he'd also been masking his accent. Shame, Hollywood always loved an evil Brit.

Delighted by this new discovery, Johnny launched into introducing himself, gushing about the rolls he'd seen Ghost in and how he'd loved his performances. Ghost didn't respond much, but slitted pupils with gold and red irises never left him, and even through the makeup a small smile played at the corner of his bright red lips.

Ghost didn't participate much, throwing out a hum or a nod, an occasional quip, but Johnny quickly realized the man was simply quiet, as every time he stopped he'd receive a few words, a gentle nudge to keep going. All was well until Johnny finished his meal and started in on his chocolates.

He'd held one out to Ghost, who took it, and wordlessly sat it on his tray, mirth dancing in his eyes, amplified to a mildly animalistic predatory level by his contacts.

Johnny had rolled with it, assuming the man was just happy about the sweet, and popped his own in his mouth. Only to spit it back out immediately after crunching down.

"Ach, that is VILE, the fuck is wrong with this chocolate?" Johnny stuffed his fingers into his mouth, attempting to scrape the bits that had secured themselves in and between his teeth.

A deep rumbling belly laugh enveloped him, the sound coated his body, every last inch of him, and locked it into place. Fingers still stuffed into his mouth and crouched over like a golem, Johnny watched wide eyed as Ghost leaned back, shoulders heaving and a clawed hand over his brow as he laughed uncontrollably at John's plight. "It's not chocolate," the man gasped out, "it's bloody hand soap!"

Johnny groaned and spat out his fingers as well as a few bubbles. He'd grabbed them from beside the hand washing station, but hadn't thought anything of it. Why the fuck were they wrapped all fancy like?!

Ghost stood, and clapped a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "I look forward to working with you, Johnny." He sighed between fits of laughter. He grinned and popped his fangs back in. "Keep up, Soap."

Johnny turned and watched Ghost stalk back into the catering tent to return his tray, silicone tail swishing side to side, really lending itself to Ghost's jolly demeanor as he left, still chuckling. Johnny felt his face flush, knew he must be as red as Ghost's makeup, in embarrassment, knowing he was gonna be stuck with a ridiculous nickname, but also from realizing he was still bent over and staring at Ghost's ass. Was his ass really that nice, or were those heels, designed to look like hooves, just working absolute wonders?

Thus began Soap's insane crush on a man he knew nothing about, not even how he looked.

[seattlesellie]

i need nerdy loser ellie who wears those big bulky glasses so bad it’s not even funny

yeah cos …. yeah .

i have this vision — of slightly sub!top, service top of you will, loser!ellie eating you out whilst her big nerdy glasses stay glued to the bridge of her nose (until they aren’t)

her face is hot and flushed and heated, long, thick eyelashes fluttering up and down like extra-slow butterfly wings as her talented pink muscle flicks your swollen clit up and down. she takes her time with it, and she really is talented, but more than talented she really is oblivious to the way she’s making you feel, eyebrows scrunched in worry and in question — you can almost hear her shaky voice ask if she’s doing a good job.

which is why when you send your head back and it bangs on the bathroom stall with a loud and resounding thud, and a guttural moan escapes from your lips, ellie moans with you. you just answered her question, she is doing a good job. the best job.

and her low moan sends shivers down your spine, hell — shivers down your clit and your pulsing empty hole.

“s- s- s’good ellie-uh!” — you wail, grinding your cunt extra hard on ellie’s inviting tongue. she shakes her head left and right, and it’s that damn praise that makes her cross her legs together and chase that sweet, alas imperfect friction her jeans provide against her covered sopping pink cunt. ellie then grunts in agreement, buries her nose beneath the hood of your puffy clit. she moves rapidly, eagerly, bobbing her head up and down to earn herself another whine from your lips that might make her wet herself on the spot.

and to think her friends mocked and teased her for having a pathetic crush on the hot girl from class. mocked her for doodling your face in her journal, mocked her for staring at you too hard when you entered the class late with an iced coffee cup in your hand, and now — who’s fuckin’ pussy is she eating in a humid college bathroom stall?

she nearly reaches down her pants and searches her pockets in order to find her cracked phone and send them a pic. she doesn’t, however, because you just moaned out her name so beautifully her hands changed direction and crawled down to cup her cunt. she’s harsh, she grunts and huffs, eyes rolling back inside her skull when she realizes she can feel her slick through the thick fabric of her washed denim jeans.

her eyeballs nearly touch the clear lenses of her glasses but she doesn’t mind. not when your skirt is bunched up on your thighs and your fingers spread your pussy lips open like that.

and it really is all for her, so bravery washes upon ellie, and she slides an eager finger up your hole. it nearly burns, she pumps it slowly, you clench on her nevertheless and she smiles against your cunt. you can feel her harsh breaths, her sniffles, you don’t know if she’s like this because being on her knees is hard or because she’s trying to burn your intoxicating scent up her nostrils.

then she clarifies,

“wanna eat you o-out f-forever”

you bite down on your bottom lip and suck, you want to tell her that she will, but all that comes out is a pathetic hum of agreement.

she stops, blinks in awe and adjusts her glasses to sit correctly on the bridge of her nose. you shriek because she’s edging you and you’re not sure she even knows it. “n-never seen a pussy so, pretty, i’ve never—“ she stammers, “uh” and “um” ‘s as if she’s going on a rampage about a constellation of some sort.

it really takes all that is in you to not shove her face down your cunt again. she’s lucky her voice is so raspy and that it’s truly adorable how her glasses fog up in result of her harsh breathing.

you spread your lips wider but she doesn’t get the hint. she keeps going, keeps talking, so awfully close to your clit it’s burning hot now.

“it’s so swollen, so fuckin’ wet… s’tight”

you nod and sheepishly smile, ellie giggles like a damn schoolgirl beneath you. her knees are probably chafing and her fingers are probably pruning up for spending so much time up her hole but you really don’t care. neither does she.

so you circle your clit slowly and your head lulls back, ellie humps her bare hand.

“i could fuckin’ cum j-jus’ from watchi…”

you lift your finger, placing it inside your mouth and suck. your cheeks hollow in, giving ellie an exaggerated show. you hum at your taste, then you moan when the taste of her saliva runs down your throat. you take it out of your mouth with a plop.

then you bend down, ellie gulps hard.

“ellie?”

she hums, in trance.

“d’ya know what a strap on is?”

then her glasses slip down from her nose and hit the pavement with a click.

no fucking way.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Hi, can I request a story where a female reader wants to fuck Cooper and keeps making advances at him but Cooper always shuts her down. But when reader meets Hancock, she's so desperate to get her rocks off that she asks him to bang her, which he immediately agrees to because, well, it's Hancock. Reader and Hancock aren't exactly quiet when they're having sex which causes Cooper to be unable to sleep. They noises they make get to him and he jerks himself off. Internally, he's wishing he didn't blow off reader so many times because he could've been in Hancock's position by now.

Anon. I can't thank you enough for such a lovely prompt ❤️. I hope I've done it justice!

Opportunities

Part 2 -> HERE

Cooper can admit that you're a stubborn little smoothskin. This is the fourth time in three days that you'd slid up to him, all soft flesh and smelling delicious, and looked at him with such an innocent gaze that it always shocked him at the filth that spilled out of your mouth.

"You should let me suck your cock."

Cooper sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs rattling and sending him into a short coughing fit. You pat his back softly, expression concerned, until the ghoul shrugs you off and stomps forward.

"Shouldn't be sayin' shit like that to men like me, Smoothie," Cooper bit out, and willed down the arousal that wanted to rise up and consume him like a fuckin' tidal wave. They rounded one last corner and came upon the entrance of Goodneighbor, and Cooper slumped a little in relief when they passed inside the safety of the walls. Boston was a dangerous place.

Down in the Third Rail, you sit by yourself at the bar, an annoyed pout on your lips as you sip the drink Charlie had whipped up for you. Cooper has already retired for the night, shacked up in a room at the Hotel Rexford. You don't understand why your ghoulish companion doesn't want to have sex with you. There wasn't something wrong with you was there?

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by a smokey voice, made rough by radiation and chems.

"Why the long face, sister?"

You turn and see one of the most attractive ghouls you've ever lain eyes on. He is lean and willowy, but you could see a hidden strength in the way he held himself. He wore a red colonial outfit, complete with a tricorn hat, and a smile so friendly you knew there was danger lurking beneath.

"Cat got your tongue?" He drawls after a moment, and you flush, thighs squeezing together just at the sound of his voice. It's over for you after that. You learn that his name is Hancock, and he's the Major of Goodneighbor. He buys you drinks, and it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before you turn to him, eyes hopeful.

"Will you have sex with me, Hancock?"

The ghoul doesn't miss a best, hands already on your hips as he leads you out of the Third Rail and to the hotel across the street, and conveniently right beside Cooper's rented room.

The bounty hunter wakes to the sound of two people fucking, and they are not being quiet about it. Cooper is seconds away from smacking the wall and snarling at them to shut the fuck up, when he recognizes the sound of your voice, and his annoyance turns straight to burning aroused, jealousy.

Blood rushes to his cock, and Cooper falls back in the bed, head hitting the pillow as he clenches his eyes shut. The sound of your breath moans, begging for more ring in his head, and the ghoul breaks. He pops the button of his pants and shoves them down, taking his aching dick in his hand and stroking roughly.

"Ahh~ harder, John. Please."

Cooper grits his teeth, regret curdling his stomach as he listens to someone else fuck you, take what he kept pushing away. It should be his fuckin' name that you moan, his cock that should be buried in your tight cunt. Coop wouldn't have kept pushing you away if he knew you sounded so sweet stuffed full.

"That's it, baby, ya feel so goddamn good."

The second voice is rough, and that green envy grows at recognizing the sound of another ghoul. Cooper snarls lowly in the room, his hand tight around his cock as he fucks his fist and imagines that it's him in the room with you, bending you over the bed and fucking you just like you've been begging him to.

The sounds you make grow in pitch, and Cooper follows right along, stroking his cock in time with the breathy pants that's fall from your lips. A strangled moan leaves his lips when his balls tighten, and he comes, seed spilling and coating his fist. Cooper sits up and wipes it off on the sheets without a care, brows pulled down in a scowl when the noise in the next room ceases.

Cooper stuffs his dick back in his pants and leaves the room, loping out of the hotel and back to the bar. He'd wait until you were finished with whoever the fuck John was, and then he'd be there to sweep you up. Coop wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Can already tell the scene where Crowley and Gabriel talk about memory loss is gonna be this season’s Plant Scene, in that it’s the scene I get weirdly obsessed with and read a lot into. But it’s just…so tonally strange and kind of disconcerting. It’s not just me, right?

It feels weirdly…secretive? Yes Aziraphale just told Crowley to go over and talk to Gabriel, and it’s not the only time they’re alone together, but it’s just the two of them, in a back room, no Aziraphale, and it has this kind of foreboding tone to it?

It seems very clear that Crowley has not told Aziraphale all the details of the attempted execution in Heaven and this is part of why he wants the secrecy.

Crowley is clearly furious at the beginning, but seems kinda disturbed when Gabe seems ready to follow his instructions to jump out the window. (EDIT: TO FALL idk why I didn’t pick up on this before.)

Crowley has his glasses off almost the entire scene. He takes them off so Gabriel can see his expression clearly when he’s at his most angry and threatening. But then he keeps them off for the whole rest of the scene, which just does not seem like something Crowley would be likely to do around Gabriel. He was just talking to Aziraphale about how he doesn’t feel safe/comfortable in the bookshop with Gabriel around. (What does it meeeaaannn)

“I feel like an empty house. A house where someone lived for a very long time, but now they’re gone, and the house can sort of tell where the things used to be” is such a raw fuckin line, and after the memory loss plot mostly being played for comedy it really stands out.

“It hurts to remember.” “I know. Do it anyway.” WHAT

The fact that Crowley seems to know that if pushed, Gabriel can remember bits and pieces (which he does). WHAT DOES IT MEEEAAAANNNNN

”If it happens again, it’ll make it seem like an institutional problem” being one of the 2-3 specific things Gabriel remembers.

“I know. Looking at where the furniture isn’t.” WHAT

Crowley, clearly extremely annoyed about his impulse to do so, offering Gabe a hot chocolate

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

My Valentine - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Older!Rafe x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

warnings: swearing, pet names, fingering, rafe and the reader watch their porno

📖 What do you get the man who has everything on Valentine’s Day?

✨ “You want your gift, daddy?

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.” ✨

800 words

Reader’s POV:

Valentine’s Day… What do you get your boyfriend? The man who has everything and anything he’s ever wanted, including you.

You pass him the little gift bag, watching his eyes sparkle as he takes it in, knowing he’ll most likely get something shiny purchased on his card. He humors you sweetly nonetheless, giving you that smile that makes your heart race a little faster.

His eyebrows pinch together as he pulls out the flash drive. “What do we have here?” He eyes the little device in his large palm, his curiosity peaks, turning the faux surprise genuine. He looks down at you, waiting for your response, but you simply shrug and giggle. “Alright. Alright. Let’s see what my girl got me. Yeah?”

He whisks you off your kitten-heeled feet, taking you into his arms, walking down the long hallways of Tanneyhill to his master bedroom. You let out a little gasp as you take everything in, the usual gifts and flowers, but Rafe loves how excited you get each time, regardless.

“Rafey…” You coo, making the high-points of his cheeks blush as you fawn over his sweetness and how well he takes care of you.

“Daddy’s always got you. You know that, princess,” he hums, dressing your new Tiffany necklace around your throat as he kisses his way to your ear. “Can’t wait to see what you got me, baby girl.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable? And I’ll go put something on,” you whisper onto his lips, to which he happily obliges.

You stroll over to the nightstand, littered with gifts purchased by Rafe, eyeing the lingerie sets.

“Somethin’ pink, princess,” he aids.

You change quickly, slipping into the matching silk robe before stepping into your heels again. Snagging the flash drive, you pop it into the tv, sauntering toward the bed as Rafe stalks your movements with a preditory stare, waiting for you to drop the delicate fabric.

His eyes are only on you for a moment before they roll back—Rafe grabbing for you fast, drawing you closer. You straddle his legs, feeling his cock, hard between your thighs.

“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he smiles, his hands drifting around to your ass, gripping tightly.

“Mmm… All night long?”

“All night long, angel. Gonna make you so dumb you forget your own name,” he chuckles raspily against your glossy lips.

“You want your gift, daddy?”

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.”

You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote, pressing play. Rafe’s eyes double with his devilish smile as he takes a rough grip on your curves. “Fuck, was this Moracco?” He rasps. “Did you record-” His voice trails off as he watches your naked body come into frame before adjusting the camera slightly, ensuring the perfect angle for him. “Holy shit. My girl looks fuckin’ good,” he moans before slapping your ass. “God damn. C’omere, princess.”

He snaps at the little band of your thong guiding you to slip it off. You finger the clasp of your bra flicking that away before relaxing your back into his muscular chest. Rafe snuggles into you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as you kiss on camera.

“Look at how good we look. Shit,” he sighs, kissing you gently on the neck, drifting up toward your ear. “My own personal pornstar,” he groans sinfully. His soft voice in your ears gives you the giggles. “Ugh… Not the giggle too. Just kill me, princess.”

He draws his hands up to your breasts, taking a hold of them, massaging them in his large palms. He circles your nipples slowly, making you whine.

“Fuck, I gotta big dick. You think she’s gonna take it all in that tight little pussy?” He taunts. Rafe’s hand drifts over your naval, lowering to your sex, his other hand resting lightly on your throat.

He massages the inside of your thighs with a heavy hand, dangerously close to where you’re craving him most. “Mmm…” you purr. He grabs your chin roughly, directing you toward his lips.

You let out an airy sigh when he slides his fingers through your folds, the tip of his ringed digits dipping in and out of your entrance. His fingers rub around your clit, small waves of pleasure with every stroke of the hand.

“We’re gonna watch this again and again,” his fingers mirror his words; a smile felt against your lips.

“Please, daddy.”

“So polite, princess. So good f’me. Look at you take my cock. Fuck m’givin’ it to you so good,“ he hums.

”So – So good,“ you pant as Rafe adds more friction. ”Just like that.“ You plead. Rafe kisses your neck roughly—your heart starts beating faster.

He lets out a wicked laugh as you repeat yourself on camera. “Yes, Rafe just like that. Fuck!” Your desperate cries come pouring out of the tv speakers. He repeats your words teasingly through kisses which only makes you wetter, the squelching of your own pussy making the video hard to hear.

”Bet you can’t wait for me to stuff you full of my cock. Hmm? Look at you beg for me. I’m ruining you, honey. Jesus fuck. N’you’re just takin’ me like the whore you are,” he grunts. Rafe adds all four fingers, his strong hands rubbing your bundle of nerves. You hit your crescendo. “That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me.”

You feel yourself pulsing, shockwaves gripping your body as you ride the waves of your orgasm. Rafe’s fingers slip along your pussy, sinking in and out of your entrance slowly, just playing with you, letting you soak in all your pleasure.

You watch yourself fall apart on camera as Rafe cums with you. The two of you reaching for air, panting and kissing between breathes as he plays with the cum slipping out of your soaked hole, before stuffing it deep inside.

He lift his finger to his lips, sucking them clean before reaching for the remote.

“Round two, princess.”

[mariposa-drowned]

Hear me out, Ellie x pregnant reader doing the trend where you lift up your s/o belly to relieve the weight and then having a lil heart to heart bc you just feel so useless due to said pregnancy

Ellie was currently scrolling tiktok as you sat on the couch together, your attention being taken up by whatever show you had thrown on TV, not even noticing the sound coming from Ellie's phone, you were so used to her needing multiple different forms of entertainment at the same time that it barley even phased you anymore.

You were eight months pregnant and ready for this baby to be out. You're tired all the time and can't stand for too long without discomfort, which made you feel useless. No matter how much Ellie assured you she was completely fine with taking over daily tasks, even having Joel over sometimes to entertain you while she worked on stuff, or the other way around. Tommy had even been over a few times with Maria as she tried to offer you tips and tricks on how to deal with the discomfort.

Ellie felt terrible that she couldn't do more for you. Besides massages and the occasional sex that you swore helped; Ellie was always looking for ways to help. Which is why when a video popped up of a man getting behind his wife to lift her pregnant belly for a few seconds, Ellie was immediately ushering you up, hoping that you would get the same relief that the girl in the video seemed to get.

"Ellie what the hell are you doing"

"just trust me babe this is gonna feel great"

"don't kill me please. Or the baby"

Ellie rolled her eyes, positioning herself behind you, her long arms coming to intertwine right below your bump.

"kay take a deep breath"

You huffed but did as told. Then a sudden rush of incredible relief filling you as Ellie lifted your bump up you groaned, your hand reaching behind you to entangle itself in Ellie's hair.

"hooolyyy fuck Ellie"

"yeah? That feel good mama?"

"ohmygod can we just stay here for a minute please"

"as long as you need babe"

You were practically on the verge of tears from the relief you were currently feeling, you hand gripping a bit harder where it was entangled in Ellie's hair. She noticed your teary eyes, quickly becoming concerned.

"hey what's wrong am I hurting you?" She worried as she slowly started to drop your belly.

"don't you dare drop your hands Ellie Williams"

You immediately gripped her hand with a force she didn't even know you possessed.

Ellie immediately reassumed her position "christ babe sorry, was just a bit worried when my wife starts crying"

"just feels really fuckin good els" you stated with watery eyes

"hey hey don't cry mama, it's alright I'll do this whenever you need until they're here babe. It's alright"

"m'sorry just feels s'nice, I just feel so useless because I'm so uncomfortable all the time n I can't do anything"

Ellies heart broke a little at your confession "don't be sorry at all, you hear me?" C'mon let's go sit for a minute, I promise I'll do this again later, jus' wanna talk to you"

You leaned your head back to try and meet her eyes, your vision still a bit blurred

"pinky swear?"

"cross my heart babe. C'mon I'm gonna start lowerin my hands now"

You tried to keep her there as long as you could, but inevitably Ellie's hands left their place under your stomach. You sighed as she started to lead you to the couch. She plopped down, spreading her legs and ushering you in-between them to which you promptly did, getting as comfortable as you could in-between her legs.

Ellie grabbed one of your hands, the other resting on your bulging stomach tracing small shapes.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute babe"

You tilted you head back to lean on your shoulder semi-looking at her while humming a small mhm

"I love you. So much. But you need to understand that you are actively making a living being in you right now. You are allowed to be sick and tired and uncomfortable, it's expected. But you need to understand that we are in this together. I will always be here, I want to be here for you, which means that if you can't do something, I pull my weight here. That's my job mama, I gotta take care of you and little bean" Ellie smiled through her last sentence, looking down to meet your smiling face aswell

"I love you els. Thank you, for everything"

"always and forever babe"

"always and forever" you smiled back at her, leaning up to give a peck on Ellie's lips.

[theemporium]

GIVE ME ANYTHING REMUS QUEEN! i’ve become such a whore for him recently it’s not even funny

YOU ASK AND I DELIVER🫡

.

“Remus, stop.” 

“Just stay quiet and nobody will find out, sweetheart.” 

“They will—”

“That’s not staying quiet, now is it, doll?” 

The blood roaring in your ears and the heart thundering in your chest did little to drown out the voice in the back of your head that was screaming for you to just shut up, to just sit back and let the pretty boy between your legs do whatever he liked. And maybe your conscience would have agreed if it weren’t for the fact you were tucked away in the corner of the library, with your insatiably boyfriend under the desk as he pushed your legs apart.

You knew Remus got a little more needy the closer to the full moon. He was relentless, dragging you into broom closets or skipping classes to fuck you in the bathroom. His hands would always be touching you, he would use any excuse to kiss you and he just wanted to be around you 24/7 which you usually didn’t have a problem with. 

But this was different—you could get caught and you weren’t sure you could deal with the mortification of having Professor McGonagall sit there and wait for you to explain why your boyfriend was eating you out under the table in a public library.

“This is risky,” you whispered, your eyes glancing around nervously as though you expected for somebody to pop out from between the aisles and catch you. 

“You seem to like that,” he mused, the hands on your thighs tugging you closer to the edge of the seat as he began to kiss along your inner thighs, head ducked under your skirt. 

“No, I don’t—oh,” you let out a choked gasp, your head falling back a little as he ran his tongue along your clothed cunt.

“Liar,” he growled against you, too impatient to even tug your panties down your legs as his fingers hooked the wet material, pushing them to the side. 

Your nails dug into the wooden desk, lips pressed together as you desperately fought to keep quiet. The truth was that you were putty in his hands the second he crawled under the desk, muttering that he needed to taste you.

“So fuckin’ good f’me,” he groaned, licking from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way your legs shivered at the touch. 

Your legs moved to close themselves but Remus kept them pinned open, tongue lapping at your soaking cunt as you withered and squirmed in your seat. His nose nudged against your swollen cunt, making a small high-pitched noise leave your lips in surprise. And you felt the smug fucker smile against your cunt. 

“Remus,” you pleased, your voice breathy and whiny and fuck, he loved it. 

“Shhh, gonna take care of m’girl, okay?” he murmured as he tugged you closer, your legs now thrown over his shoulder as his tongue teased your entrance, his guttural moan humming through your body.

The nail marks left on the table were long forgotten when Remus tipped you over the edge, thumb pressing against your clit in slow circles as you came on his tongue. The rest of the library quickly forgotten when he didn’t stop, tongue lapping at your cunt as you came again, and then one more time. 

And you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about how loud you were when his head popped up from under your skirt, eyes dark and grin wolfish as his lips and chin glistened with your release.

“My girl always looks so pretty when she’s fucked out.”

.

[chamomiletealeaf]

Hey mama😚 I saw that you’re taking requests and I came RUNNINGGGGG to ask you this, so!

How do we feel the 141 men would react to being with a taller, thicker girlie that often gets insecure bc of that? This idea has been brewin for a minutee so I had to get it outta my system😭 if you’re comfortable with it too could you involve konig in it? Don’t feel pressured to ofc 😚💕

Have a good rest of your day/afternoon/night!! Xoxo💋

Hi! I love this ask! I myself am not too tall, around 5'5 (5'4" 3/4 to be exact) and I have never been very skinny, but hopefully I can do this idea justice!

warnings: afab! fem reader, smut MDNI, body worship

Price is a thigh man and he will die on that hill. He just loves your legs. Since you are taller than most girls, that just means there's more of your legs. You were Price's dream come true because not only were you tall, your thighs were so perfectly plump from how thick you were too. When he first met you when Laswell introduced you two at her wedding anniversary party, you wore a skirt that ended mid thigh, leaving just enough to his imagination, and just enough for him to get a peek at your thighs. He noticed he didn't have to break his neck looking down at you, and immediately imagined how easy it would be to kiss you. He also noticed your damn heels he thought looked so fucking sexy on you, creating the illusion of elongating your legs even further and making you taller, which just brought you closer up to his lips.

That night ended with him taking your heels off for you and slowly dragging his hands and mouth up your long legs, making every sting from snide comments about your skirt or heels melt away.

Your body is so soft in his hands and he loves squeezing you. He'll kiss you and both of his hands are immediately on your ass squeezing, making you yelp.

"Mmm. Damn lovie. This fucking arse is delicious." He'll smirk down at you while you giggle at his choice of words and his hands move down to pinch your thighs.

"And these thighs. Just wanna bite 'em up."

You always know how this goes. Whenever his hands are on you and he's talking to you like this, it always ends up with his head between your thighs.

And "bite 'em up" he does. He sucks hickeys into your inner thighs and leaves little bite marks.

"Fuck sweetheart. Look at that. A little love bite right there so you don't forget who's face belongs between your thighs."

Bonus if you squeeze your thighs around his head. It would make him cum immediately.

Price would love thigh fucking. Arguably even more than vaginal sex. Something about the way your thighs squeeze him so nicely without even trying, your slick lubing your pussy and thighs perfectly and just enough for his thick cock to slide in and out between them.

"Fuck darlin' look at that. Don't even need to press your thighs together for me to fuck them. Squeezing me so well. You're so fucking soft."

Simon is so pleasantly surprised when he first meets you. You were tall and you weren't even wearing heels which made Simon silently groan behind his mask as he thought about your long thick legs locking around his waist as he pounded into you.

Your forehead would come up right to his lips, making it so easy to kiss it, which he always took advantage of.

I feel like Simon would also just pick you up randomly. Lifting you up easily when you complain about being too tall or heavy to show you that you are not.

Most times he'll throw you on the bed and show you why your height and thickness are perfect.

"See honey, if you were short, your legs wouldn't be able to lift yourself up and down my cock so easily would they?" He says in your ear, gripping your hips while you ride him.

Or when he's fucking you in doggy with a death grip on your waist when you're feeling insecure he'll say:

"Yeah bunny just like that. Look at that perfect fuckin' ass bouncing back on me. If you were smaller I wouldn't get to grip your cute little love handles like this now would I hm? They're called love handles for a reason now aren't they?" He says between pants.

Gaz is speechless the first time he sees you. You made him feel like a nerdy schoolboy passing by his popular crush in the hallway. You were taller and bigger than most girls he's seen but that just meant there was more of you for him to love.

He loves seeing you get all dressed up, and especially when you wear fitted dresses and outfits so he can see every shape and curve of your body. He loves how his clothes can fit you just right and thinks it's so cute that you two can share clothes.

You'll try his jeans on and the length will be good enough, but you cannot slide them over the tops of your thighs and ass, making him smirk, but you look in the mirror embarrassed that you are bigger than your boyfriend.

"What's that look for?" He asks, seeing you pout in the mirror and looking behind you at your ass that won't fit in his jeans and you continue to try and pull them up, making the waist band catch under your ass which makes it jiggle with each tug.

"Keep doin' that love. Don't think you know what that view looks like from back here." He says with a full on cheeky smile now.

"Stop it Gaz." You warn him with a glare, genuinely upset his jeans won't fit.

"Aww it's ok hun." He says walking up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder.

"I'd rather see you without pants on anyways." He says, and you look down and away from him. Even when you're upset, he still finds a way to make you blush.

Then he'd kiss all up and down your neck, then your arms, and all down your legs pulling the jeans off. He kisses his way back up your body up to your ears and whispers:

"On the bed honey. Need to feel you."

And before you know it, you're sitting on Gaz's face while he locks your thighs around his head with his arms and you can't remember what even got you here in the first place.

"Gaz. Baby can you breathe?" You ask worriedly.

He just grunts disapprovingly and locks his arms around you harder so you don't get the idea to scoot away and you moan, feeling his head nuzzle itself deeper between your thighs.

He doesn't care if he can't breathe. You're the only air he'll ever need.

Johnny is absolutely SMITTEN when he first sees you and he's the most obvious. Mouth agape and eyes wide when Price introduces you to the task force as his niece and Gaz smacks him over the head.

Since then he's been literally obsessed with you and since you started dating, he brags to everyone about how he has the most gorgeous woman in the world.

Johnny loves when you wear heels too. Not only because it makes you taller and accentuates your long legs, but because Johnny is the shortest of the Task Force men, and when you wear heels, his eyes are perfectly aligned with your tits.

Whenever you wear heels around him he is not looking at your eyes. It takes everything in him to not just lean forward and smush his face into your cleavage. For Johnny, a bigger girl also meant bigger boobs for him to play with. He'll also come behind you and just squeeze them, reveling in how much they fill his palms. He just loves your tits so much. You'll be laying down on the couch and he's jumping right on top of you burying his face in them with a content sigh, or he'll be begging you to let him fuck them. He'll slide his cock between your tits and he will absolutely lose his mind for sure, watching how they bounce with each thrust.

For Halloween you two would be Gomez and Morticia since you are literally them in real life anyways.

You definitely feed into his mommy kink. He loves how you hold his head against his chest when he needs a snuggle and how he doesn't feel the need to be so careful handling you, and that way you can treat him like the finest porcelain doll.

König would feel elated and strangely validated since he knows what it's like to be seen as "the tall one".

And with you, for the first time, he doesn't feel so estranged. He, of course was still taller than you, but he loved how you were tall too.

He thinks it's so hot seeing you with your friends and you're taller than them. It gives him a sense of pride knowing that the most noticeable and beautiful girl in the room is his.

I feel like König would absolutely love when you give him handjobs. He's so big that the other women he's been with couldn't exactly hold him correctly or jerk him off fast enough due to his size.

But you? Since you were a little closer to his size, you made it work, two hands, and if you really tried one hand, squeezing and jerking him the way no other woman has, making him shoot cum all over himself.

And he loves how your legs can reach up on his shoulders while he fucks you in a mating press. A shorter woman would have a harder time reaching their legs over him in that position, and finally being able to do it gave him this primal urge to fuck you like he would never fuck anyone else again, not like he ever would want to since he found you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🪱

cw: temporary character death (Eddie is alive and well in my heart and in every story I ever write don’t you worry)

steve doesn’t know why he still feels such a deep pull towards the trailer park. he thinks it’s because of max at first, but once max is awake and teasing him like she was never in a coma at all, he realizes that’s not it.

he feels…fluttery. like he can’t sit still, or focus, like he’s floating in the universe. like he’s waiting for something.

but he doesn’t fucking know what.

robin keeps telling him he should consider his feelings for eddie, how maybe the friendship they’d acquired meant a little more than steve initially thought. maybe steve has some internal deep-diving to still do.

but steve did that already. he concluded that he very much would’ve liked to kiss eddie on the lips with tongue. maybe forever.

eventually, he gives in and visits the trailer park. most people moved after everything, and eddie’s trailer is still neglected. his uncle moved closer to the plant as soon as he heard eddie was gone. trying to fix the trailer didn’t feel as important to him without his nephew coming home.

there’s no reason for the way his hands shake and his lips quiver as he walks up the porch steps. there’s no reason for his heart racing as he cracks open the busted front door. and there’s certainly no reason for his dick hardening the moment he catches a scent he recognizes as eddie.

the man is dead, dude. get yourself together.

but as he walks further into the trailer, closer to what was eddie’s bedroom before it got raided by the cops and ruined by people who thought the worst of him, the scent gets stronger. steve’s sweating. his breath catches and he nearly chokes on his own saliva.

eddie’s there.

eddie’s there in his bed.

alive.

and suddenly that pull he’s felt for so long makes sense, and he recognizes it for what it really is: some creepy monster connection.

“it’s about fuckin’ time,” eddie grits out. “i couldn’t leave here until you came.”

“what? how?” steve is so lost, so confused. “what’s happening?”

“what’s happening is that you and i both got some major shit to discuss with your friends. the bats gave us some kinda venom and i can hear every single thought you have.” eddie smirks. “which has definitely helped me pass the time.”

steve blushes because he knows exactly what eddie’s talking about. “you can hear my thoughts? why can’t i hear yours?”

eddie shrugs. “i guess my exposure was more so i have more powers? i dunno. but i love what you were thinking with the rope. that was clever. definitely up for it if you are.”

“can i please have a second to come to terms with you being alive before we start planning out my sexual fantasies?” steve rubs his hands across his face. “i don’t understand how you’re here.”

“probably the venom.”

“you seem way too calm.”

“i’ve had two months to find calm.”

steve looks around the room, sees wrappers on the bedside table and dirty clothes piled in the hamper. most of his personal belongings are still sitting at the police station, but his acoustic guitar and a notebook are sprawled in front of him on his bed.

“you’ve been here for two months? alone?”

“with your thoughts, yes.”

“so you-“

“yep.”

“and when i-“

“uh huh.”

“and you’d want to-“

“most definitely.”

steve nodded, sure of himself for the first time in a long time. “can you leave here now?”

“probably. why? you gonna whisk me away to your castle so we can pleasure each other in the moonlight?” eddie’s teasing grin should annoy steve, but he’s gone too long without it and he thought he’d never get to see it again. “quite sappy, aren’t you?”

“if you promise to never refer to sex as pleasuring each other, i’ll definitely take you back to mine.”

“i’m sorry. would you prefer the term making love?”

“yes, actually.”

eddie’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t tease. “then we should…go…do that.”

steve leans down to kiss the corner of eddie’s mouth, shocking both of them with how quickly and naturally it happens.

“should we bring a blanket to cover you in the backseat? until we figure out what we need to do to keep you safe.”

eddie wraps a blanket around his shoulders and stands up. “lead the way, my liege.”

[thebearer]

Annnnnnd how would Lip act in the situation of the devastation fic

i’ve had to think about this tbh. bc he kinda already had his own version with the unexpected pregnancy news of freddy.

but i started thinking in terms of lip’s reader leaving and taking the kids with her, and genuinely, i can’t think of a situation where that would happen and she would come back. like they’d be done.

now, with that being said, i could see lip and you getting into a fight- a huuuuugggeee fight. bigher than the one when you found out you were pregnant with amelia. this is based off of lip with best friend!reader who’s a elementary school teacher. she does pretty well, has a salary and insurance so wayyyy better than anything lip grew up with, but they’re not rich by any means. truly comfortable. lip’s working at the auto shop, still doing odd ball jobs but more full time, got promoted to a shift supervisor and got a raise. you both share a bank account together bc it makes it easier.

debby (bc it’s always debby and i’m a debby hater sorry) does something stupid. stupid enough to need bail money, stupid enough that she might get franny taken away or placed into custody elsewhere. debby calls lip, wailing and frantic for money, and lip, of course, rushes to give in.

comes to you all frantic and manic. “hey, uh, i-i need to move some money alright?”

“move some money? why?” you frown. “lip, are you- is everything alright?”

“debby got arrested.” lip mumbles. he’s known you for a while, a long while, he knows your disdain when it comes to debby and her carelessness. more so, his incessant need to always pull her out of the hole she dug herself in. “she needs money for bail.”

“woah, woah, hold on.” you stop him. “you’re- you’re not- lip, absolutely not.”

“what?” lip snaps. “absolutely not? what-“

“-lip.” you glare at him lightly. “no, we-we don’t have that kind of money right now. jude starts daycare next month, and the daycare fees are going to double-“

“-yeah because you insist on puttin’ them in that fancy ass one by your school.” lip scoffs. “couldn’t leave them with mrs. mcgee. too fuckin’ good for that.”

“yeah, i am too good to leave my babies with a lady who chain smokes and watches the price is right all day.” you glare. “i want my babies to go somewhere safe and- that’s not even the point right now. lip, no. you’re not doing it. we can’t afford it.”

“we can fucking afford it. don’t start this shit with me-“

“-lip, we might have the money for it, but that does not mean we can afford it. that’s our savings, our safety net-“

“-and this is my family. my sister.” lip gritted his teeth. “isn’t that what the safety nets for, huh? for shit like this? unexpected bad shit?”

“not for debby.” you snap, finality in your tone. “not for someone who continues to make bad decisions and not learn from them and then wants you to run and get her out of it every time. i’m sorry, lip. this time i’m not letting you do it.”

that escalates bc one, you told lip he couldn’t do something which just made him turn more stubborn, and two, he’s blinded with irrational rage.

“what about franny, huh? she’s your fuckin’ niece, you’re gonna just let her get put in the system-“

“-franny is more than welcome to stay here. i will gladly take her while debby’s figuring shit out, but you have kids you need to think of. two kid that are yours that you need to think of, lip!”

“don’t you fucking dare.” lip snarls. “don’t you use my kids against me.”

“i’m not using them against you! jesus, lip, you don’t get to just come in here and tell me what we’re doing with our money! that’s my money in there too, ok? i’m telling you right now, if you fuckin’ use my money on this, and not think about our kids, you might as well just not come home.”

lip is furious, leaves without another word, slamming the door hard behind him leaving you in the house with freddy and baby jude. you’re fuming, upset, hurt- he’s feeling the same. lip is furious, furious at you telling him what to do.

he ends up at ian’s house after coming dangerously close to going to the alibi. ian talks him down, tells him you’re right, which was not what lip wanted to hear.

“debby can wait. she’ll get out soon enough and she can figure it out.” ian rolls his eyes. “she shouldn’t have been such a fuckin’ moron.”

“what about franny then, huh? you’re gonna just let her go into the system? let cps get her until then?” lip spat furiously.

ian scoffs. “franny is with carl right now. he’s bringin’ her here tonight.”

lip burns with embarrassment, feeling petulant but still pissed. “hey, word of advice?” ian smirks. “quit bein’ a hard headed jack ass and go home and apologize to your wife before she comes to her senses and leaves your ass for good.”

and lip is still mad but it’s dwindling, a guilt replacing it instead. he just needed to calm down, to think straight. walking back to your house, he had the time to.

lip jammed his key in the door, the ridges not sliding the usual way, not clicking. so he tried again, turning the key with no luck- it didn’t budge. he pulled on the knob, twisting again and again but nothing. “stupid fuckin’ piece of shit door.” lip grumbles, knocking on the door.

he waits, huffing, knocking louder. when there was still no response, lip goes to pull out his phone, only then does he see the pink envelope with his name on it on the welcome mat.

lip opens it up to find a note:

“phillip,

since you insist on doing whatever you want without asking me or considering our family, i decided i would do the same. you can go stay with debby since you chose her over me and my kids.

ps. don’t bother with the lock, i had them changed xoxo”

he found his car keys under the envelope. lip was furious, absolutely fucking furious and sick and upset and just overwhelmed with every emotion possible. you hadn’t even given him his lighter, so he took a walk to the corner store to buy a pack of spirits and a lighter. he called you on his way back, not surprised when you didn’t pick up.

“hey, you know, i know you think you’re bein’ real fuckin’ funny but this shit isn’t funny, ok? i didn’t choose debby, i didn’t do shit, alright? so let me back in the house and let’s be adults about this.”

then another voicemail.

“alright, seriously? you’re not gonna let me in? you’re not gonna let me come say goodnight to freddy or jude? that’s fucked up. really fuckin’ fucked up.”

“you’re bitchin’ me out about not spending money, and-and you get that done? get the locks changed? how much did that cost huh? you can use money to be petty and childish but i don’t get a say in what i want to use it in?”

“ok this is ridiculous. let me in. talk to me. be a fuckin’ adult.”

“seriously? where the fuck am i supposed to sleep tonight? i know you’re fuckin’ seeing’ these- i can fuckin’ see you! just let me in!”

you don’t budge. don’t reply back, don’t answer the calls. he knows better than to bang on the door, wake jude or freddy up, and truthfully… he’s a little terrified at the moment. very scared that you’re truly done with him, that ian was right and you’d come to your senses.

so he slept in his car. in the driveway, thankful it was warm that night and he had a few spare shirts and things in the back. he waited until the next morning, when he knew you’d be up with the boys, to ring the doorbell.

his anger had vanished to fear and guilt, retreating back to you with his tail tucked between his legs, all sad eyes and gentle apologies that you deflected with anger still bubbling.

it definitely took him a while to make it up, a very long while before you actually gave him his new key. he had to make it up to you, work on his communication and his sharing especially with you.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Hey I know this isn't on-topic for an Eridan blog but you're the best HS theorist I know <3 so do you happen to have any theories about WHY Gamzee faked god tier? I always see theories about how he could be a real god tier too, or about how he manages to be immortal even though he's not god tier, but I cannot find any discussion of WHY he bothered with that ruse in the first place!!! He didn't even fool anyone, unless we count Caliborn for like 2 secs before Hussie told him the truth, and all he got for his trouble was shot!

I think it's mostly a gag, but this is the Analyzing Homestuck blog, so: I think it's because Gamzee wants to look like an adult to impress Caliborn.

Gamzee's lusus is physically neglectful.

But you were never taught that on account of a lousy upbringing. Your custodian was always out to sea.

And several things stem from that neglect - the first, his indoctrination into the Clown Cult, the second, his extensive and all-encompassing drug usage, and the third, his poor social skills, which leave him ostracized by his teammates.

Let's first take a look at what, exactly, that religion entails:

You belong to a RATHER OBSCURE CULT, which foretells of a BAND OF ROWDY AND CAPRICIOUS MINSTRELS which will rise one day on a MYTHICAL PARADISE PLANET that does not exist yet. The beliefs of this cult are SOMEWHAT FROWNED UPON by those dwelling in more common lawnrings.

TC: I PeEpEd oN A PlAcE Of 6 tRiLlIoN HeMoS TC: AlL Up aT OnE RoCk, BlEeDiNg aS EqUaLs TC: It's eAsY To sEe iF YoU SeArCh aLl yOuR FeElInS TC: ThAt pEaCe hApPeNs fIrSt, AnD MuRdEr's tHe sEqUeL TC: It's tHe bEaUtY Of tHe cArNiVaL, tHe mAgIc's iN TeNtS

TC: all my life i believed at a fuckin paradise to come what held the most baller, darkest of carnivals to join. TC: AND A PROPHECY TC: to tell all about a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels steeped in the good harshwhimsy. TC: THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE FORETOLD TO BE CRASHING THAT FUCKING PIE STAND AND BRING THE HOLY RUCKUS. TC: like a giddy fuckin ninja one wheeling head long at the hugest fuckin horn heap shangri la's got to see. TC: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE VAST HONK, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER. TC: what i believed in it to be was so beautiful, us and them all mellowing in tents, bumpin sounds, tossing back the faygo and soaking the miracles up our faith sponges, while the special stardust rained down at our elixir sticky faces, like a bunch a fuckin fairy powder from religion space. TC: IT WAS GOING TO BE US AND MOTHER FUCKING THEM. TC: them and mother fuckin us. :o(

In essence: Gamzee's cult believes that there will be a Vast Honk, which will kill all trolls; however, "a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels" will usher in/create a new paradaisical planet of nothing but good vibes and chill times, where the "mirthful messiahs" will get to enjoy eternity.

There's pretty clear parallels here to the Christian concept of the Rapture, which fits in with the Garden of Eden/Original Sin themes of the Dancestors and the Second Coming thing Karkat's got going on. But, more importantly, it's also pretty directly just... what SGRUB/SBURB are all about. Their original population all dies, but a bunch of kids band together to create a new universe, with new planets, where theoretically live out the rest of their godhood in peace and happiness.

Were it not for the casteist influences as a result of being a cult largely followed by highbloods, there'd pretty much be nothing inherently objectionable about Gamzee's belief system - it's fundamentally hopeful, and, in fact, when he raps about it to Tavros, part of it is outright about "equalizing" the hemocaste (they all bleed as equals, see). Tavros agrees:

AT: tHE SLAMS WERE TRULY PRIME, aND, AT: yOUR RELIGIOUS VIEWS, tHOUGH i DON'T SHARE THEM, aRE, AT: rEASONABLY INSPIRATIONAL, AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR,

Next, we'll look at the sopor usage and ostracization together, because I think they're interlinked. People on Gamzee's team are friggin' mean to him.

CG: MIRACLES ARE LIKE POOP STAINS ON GOD'S UNDERWEAR. TA: eheheh makiing fun of people2 reliigiion2 i2 the be2t thiing two do.

GC: NO TH4T SHOULD BOTH3R YOU, TH4T R34SON GC: WHY DONT TH1NGS L1K3 TH4T BOTH3R YOU?? GC: NO WOND3R V4NT4S C4NT ST4ND YOU

CT: D --> What you do appear to know is e%actly how to ma%imize my livid contempt for you CT: D --> With your revolting language and your sense of decorum CT: D --> At such breathtaking odds with the richness and perfe%ion of your b100d CT: D --> I just hate you so much

CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT

On the whole, the team treats him as the party joke, if not outright worthy of derision. The one person on his team who IS nice to him, Tavros, ghosts him after Gamzee is too forward and asks to make out with him. He's deeply lonely, and what's more, his introductory narration is littered with pessimism.

You'll be doing one thing then something else hits you just like that and you roll with it. That's what you do when life hands you lemons. You sure as fuck don't make lemonade because who the fuck knows where that fuckin' shit comes from?

Someone is bugging you. This is exciting. You're always down for shooting the wicked shit with anyone that who'll put up with you.

That last one makes it clear that Gamzee is also aware of how much people on the team don't like him.

I'm also of the opinion that "Soft Gamzee" was always fake and never existed, which is outright stated by Hussie from the book:

The best explanation for why Gamzee says he's scared of Vriska, in my opinion, is this: he's flat-put lying. It's a good way for him to maintain his cover as 'Soft Gamzee.' It also provides some ammunition for those who, against all sense of good taste and judgment, want to continue to believe and assert that Gamzee is a decent guy with sensitive emotions and vulnerabilities before he undergoes his Muderstuck awakening. He was none of those things, ever.

But there's evidence for this - Gamzee has actually always been kind of casteist:

AT: i THINK i'M IN THE PROCESS OF RELEASING AT LEAST ONE TEAR, TC: Me tOo, BrO, yOu mOtHeR FuCkIn kNoW ThErE Be sOmE Of mY EyE's RoYaL JeLlY To gO WiTh yOuR EmOtIoNaL pEaNuT BuTtEr. AT: wHOA, aHA, hA,

He's trying to be affectionately so here, but given Tavros's "whoa, haha," reaction, it seems like it's still a pretty out-of-pocket thing to say. Especially in light of GamRezi, it's pretty easy to read him as making passive-aggressive digs to Terezi here:

TC: I'm OuTsIdE kEePiNg An EyE oUt HeRe FoR tHe OlD gOaT. TC: yOu KnOw HoW iT iS wItH fAmIlY. GC: NO, NOT R34LLY! GC: 4DURRRR DURR DURP TC: Oh YeAh...

TC: hAvE yOu EvEr EvEn SeEn ThE oCeAn? TC: oR i MeAn SmElLeD iT... TC: SoRrY. GC: >:[

His reaction to Eridan is also "indulge emotional theatrics," but depending on whether you believe Eridan killed his lusus, it's debatably justified. I'm just going to mention that that's also there.

His constant assertion that Karkat is his best friend, which isn't reciprocated until after murderstuck, also kind of reads as a palecrush to me. This is supported by the fact that Nepeta has always had pale GamKat on her shipping wall - which I believe is more representative of how people feel and what they want than whether a romantic pairing is viable, as part of her Heart (and NOT Blood) powers.

He won't stop referring to Karkat as his best friend, really awkwardly changes the topic when the conversation has led to him having to acknowledge that Karkat is closer to Sollux (whom Karkat calls his best friend):

TC: yEaH mAyBe BuT hE's YoUr BeSt FrIeNd ThOuGh So It'S aLl CoOl. TC: AnYwAy I tHoUgHt ThIs SoUnDeD lIkE a PrEtTy BiG mOtHeRfUcKiN dEaL mY mAn. TC: aAaUuUhHh... CG: WHAT. TC: Aw BrO nEvErMiNd, I jUsT fUcKiN dId LiKe To ScArE tHe ShIt OuTtA mYsElF hErE. TC: tHeSe DaMn HoRnS.

(Sidebar about the usage of "best friend," Karkat pretty much outright says he's unreliable when it comes to who his best friend is at any given moment LOL - he spends pre-murderstuck insisting Sollux is HIS best friend. King of mixed signals.)

EB: who is gamzee? CG: HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND. EB: really? i thought terezi was your best friend. ... CG: GAMZEE WAS MY VERY GOOD FRIEND, WHO WAS THIS GOOFY LOVEABLE BULLSHIT CLOWN UNTIL HE WENT PSYCHO AND KILLED SOME PEOPLE. I LIKED HIM A LOT. CG: I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS MY BEST FRIEND IS REALLY JUST THE GUY WHO I HAPPEN TO BE FEELING MOST SENTIMENTAL TO AT THE MOMENT, IS THAT A FUCKING CRIME.

If we take Hussie's statement that Gamzee lied when he chased Vriska (whom he doesn't like) away from his horn pile -

GAMZEE: VrIsKa hEy yOu wAnT To uH… VRISKA: What? GAMZEE: ShIt, I WaS AlL GoInG To aSk iF YoU WaNtEd tO HoP In tHe hOrN PiLe fOr a bIt oF MoThErFuCkIn sHuTeYe, BuT… GAMZEE: I DoN'T ThInK I WiLl cAuSe i'm pReTtY MuCh sCaReD Of yOu, SoyEaH. VRISKA: Aww. ::::)

Then it stands to reason he's also lying about being scared of Jack so he can prevent Eridan from providing Karkat with emotional support:

CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter CA: put kar on TC: UuUuH, i cAn't rEaLlY ThInK AbOuT InTeRvEnInG, tHe bLaCk fRoWnInG MoThErFuCkEr kInDa sCaReS Me

So, personally, signs point to Gamzee always having been a lot shiftier and meaner than he let on.

Naturally, that begs the question of why he's pretending to be nicer and higher than he actually is (not that he isn't high, but he's definitely more cognizant of what's going on than people both in- and out-of-universe give him credit for). Well, the answer to that is pretty simple: it's because he loves his friends and wants to get along with them.

You like to chat a lot with your pal Karkat, who is usually pretty cranky, but he is your BEST FRIEND. You have a lot of OTHER GREAT FRIENDS who you also like a lot.

Gamzee's story pre-murderstuck is a pretty tragic one about a kid who never got to learn proper socialization and has whacked-out religious beliefs, whose neglect from his lusus has left him with deep loneliness, who desperately wants to fit in with his friends, especially the lowbloods, and therefore feels the need to hide how pessimistic and angry he actually is under the guise of drug usage and not retaliating against the constant digs they make at him.

I also feel like I have to specify that Gamzee was already a pretty angry, mean, troubled kid prior to Murderstuck, because it helps to clarify his actions after being influenced by Lil' Cal. The nonlinear nature of the story kind of confuses the sequence of events, but it seems to be as follows:

Dave blasphemes against Gamzee's religion so hard that Gamzee has a total crisis of faith.

Gamzee has a breakdown and gets so pissed off that he oopsie-daisy'd a jester puppet into John's room on Prospit.

Gamzee, with his faith lost ("and now i don't know what to think about the spiritual fantasies i had"), Tavros dead, and thus in a very emotionally fragile state, is contacted by Doc Scratch and given instructions (likely to kill his friends and paint his wicked pictures in their blood). At some point during this, he falls under Lil' Cal's influence, too. As every person we've seen under LE's sway has very compelling, natural reasons for acting the way they do, I think it's better to see Lil' Cal's influence as influence and not mind control. It brings out the worst in its victims, but only what was already there.

This seems to give Gamzee a new belief system to replace/supplement the old.

TC: i've been kicking the wicked ignorance on this shit. TC: BEEN MOTHERFUCKIN SLAUGHTERING THE WICKED IGNORANCE, BRO. TC: all up in lifelong denial about my calling. TC: AS A DESCENDANT OF THE HIGH MOTHERFUCKIN SUBJUGGLATORS. TC: we are higher than you, brother. TC: WE ARE HIGHER THAN MOTHERFUCKIN EVERYBODY. TC: honk. CG: GAMZEE CG: PLEASE NO TC: and now i'm the last one, so i finally motherfuckin understand. TC: I FINALLY GOT MY MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTAND ON TO WHO THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS ARE. TC: they were always both me. :o) TC: AND ALSO MOTHERFUCKING ME. Do:

Remember, his original belief system actually emphasized equalizing the castes - in death, anyway. It also never specified that the Mirthful Messiahs would be specifically highbloods. The hint that Gamzee had internalized casteism was always there, but now that his belief system has been supplanted by this new one, delivered by Doc Scratch (the story's Devil figure), his casteism becomes full-blown:

GAMZEE: heheh. GAMZEE: CHECK IT THE MOTHERFUCK OUT. GAMZEE: it's the peasantblood. GAMZEE: HEH HEH. GAMZEE: fuckin heh. EQUIUS: D --> Peasantb100d EQUIUS: D --> Is that a joke GAMZEE: if your blood. GAMZEE: IS A RUNNING MOTHERFUCKING GAG. GAMZEE: then soon. GAMZEE: IT WILL BE RUNNING. GAMZEE: through my motherfucking fingers.

TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know? CG: UH... CG: NO? I MEAN, I WOULD NEVER EAT IT, BUT TC: THEN GET MOTHERFUCKIN SCHOOLFED ALL ABOUT THE WICKED NEWS, PUNCHLINE BLOODED MOTHERFUCKER.

Basically, the religious boy had a crisis of faith and was tempted by the Devil into becoming his servant - into desiring utter oblivion for everyone except his own continued existence within the one doing the destroying, rather than a paradise of love, friendship, and hope. And this new faith is what carries Gamzee through to the end of the comic:

KARKAT: HE STARTED GETTING SO UNBELIEVABLY SELF SATISFIED AND PIOUS, LIKE WAY MORE THAN HE EVER WAS BEFORE. KARKAT: LIKE HE'S JUST SO COMPLETELY CONVINCED HE'S FOUND HIS CALLING, THAT THIS SESSION IS THE GATEWAY TO THE PROMISED LAND WHERE HE'LL FULFILL HIS DESTINY. KARKAT: HE'S SO CAUGHT UP IN HIS IDIOTIC SCHEMES HE COULDN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME ANYMORE. KARKAT: WHATEVER. AT LEAST HE STOPPED KILLING PEOPLE.

So where does that bring us WRT the fake god-tier ensemble? Well, god-tiering in general is kind of a metaphor for becoming an adult - SGRUB/SBURB sets out for its player a quest directly tied into their maturation into adults, and god-tiering is (normally) supposed to sit right at the end of that questline, a semi-permanent state achieved at the end of adolescence. Characters who DO manage to god-tier without having naturally reached that point in their questline, especially Vriska, Dave, and Rose, have struggles that deal directly with "growing up too fast" - Vriska with the expectation that she be a vicious murderer, Dave with having never addressed his trauma and abuse, and Rose with having missed out on a loving relationship with her mother because she insisted on being more mature than her.

Gamzee's relationship to Caliborn is that of a parent:

ARANEA: It is just as well that cheru8 parents a8andon their offspring. Raising such a child 8y the familial standards of any race would 8e a monumental challenge. ARANEA: Nevertheless, it would seem there were those who tried. ARANEA: Details in my research suggest our villain had a num8er of acolytes oper8ting in the shadows, preparing for his arrival.

Kurloz also directly states that Gamzee's role in their religion is to serve and mentor their young lord:

KURLOZ: I COME BEARING THEE FINAL JOLLY ACCOUTREMENT MY FAITHFUL INVERTEBROTHER KURLOZ: THY BARDLY REGALIA IS DONE AND FUCKING DUSTED BY THE SPECIAL STARS THEMSELVES KURLOZ: ON THIS DAY THE DARK CARNIVAL REJOICED AND SAID IT WAS MONEY KURLOZ: NOW BRING TO LIFE OUR WICKED RUSE WITH APLOMB MY NINJA KURLOZ: OUR LORD AWAITS YOUR SERVITUDE AND TUTELAGE AT ONCE

And even beyond the religion aspect, Gamzee would take this job mother fucking seriously...

... Because his own parent failed him. See, we tie it all back to the beginning! Gamzee putting together a shitty fake god tier outfit is because he wants to be a good parent to Caliborn, an adult figure he never had in his own life, and god tiering is symbolic of that. And I think the saddest part is, he still didn't really manage to do that... because, perpetuating the neglect he faced from his own lusus, he wound up locking the two in a room and leaving them alone - possibly out of exasperation.

ARANEA: We will pro8a8ly never know who these scurrilous conspir8tors were. 8ut it is evident that at some point the cheru8 was locked in a room, either out of exasper8tion, or for its own good, until it was old enough to enter the session.

Like, I feel kind of bad for Gamzee, y'know? Especially since, alongside Eridan, he's one of the trolls the fandom seems to understand the least, and his story is also one of being failed by his family, society, and friends. This winds up turning him towards the worst parts of himself - the religious fundamentalism, the casteism, the emotional isolation - and away from the good - the fact that he loved his mother fucking friends, enough to wish upon them eternal paradise.

[ratgrinders]

anyways ivy embra post because on god if she wont get the scenes in canon ill imagine it myself

Ivy and Oisin were friends in middle school. Oisin was still scrawny and hadn't had his growth spurt yet and Ivy hadn't yet gotten her braces taken off. They meet each other in some group project or club or whatever, the setting doesn't matter, but what happens is you have these two children with the inherent shittiness of middle schoolers who maybe haven't had the easiest time making friends because their passive aggressiveness is too aggressive, their barbs not hidden. And they act the same way with this new, kind of nerdy looking stranger they meet and find a kindred spirit. All of a sudden you're 12/13 years old with an outlet for all the shittalking about your classmates you want. You stick together like glue, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you two because they all fuckin suck anyway, and you finally found someone who isn't a wuss and can give as good as they take.

Oisin gets better at hiding it though, being raised by a long family line of evil dragons who have had to hide their connections in plain sight will do that to you. Ivy never lost that edge around her though.

The first day of classes Freshman Year at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, Oisin's met with this group of randos, they seem competent enough, the tall sad one seems nice enough if a bit of a pushover and the small one with the ponytail seems to have her entire academic career planned out already. She's intent on the name the High Five Heroes, it's a pun, get it? Because there's five of them. But Oisin won't go anywhere without his best friend. He pulls Ivy over, and Ivy isn't having the best luck finding a party (she insults them saying why would she want to join a party with any of these losers anyway, when they're put off by one pointed comment too many). Oisin tells the others they could do well with a fighter, that they're sticking together. The tall one, the gnome, and the kobold don't seem to mind (or don't care), but the halfling seems to have swallowed a lemon. "Well, there's six of us now which throws off the entire point of the name, but that's fine! I don't care!" (she's stubborn and doesn't want to change it).

Ivy and Kipperlilly clash CONSTANTLY. Kipperlilly's specific brand of Type A nerdiness and uptightness clashes horrifically with Ivy's specific attitude of not giving a fuck and chronic need to get under people's skin. And yet, Kipperlilly's barely concealed rage and passive aggression leads that same realization Ivy had back in middle school, of having finally found a kindred spirit. If there's two things Kipperlilly and Ivy have in common, it's their initial impression driving most people away, and their need to externalize this jealousy and bad feelings as hatred and disdain for others. They LOVE gossiping. Ivy's always down to be a hater.

Corsica Jones, the fighter teacher, sees Ivy come in on the first day of classes, bow in hand, and is immediately reminded of the sister she lost, who is still missing. Every time she trains Ivy on her stance, on basic hand-to-hand, she's reminded of the times she taught her sister the very same things. She's worried, because Ivy always seems so closed off and not very engaged, so full of rage. Unfortunately Corsica's attempts to reach out and forge a connection are stopped in their infancy when instead the barbarian teacher takes an interest in her. "Well, at least she has support from someone on the faculty, even if it isn't me."

It's Oisin that kills her. They always go off as a pair anyway, and Oisin may have been acting off recently but who is she to judge a bit of anger. But a quick stab to the back, one Choice later, and all Ivy can think about is rage.

After the Mountains of Chaos, Ivy's disdain becomes Venomous. Suddenly its not fun gossip but outright Hatred, its saying words maximized for cruelty directly to the person's face, because there's a kind of sick vindication in hurting the people who rejected you for so long, even if they may not deserve it. She and Kipperlilly don't get along anymore, snide comments and petty jabs devolving into screaming matches and insults. She proposes the name Rat Grinders with Oisin, because her stubbornness at refusing to change the name isn't endearing anymore, and there are six of them, did you oppose me joining the party that badly? It's a bit funny to see her so worked up over a stupid party name, that kind of earnest childish straightforwardness of the High Five Heroes makes her gag. The Rat Grinders is a funny inside joke, and Ivy is not comfortable engaging anymore without that layer of irony. For some reason, it doesn't feel good in the same way to hurt Kipperlilly like this, it just leave a knot of frustration that rankles in her stomach, because why does she care so much??

When Lucy dies, she doesn't remember much. She remembers the realization at the choice she'd made, and the rage that followed. Afterwards, though, was a deep all consuming bitterness. Of course she wasn't coming back, little miss goody two shoes never had any intentions of following through and left the rest of us with the fallout. She never expected otherwise, and she refuses to mourn someone who did not give enough of a shit about them to come back. She doesn't think about how Lucy helped her bleach her hair, how she braided Lucy's in return. How Lucy's birthday was coming up and she bought her new clothes, how that bag will stay unopened in her room now.

When she dies on the floor of her high school gymnasium, desperately defending every callous insult she's made with her dying breath, her last moments are spent locking eyes with her best friend, who is looking on in horror. She thinks back to a similar scenario, last year, when that same friend saw her dying and did nothing. She thinks back to them in seventh grade, trading childish insults without any real weight. And then she doesn't think anything at all.