#why don't they sell that shit at home

[ichorousisopod]

I wonder if my isopods are doing okay...

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Okay but can we have AFO attempting to comfort this very lonely (even if it's his fault) man?

he's not very good at it. wc: 910, using the "gran torino dated all for one, broke up with him, and was abruptly blindsided by his ex's decision to obliterate nana" set-up. tw for alcohol (plus, y'know, afo's yandere take on the relationship)

//

When Toshinori was packed off to the States, he boxed up his entire life inside Sorahiko’s apartment and stacked the cardboard cubes inside the closet. The sheets were laundered, the surfaces of his desk and dresser wiped clean; after Toshinori started wheeling his luggage to the car, Sorahiko peeked inside the spare bedroom and realized that Toshinori didn’t plan on living with him after Gran Torino gave the all-clear.

It hurt more than he expected, but really, Toshinori’s intentions made total sense.

All Might needed flexibility in movement, and privacy from nagging eyes. Sorahiko--too aware of what a hyperactive young man could dream of--would always feel like he needed to rein in the kid’s enthusiasm.

So it didn’t matter, the fact that Toshinori expected to move out the second he came back home to Japan.

Sorahiko still took the first opportunity to shrug on his wool-collared leather jacket, jam his feet into sturdy laced boots, and make a beeline for a local bar. The crowd was pathetic for this time of night, but for right now, he was more interested in the liquors offered than a companionable shoulder.

He tapped the chipped wood, ordered a glass of straight Suntory whiskey, and looked at the sole television mounted on the wall. The channel was set to baseball. Judging by the lack of attentive watchers, it was likely the bartender’s decision.

“No ice?” the bartender checked.

“None,” he said, and slid over his credit card to start a tab.

Gratifyingly, the bartender didn’t bother to start a conversation with Sorahiko. He left him alone, and so did the other patrons, who deemed his presence unremarkable (maybe even tolerable, since Sorahiko wasn’t going to be a rowdy customer) and returned to their quiet conversations, if they weren’t stewing in their own silences.

Sorahiko had never been a heavy drinker, and he couldn’t afford to social-drink at all with Toshinori living in his spare room. Not that he ever liked social-drinking either. He went once, with his U.A. colleagues, a few weeks before Nana died--it’d been loud, and Sorahiko hadn’t been able to maintain a good buzz.

He took his time with the whiskey, and let himself sink into his seat. Shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded, and attention drifting, Sorahiko failed to react in a timely manner as a huge presence loomed over his shoulder.

“Torino Sorahiko,” said his least favorite ex in the world.

Sorahiko attempted to glass the bastard, but Shigaraki Hisashi caught his wrist and eased the tumbler from his white-knuckled grasp. Things were still syrup-slow around him; the instinctive rush to injure Hisashi had subsided, and now Sorahiko struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

“You,” he said, faltering. “What are you doing here?”

Hisashi sniffed at the contents of the emptied glass, and gestured for a refill. The bartender hadn’t batted an eyelash at the violence, and in fact hurried to serve Hisashi two generous helpings of the alcohol.

“I’m here,” Hisashi said gently, “because I heard a little bird had flown the coop.”

There was a hand curved on the nape of Sorahiko’s neck, a possessive heat bleeding into his skin. This hand had killed Nana. It hadn’t even gotten bloody. He shuddered under its hold, the air in his lungs rattling as he exhaled.

“I won’t touch him. I promise you that.”

“You shouldn’t be able to,” said Sorahiko, hoarse. He’d made sure of it. The identity, the transcripts, the tuition payments--Sorahiko had scrubbed the records and his money as clean as he could get it. What connection existed between Toshinori and Nana? Between Toshinori and Sorahiko, even?

“Well, you make a tempting dare, but nevertheless. Here. For your nerves, dear.”

Sorahiko numbly accepted the refilled glass. He kept his eyes off Hisashi, focusing instead on the pale liquor, and twitched as Hisashi leaned in.

“Drink,” said Hisashi. “It’s on me.”

“I’m not going to have sex while drunk off my ass,” said Sorahiko.

“We’re celebrating! Or are we mourning? What do parents do, when faced with an empty nest, Sorahiko?” Hisashi lifted his own tumbler and clinked it against Sorahiko’s, encouragingly. “I’m here to offer you company. However you’d like.”

“I want you out of my life.”

“And abandon you to suffer a lonely future? Sorahiko, please. I’m the only one you have left, you know. The only one who cares where you go, what you do…” Hisashi drained his drink and set it down, reached over and firmly directed Sorahiko to turn his head and meet the gleaming crimson eyes, alight in their victory.

“For someone who killed my best friend,” Sorahiko seethed, “you’re awfully confident about your reception.”

“I know you,” said Hisashi, sly. “You like to think of yourself as an unyielding force of nature, Gran Torino, but every storm has its break. You’ll forgive your loved ones any transgressions. So take the drink, my dear, and rest easy.”

Sorahiko bared his teeth in a snarl, raised his drink to knock away the hand cradling his jaw, and had a measured sip. He wasn’t stupid enough to match Hisashi’s enthusiasm. When he set the glass (over two-thirds full) down, Hisashi was eyeing him with rueful affection.

He would never be strong enough to kill All for One on his own. Hopefully, Toshinori found the States to be a productive experience.

“If you’re not going to leave,” Sorahiko said, “then have the decency to buy some snacks.”

Hisashi smiled. “Whatever you need, my dear.”

[definitelyjunehomestuck]

if you feel like you need to make every other feature in the game incredibly tedious to incentivize people to explore, the problem isn't that those features are too easy to interact with, it's that your world is just horribly unengaging and has no inherent fun to it.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[beeseverywhen]

I just think that if someone's paying their rent and they are using the land you rent to them for its intended purpose (growing food and flowers for my households use) what does it fucking matter how they do it. Like please. What is the point. Chill the fuck out

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the handyman

pairing: neighbor! joel miller x f! reader

cws/tags: pure smut, DADDY KINK, oral m & f receiving, p in v (unprotected), an abundance of pet names, reader is under 21 but over 18 (for the plot), reader is kinda stupid, big dick joel, not beta read

summary: pwp honestly. basically a porn plot? idk joel comes over to reader's grandma's house to fix the smoke detector (which she broke) and he teaches her how to be a good girl.

a/n: don't ask why reader lives with her grandma, originally this was going to be longer and it was going to be more relevant

join my taglist!

wc: 2k

You open the front door to and see an unfamiliar man standing at your doorstep – 40 something, jeans and a t-shirt, progressively more handsome the longer you look at him. You size him up, trying to decide what his intentions are.

“Whatever it is you’re selling – I don’t wanna buy it," you say.

He opens his mouth, but you continue before he can say anything. “I don’t even live here anyway, and before you ask she’s not home, so you can’t talk to her.”

“I ain’t here to sell you shit.”

“Well, I don’t wanna sign anything either.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you to.”

“Then why are you here? I don’t have a lot of time before One Tree Hill comes back on, so make it quick.”

“I’m Joel. I live down the street. I’m here to fix your smoke detector.”

“Oh, in that case, come on in,” you say, changing your demeanor entirely as you realize that you really need to get in this man’s good graces.

“So, you’re ‘handyman’ grandma’s been talking about?” you ask, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“She’s been talking about me?”

“Yeah. She talks about you like you’re her boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“I dunno. I wasn’t really listening. I thought it might just be some dementia-induced delusion.”

“Well, she’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Good things?”

“Better than the things she says about all of your other family members.”

“You know what they say, ‘if you don’t want people to talk badly about you, then you shouldn’t ruin Christmas.’”

“Uh-huh,” he says, only half-listening as he approaches the scene of the crime - a broken smoke detector, now just wires and plastic, lays on the kitchen counter. He studies it for a minute, furrowing his brows. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”

“It just fell off the wall.” You shrug, acting nonchalant and hoping he doesn't notice your shifty eyes from across the kitchen.

“No way,” he says – not with curious incredulity, but knowing disapproval.

He turns to you and crosses his arms over his chest, and engages you in a short staring contest.

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Joel swipes the dish rag from the countertop and reveals the evidence you’d hidden under it like he's performing a magic trick.

He holds up the hammer, displaying it to you. He looks mostly disappointed in you - in an oddly paternal way, but also slightly amused, likely by how poorly you’d conducted this whole covert operation of yours. “Why’d you break it?”

“I didn’t break it.”

“Kid, I’m not an idiot. Just fess up, so we can fix it and move on.”

“Are you gonna tell on me?”

“You afraid of your meemaw’s wrath?” he teases.

“I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”

“Should she be?”

“I didn’t mean to break it. I just wanted it to stop beeping.”

“It’s supposed to beep.”

You give him a pathetic pout that you hope works. It doesn’t. It only makes his gaze harden.

“I’m sorry. It was just one cigarette, and I really, really didn’t want to get in trouble… so when it went off, I panicked and hit it with the hammer.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a piece of work, kid. Making me come out here on my lunch break-”

“-I’m sorry," you interrupt, "I won’t do it again, so just please, please don’t tell on me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I could offer you something… something to show my infinite remorse for my actions and my infinite gratitude to you for fixing the mess I made.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Okay. What’s your offer?”

His smirk makes you think you’re on the same page so you get down on your knees in front of him, but when you look up into his eyes, what stares back at you is complete bewilderment.

“Get up,” he says, offering you his hand.

“I thought…”

“I don’t think you were thinking,” he says condescendingly.

“You’ve gotta learn to listen to the thoughts up here,” he says, tapping you on your temple. “Not the ones down here.” His finger brushes against your clit.

The way he speaks to you only makes it worse, the throbbing, aching feeling between your legs. You can’t find a single thing to say that isn’t ‘please’ followed by some utterly depraved suggestion.

Joel turns back to his work, somehow unfazed by the interaction.

“Normally, I’d think this sounds a bit too chauvinistic to ask, but since you owe me, can you get me a beer from the garage?”

Oh fuck. Three strikes, you’re out.

“We don’t have any beer.”

“You sure about that? I just put a six pack in there last week.”

“Maybe my grandma drank them already…”

“Your grandmother said that Budweiser tastes like cat piss.”

“It does.”

“Yeah? And how would you know that? I thought you weren’t 21 yet. Who’s buying you alcohol?”

“I didn’t know they were yours.”

“Uh-huh, but I bet your grandma would’ve told you they were if you’d asked her. But she doesn’t know about your ‘habits’, does she?”

“No,” you admit weakly.

“Come here.”

You step towards him, and wait for him to give you an earful or to threaten to reveal your secrets.

“I’m reconsidering your little offer.”

Your face lights up at the opportunity to make things right, to expunge this from your record.

“So if I did that, we’d be cool, right?”

“Depends on how good you are, darlin’.”

For a second time that afternoon, you sink to your knees, but this time, Joel gives you the go-ahead. You try to balance the coyness you’ve seen women in the movies demonstrate with the eagerness you feel inside as you undo his belt.

With his jeans halfway down his legs, you place your palm over the bulge in his boxers and feel him twitch at your touch. When his cock is finally released from its confines, you try not to be too intimidated. Your confidence is falling but your arousal only rises.

You begin by wrapping your hand around him and stroking his length, setting a steady pace. Then, you tease the tip with kitten licks and hear his breath hitch when you flick your tongue across his slit.

There’s no way you can take him all the way down your throat – you’d probably bruise your esophagus. Still, you try, sputtering and letting saliva drip down your chin. You can’t help but feel a bit proud of yourself when he has to put his hand on the counter to steady himself.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says through heavy breaths.

You pull away, upset at what you perceive to be a failure. “You didn’t cum…”

“I almost did, baby girl, but I don’t want to yet.”

You feel a bit pathetic imagining how you must look from his perspective, with your teary eyes, begging him to let you go on.

“You wanna give me a good apology, right?” He nods slowly, looking into your eyes, prompting you to do the same.

“Then, I want you to come sit on the couch with me.”

He takes your hand and walks you to the living room, patronizing since the two rooms are connected. When Joel sits down on the couch, he pulls you into his lap.

“I was thinkin’ about what I said before – how you’re not using your head. You could be such a smart girl – a good girl - if only you could think with your brain. You just need a little bit of help.”

You can feel his hard cock poking through his boxers and rubbing against your pussy. It’s hard to resist the urge to roll your hips, just to get a bit of friction, a bit of relief.

His hand finds its way between your legs and he asks, “What’s gonna happen if I put my hand in your panties right now, baby? Are you gonna be wet?”

While you try to form a response that doesn’t make you sound too desperate, his fingers toy with your waistband. “Remember, baby, good girls are honest,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, I am… wet.”

“For me?” His hand meets your bare skin and finds that you are, indeed, dripping wet. “Did I do this to you?”

“Uh-huh.” You arch into his touch, shamelessly using his fingers for your own pleasure.

“If you want more, you have to be a good girl.”

With the promise of a reward, you follow his implied instructions and still your hips.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

He takes your word for it and begins rubbing circles on your clit. You could cum from that alone but he slips a finger inside you, curling it upward to meet that special spot.

Joel expects a response from you, but not the one he gets.

A single word: “Daddy…”

“Oh, baby. I get it now. Been needin’ daddy to take care of you.”

He’s right. You do need this. He can take care of you, you can be good for him. When he fucks you with his fingers, you swear you could fall in love with him.

But when he takes them away, you cry.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I wanna do something else. It’s gonna make you feel even better.”

Before you have a chance to think, your panties are on the floor and his head is between your thighs. You can feel his breath on your clit when he speaks. “I want you to be a good girl and cum on my face – can you do that?”

“Yes, daddy.” The word leaves your mouth more naturally than it probably should, it's almost instinctual.

Joel wastes no more time talking, knowing his tongue can convey much more when it runs along your folds, and his lips can elicit a better response when they suck lightly on your clit.

The only thing you have for him is moans accompanied by breathless chanting of “daddy, daddy, daddy.”

He hums into your core, an affirmative, a reminder that you are a good girl. You can do this.

You can cum for him. You will cum for him – there is nothing that can stop the euphoria that rushes through you. It’s the kind that makes your legs shake and your eyes roll back into your head.

Joel was right – the orgasm clears your mind. But the realization that the situation you’ve ended up in – naked on your grandmother’s couch with her middle-aged neighbor who is supposed to be fixing your mistake, not helping you make another - is a precarious one. Being a smart girl seems to be a double edged sword.

Euphemistically, speaking.

In truth, it’s Joel’s cock that’s fully-sheathed inside you. Pain and pleasure mix as he thrusts in and out of you. You swear he might split you open, but even if he quite literally tore you to pieces, you'd die happily.

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he tells you, “knew you’d be a good girl.”

And maybe it’s the praise, or maybe it’s his thumb on your clit, but you’re rapidly approaching a second orgasm. All you can do is hold onto Joel, dragging your nails down his back. He bites your neck in response, and hopefully he doesn’t intend for it be a deterrent, because it only serves to heighten your pleasure.

He slows his pace, but his hips slam into yours harder, filling the air with the sound of skin slapping against skin in a steady rhythm.

“Whose pussy is this?”

You can’t breathe when the weight of his cock knocks the wind out of you, so he stops, allowing you to answer.

“Yours, daddy!”

His lips on yours are your cue to cum – or so you hope because it happens regardless of your will.

He has the sense to pull out and let his release spill onto your stomach.

You sigh, relaxing into the couch. “I need a cigarette,” you say.

“Did you not learn anything from today?”

“Mm-mm,” you say grinning dumbly.

Caught up in a daze – absolutely enraptured by his need to have you – he made the mistake of fucking you stupid.

[bloomries]

it's me or ____!

includes  : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor.

summary  : asking them to choose between you and their favorite thing (lightheartedly).

warnings  : gn! reader. possessive! satan (could read a bit yandere, so be wary of that). name calling (in belphegor's).

LUCIFER

his classical music records

Your question was very out of nowhere, and Lucifer doubt you meant it seriously, still his heart dropped when you picked up one of his records and fiddled with it. He chuckles tensely, hands flexing by his side. "You already know the answer, why bother asking?"

You send him a glance, noticing his tense behavior. You look down at the record in your hand, deciding to tease him a little further. "Do I?" You pout, "Are you sure you don't love this piece of vinyl more?"

Lucifer wondered if you were the demon in that moment, as you toy with his beloved heart. When you finally cease your teasing, setting down the record where it belonged, he let out a breath of relief.

Then, with quick strides he walks over to where you are and takes you by the shoulders. "I apologize if it wasn't obvious before, but I should hope you know that I love you more." You smile, confirming you knew this, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He pulls back and clears his throat. "But I also do really love my records, so please don't scare me like that again..."

MAMMON

grimm

"I can't choose between the two loves of my life?? How do you expect me to choose?" He asks with a pout. You two had just woken up, not even out of bed, when you asked the demon this question. You weren't expecting this response, although you feel a little foolish to not expect this outcome.

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight." You say, rolling over so your back faces him. He lets out another whine, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck.

"Don't be upset," his hot breath tickles your neck. "Grimm lets me spoil ya, y'know. Whenever I buy somethin' I know ya like, and bring it home to ya and see that big ol' smile... How can I not like grimm when it makes such good things happens, hmm?" Well, Mammon is surely very charming, you'll give him that. You peek over at him and he's smiling that smile that has your stomach doing flips.

"Fine... No couch..." You pinch his cheek. "But if I ever ask that question again, the answer better be 'you, darling,' got it?"

"L- Loud and clear!"

LEVIATHAN

his merch collection

"H- Huh!?" Leviathan fell out of his seat at your sudden question. You chuckle quietly at his reddening face. It was a simple question of 'what do you like more, me or all your merch collection' and he's already gotten this flustered.

"Well, I- uhm, well..." He's stumbling over his words, looking around his room. He did really love his all the items he's collected throughout the years, but he also really loved you. Dread settles in his stomach when he realizes just how much he loves you because... is becoming a normie!? Why would he sell every last drop of merchandize for you? He'd give up videogames, anime, fantasy novels, all for you if you truly asked him too.

You watch as he spirals, mumbling to himself. You're a little worried now, poking at him cautiously. He doesn't react. "Uhm, Levi? It was just a joke, you don't have to think so seriously..." You say, before he's sitting back up, staring at you with wide, watery eyes. Shit, you almost felt a little guilty for asking him now.

"I... I love you... More... Yeah." He nods, his face on fire as he takes a nearby figurine and holds it close to his heart. You decide to leave, to let him come to terms with his newfound realization that he, Leviathan, who had sworn off any real connections, has indeed made a connection with someone so profound he'd do anything for them.

It'll take him a while to come to terms with this.

SATAN

enchanted books

"Don't be ridiculous, obviously I love you more than my enchanted books." He rolls his eyes at your question. Was it not obvious how madly in love he was with you? Did he need to be more outright and forthcoming with his affections?

"Yeah, but wouldn't you be sad without your books?" You ask, looking through his bookshelf. Satan's eyes follow your every move, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he sneaks up behind you, before wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, yes I would be, but life would be much more dull without you by my side." He confesses. "Unfortunately for both of us, I need you more than anything else now." He pulls away slightly, so you can turn around in his arms and give him a pointed look- what does he mean by 'unfortunately'? He can read you easily, and decides to explain. "I just mean I hope you don't plan on leaving anytime soon, I fear I might not be able to let you go."

Placing a light peck on your cheek, Satan pulls back to look into your gaze. "But don't go thinking you can throw away my books now, okay?" You stifle laugh, nodding.

"Wasn't planning on it."

ASMODEUS

new clothes

"I can't believe you would think- obviously I love you more!" Asmo scolds, huffing and puffing at your words. He's offended you would think he loves anything more than you! "Of course I do really enjoy new clothes, but they'd just be boring if I didn't have you to show them off to! or have you to help me accessorizes with, or-" You place your lips on his for a sweet kiss (mostly to stop him from lecturing you).

"Okay, I understand, 'm sorry for asking." Asmo blinks a few times, a little dazed by your kiss (he always is) before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh no, don't think that'll make me forget." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Do you realize how worried I am now, thinking that you don't feel loved enough?" He sighs dramatically, blowing some hair out of his face. "I think this calls for a date night." He's got a mischievous little twinkle in his eye. "Don't you think?"

"Oh my," So this is what he was getting all worked up for. "I agree, I think I need you to show me just how much you love me~" You coo, playing into his antics. He grins, pulling you close to him.

"Thought so," he hums, nuzzling into you. "I know just the place to go, too. Shall we get ready together?"

BEELZEBUB

burgers

"You... or burgers?" Beel asked, stopping midway to bite into the delicious, juicy burger he ordered. Beel gives you a sad look, and you instantly feel a kick to the gut. You regret asking, his little frown making your heart twist into knots.

"I-" You go to laugh it off, to tell him that you were only messing around, but he cuts in before you're able to.

"I love you more. Really." He finally takes a bite of his burger, which your grateful for, before he's taking your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "I know I'm not great at showing my feelings... But I'll try better from now on." He says, full of earnest. Oh, your heart is shattering. You lean across the table, cupping his cheeks and giving him a big kiss.

"No, I'm sorry Beel! I know you love me, I was just trying to be silly, 'm sorry I got you so worried!" He seems to relax a little at that- so you were just pranking him? He lets out a shaky breath of relief, that's good to know. Still...

"I see... Well, I will still try to show my feelings more."

BELPHEGOR

his pillow

"Don't be ridiculous," Belphegor huffs at your stupidity, rolling over in his mix of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. "What a stupid question." He shakes his head, "I knew you were dumb but geez..." He peeks a glance at you, before continuing. "Obviously those two things are the same."

You can't see his cheeky, shit-eating grin but you can feel it. You throw a pillow at him, exclaiming "I am not a pillow!" for the umpteenth time. He swats the pillow away, snickering to himself.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say." He snickers, cozying up in his bed, feeling his eyelids grow heavier. "Either way, you're my favorite so... don't get all huffy, 'kay?" Your cheeks grow a little warm at his sleepy confession, and you sneak a little closer to him.

"Belphi-" You let out a shriek as he pulls you into the bed with him, swiftly positioning you both so his head is resting atop of you. You groan, you should've seen this coming. "You brat, let me go."

"Sorry, but I plan on using my favorite pillow- I mean, human, to help me sleep, so quit your yapping, will you?"

[ms-demeanor]

Just watched large bastard deadlift the ass end of a riding lawnmower because he wanted to demonstrate that the fender wouldn't rip off if it was used to hoist the mower into the truck.

The guy who was selling the thing (a delightful 90-year-old named Ralph) looked at him and was like "well shit son, why don't you just carry it home? save us the trouble of rigging it up."

[sugarlywhispers]

Bakugou Katsuki is known for being a man with character, with a strong personality. A man that looks menacingly and fucking scary. Everybody knows that he isn't a man that you would want to have problems with –villains literally shit their pants every time the name Dynamight is pronounced. He is fucking terrifying when he gets mad and angry. Even his own hero colleagues and friends know that.

Some people thought that Katsuki needed a woman who was different from him. Like someone more easy going and friendly. Someone who denoted more brightness than him.

And you are exactly that. You two look so different sometimes that people don't understand how you two work things out. But what people don't know –but Katsuki does, perfectly well– is that inside you hides a person even more scary than Bakugou Katsuki could ever be.

And so there all his hero friends are, standing freeze and looking gobsmacked at how you angrily yell to a man at the restaurant all of you were about to leave. Katsuki doesn't know exactly why you are screaming so pissed off at that man, but he thinks that if you are that upset, it surely means that it is something bad. Which also means that the man probably deserves it. You know how to defend yourself, and Katsuki is fucking proud of that.

“Are you really not going to interfere?” Asks Kirishima, looking surprised and a little worried at the same time. Bakugou shakes his head smiling.

He completely loves when you show that side of yours; it is actually the very big thing he loves about you the most and one of the reasons he fell for you in the first place.

“But… I-I don't get it. What happened to our little princess?” Katsuki can't avoid laughing at Mina's words. They really don't know you the way Katsuki does.

“Was it something on the food?” Kaminari asks, kind of like hiding behind Todoroki, the latter watching the altercation with big surprised eyes.

“He wished that was the reason,” says Sero when he comes back from where you are standing, still yelling at the man. “He was selling information about us, and our whereabouts. Apparently, the idiot also took some pictures and was selling them too.”

Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest and grins. So that is why you are that pissed... You are defending him and his friends.

Fucking cute, is what you are.

All of them look at Bakugou dumbfounded. And him? Well, Katsuki looks fucking proud of you.

“Go home, guys. This may take a while,” he says, not taking his eyes out of your still yelling little form.

“Are you sure? Don’t you want us to stay and help you ease things down? She looks pretty… upset,” Deku says sincerely, even though he looks kind of afraid of you. HA. Not even fucking Pro Hero Number 1, Deku, is immune to your terrifying side.

Everyone is a little afraid, and Katsuki smiles proudly at that.

“Nah, I can handle it. I'll see you guys tomorrow.”

Everyone says their goodbyes leaving him standing there in silence, watching you proudly and with amusement.

It took almost half an hour later until you released all your anger in the form of words to the man. With one last not so pretty word to him, you turn around and walk to your waiting boyfriend.

Katsuki's smile is so freaking big, you think it may break the skin of his cheeks. “Finished already? I thought it would take longer than that…”

“Did you know what he was do-ing…” You start a bit heated, but his arms surrounding you by the waist and pulling you to his chest calms you down immediately.

Even though you don't quite finish the sentence, Katsuki already knows what you are talking about, “Yeah, Sero told us what happened.”

He rocks your bodies slightly from side to side, hands caressing your back in a comfort, soothing touch. You don't understand what or why he is doing it, but you aren't complaining either. You love being in his arms.

And Katsuki loves the way he can calm you down just with one touch from him –just as fast as he does when you hold him.

He hugs you tightly and then kisses your forehead, hanging his lips there for a moment.

You snort, a delicate amused breath that collides with his neck and makes his body tingle.

“What is this? A kiss to calm the beast?”

He chuckles, “It's a kiss that shows how much I love you.”

And that shows how proud he is that you are as scary as him. Or even more than him.

a.n; lol this is actually something that happened to me once.. i'm suuuuuuuuch a short tempered minion sometimes it even pisses me off LMAO and then i have the audacity to question why i have favs like bakugou and sanemi oops>.<

[shurisasthmaticgf]

oh baby he down bad: charles leclerc x black fem! reader

summary: three times when you realized you truly did have your boyfriend wrapped around your finger

warnings: crying, period mention, swearing

blog moved to @delewlew

author's note: this is the first charles fic i've written so please be kind...i hope you all enjoy it. i'm sick with covid and i was loopy on meds when i wrote this so i hope it makes sense 💀 comments and other feedback are welcome and appreciated!

whoisyn uploaded a story!

you laid in your bed curled into fetal position with your phone mere inches from your forehead. the room was dark but light enough to see half of your face as your eyes welled with tears. you rambled, "a few weeks ago when i was visiting new york i bought a bunch of takis and nerds clusters because they don't sell them over here in monaco and i went to go get a bag of both and i didn't know i ran out! i'm so upset i don't even want to settle for anything else." you wailed loudly, mixing in a few laughs at how ridiculous you probably looked but you had no shame as you hit post.

the entire day had been going pretty shit from the moment when you woke up and bled through your favorite pajamas to nearly passing out when you wanted to have a relaxing hot shower to make you feel better. now you were just laying in bed clinging to your body pillow that had lingering notes of your boyfriend's cologne. it was early in the night but your entire body felt like it was hit by a bus and you were one tylenol away from needing a stomach flush yet it didn't actually feel like it was helping. to make things worse, all you wanted was your boyfriend but he was supposed to be going out right after he got off of work.

you laid stiff in your bed in an obscure position because you found that was the only one that didn't make you feel worse. the door to your bedroom opened and your boyfriend entered wearing pajama pants and no shirt. you squinted through the dim light and mumbled, "babe? thought you were going out tonight? you had that thing." charles placed two bags of your favorite snacks onto your nightstand and responded, "i was but i found out through twitter that my girlfriend was crying at home." you turned your face away from him out of embarrassment because you were literally crying over chips and candy. he turned your chin back to him, "why didn't you call me, mon cœur?" you shrugged and reached for the bag of candy, "it wasn't that serious." he pulled you closer to him and you shifted positions so your head was against his chest. charles pressed a kiss to your forehead, "anything that bothers you is serious to me, darling. but, i am here and you have your snacks so we can watch your movie like we always do, yes?" you nodded and turned on Princess and The Frog which was one of your comfort movies since childhood.

whoisyn posted a story!

replies:

lilymhe WHP IS YOUE DEALER PLS 🙏

↳ whoisyn lemme ask charles

francisca.cgomes feel better bby <3

↳ whoisyn thank you so much ily ily ily ❤️

logansargeant i still have like 3 bags of hot cheetos and those nerds things for you from when you asked me to grab you some when i had a layover in new york

↳ whoisyn omg i forgot abt those! i'll get them next week if u bring em. ty ty.

alex_albon lily wanted me to ask you who your dealer is? she said you'd know what she meant

↳ whoisyn oh my bad pookie i forgot...but charles said he just has a stash of american snacks at his place for me. i'll bring her some next weekend tho dw ❤️

↳ alex_albon THANK YOU OMG I COULD KISS YOU RN - lily

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you cut through one of the alleyways out of street view once you noticed someone had been recording you as you walked through the streets of monaco. most of the time you managed to sneak through the city without being spotted but today you had to make a trip to the mall where a handful of people recognized you immediately. as someone who was never in the public eye and lived as a "regular" person you were still getting used to people recognizing you and following you around. time and time again you'd gone viral for your fan responses when they asked for pictures or autographs, usually a laugh and "why, i'm not the famous one?" you were genuine with your interactions and were known for helping fans get autographs or deliver fan letters to charles at grand prix weekends. although you enjoyed this aspect of his fanbase, sometimes it was too much and you just wanted to live in peace like you used to. so you'd learned every back road and sidewalk to your shared apartment for quick escapes.

the alleyway was quiet and away from the few people that were walking and talking beside you. just as you were to round a corner you heard a soft meow. stopping dead in your tracks you looked around confused to where the sound was coming from. there was silence then another meow, and another, and another until you realized a small orange cat a few meters away was the culprit. the tiny kitten was shaking and wet in some fluid you only hoped was water, but by the smell it was definitely sewage, pipe, or garbage juice. you wrinkled your nose and held the helpless fur ball in your palm, "shit...what the fuck do i do?" the kitten nibbled on your thumb and you stretched your finger away, "don't do that i don't want rabes or whatever cats can carry." you looked over your shoulder and sighed, "well i guess i have a cat now... let's go."

once back in your apartment you put the small kitten in your bathroom tub on an old rag. the small animal meowed and mewed the entire time you rinsed it off with the only soap you had that was safe according to google. instead of drying it's fur with your blowdryer you just towel dried it which he continued meowing. you'd never had a cat and didn't know what it meant when kittens meowed so you just started rambling, "well that's so interesting you feel that way because i literally said the same thing too! like i don't even know why that would make sense because when you really think about it they always want you to think that but in reality the truth is the complete opposite of what they want you to believe." the orange kitten looked at you with its head turned to the side and you sighed, "i don't know what you want from me man i just met you." the cat meowed louder and you mumbled, "that was definitely a cuss word but i'll let it slide."

an hour later you had given the kitten a small amount of some canned tuna and it fell asleep curled into your neck against the towel you kept it wrapped in.

charles entered your apartment with his eyes on his phone as he called out, "i'm home- oh." he usually expected you to be in your room so when you were out in the main room on the sofa he was startled. you sipped from the smoothie you'd gotten from the fridge and looked up from the book you were reading, "hi baby." charles stared at the kitten on your chest then back at you, "hi beautiful." he waited for you to say anything about the new addition and when you didn't he prompted, "what do you have there?" you looked at your hand and held up the cup, "a smoothie." you took a long sip and the straw crackled loudly, "oh yeah i figured out how to make that one hailey bieber has at that overpriced place in LA. it's actually really good i see why people lost their shit over it."

your boyfriend nodded slowly and pointed to the kitten on you, "my love, please tell me why is there a cat on you." for a minute you looked at him as if he was making it up but then you realized you never got around to actually texting him what happened. he waited for you to explain because the story had to be good if you, notorious anti-pet owner, came home with a cat and let it sleep on you.

you told him while looking at the kitten, "yeah, you're a daddy now." charles replied with too much ease, "i know that you call me that but that cat does not." you looked up with an exasperated glare, "can you be serious for one minute please." charles chuckled and apologized, "okay okay you go, tell me why i am now both of your daddys." you raised your hand to throw one of the clean rags you hadn't used at him which he shielded his face from, "okay i'm sorry go ahead." as you retold the entire thing charles just stood there with a fond smile, finding the whole ordeal quite amusing. at the end of your story he reached for the kitten and pulled back his hand, "why is it slippery?" you answered, "i put coconut oil on it so it didn't get ashy." charles started laughing once more and you smacked his shoulder lightly, "hey i never had a pet besides a fish okay! i'm trying my best here." charles pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your lips, "and you're going to be a great cat mom too, you've already done a good thing."

whoisyn

liked by charles_leclerc, f1, and 44,304 others

whoisyn happy birthday son to my son chisme octavius nortorious C.A.T. l/n-leclerc

view all 12, 079 comments

username1 WE THOUGHT IT WAS JUST CHISME LMAO WHY WOULD YOU NAME HIM ALL THAT-

whoisyn chisme bc if you pretend to gossip he'll immediately listen and start spilling tea too. octavius because charles said it sounded regal, and notorious C.A.T. for the culture.

↳ username2 LMAO YALL KINDA ATE NGL

charles_leclerc my two loves ❤️

username2 i need limited edition chisme x ferrari merch @/scuderiaferrari

↳ scuderiaferrari 👀

olliebearman i miss my brother

↳ whoisyn he misses you too <3

username3 i remember when y/n first found him, i can't believe he's a year old already :( he's so big now

username4 i thought charles said he wanted a dog

↳ whoisyn well i didn't find a dog, i found a cat. so we have a cat.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the video had circulated on twitter only a few hours after it dropped and you'd noticed your name trending on the internet. after making the mistake of checking why you were trending once, you'd never really paid much attention to it again. the first time many people were shaming you for dating your boyfriend and making jabs at your physical appearance. rather quickly you realized it would be better to just keep up with silly memes your friends sent to you opposed to stalking every corner of the internet to see what people were saying about you.

this specific instance was charles in an interview and he'd mentioned you briefly while playing a game of this or that:

"do you prefer a weekend getaway to the coast for a snorkeling trip or the mountains for a skiing adventure?" the interviewer quizzed charles on his current vacation preferences. the driver asked, "is this by myself or with people?" the interviewer answered with a small smirk, "you and one other person- can be anyone, best friend, sibling, girlfriend, mom, etc." charles let out a laugh and knew what the interviewer was getting at and chose to went along with it for fan service. he thought for a moment then answered, "i think the snorkeling trip, my girlfriend likes this kind of thing with the fish, sea animals, and the diving in the water. that and she is better of a skier and snowboarder than me so..." out of the frame the interviewer laughed and joked, "a little mermaid moment, i love it."

you looked at the video and laughed when you noticed the small hello kitty band aid on his hand. earlier that week he'd gone with you out to the sea and you'd found a small cove to swim around in. somewhere along the way back charles had cut his hand on a rock and you'd put a little band aid on it from the only stash you had, and he had no complaints over the pink cartoon design. he found it cute and whenever he looked at it he was reminded of you.

whoisyn

liked by charles_leclerc, sanrio, and 53, 432 others

whoisyn oh, he look so cute wrapped around my finger 🎀

view all 12,855 comments

username1 SLIDES 5 AND 6-

alex_albon drop the link for the shirt

username2 CHARLES GOT THAT SHIT AWNNNN 😤😤😤

↳ comment pinned by creator

hellokitty we love to see this 🤩

↳ whoisyn omg pls sponsor me 😍

↳ sanrio check DM! ❤️

f1 i'd play mermaids there

↳ whoisyn we did 🤭

↳ landonorris WITHOUT ME? 😞

↳ danielricciardo X 2 💔

↳ georgerussell X 3 😪

↳ whoisyn my bad...next time we'll send a text

username3 oh baby he's down bad

username4 no way in hell she got this man in hello kitty pants after a long day of playing mermaids 💀

↳ username5 just say ur a loser who doesn't know how to have fun

comment has been liked by creator

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

the end.

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[blueicequeen19]

Something Borrowed

Warnings: non-con, forced marriage, creampie, cheating, unhinged Rafe

I lean back in the chair, my eyes locked on the swells of her ass as she screams at her father while he signs the contract. She probably thinks her life is ending with the swipe of a pen but I'll prove to her that it is just beginning.

The moment I saw her was enough for me. The fact that she was born with a backbone and an educated smart mouth were just added bonuses. I didn't want to treat her like a piece of ass but that's all I could think about currently.

I adjusted myself as my cock hardened painfully in my slacks. I was half tempted to check if she was wearing any underwear under her skin tight pencil skirt when the pen dropped on the desk and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room.

"Done." Her father said, his eyes staying on the desk.

"This is not done." She shouted, snatching up the contract as I stood. She'd meant to rip it in half but I grabbed her wrists before she could, pinning her against the desk with my body. Fire and disobedience radiated off her as she glared up at me like I didn't have six inches on her even in her heels.

"Rip it up if it makes you feel better." I leaned in close, making her arch her neck as her nostrils flared. "But nothing is stopping me from making you my wife." An adorable growl met my ears and I couldn't help but smile smugly.

"I'll never marry you." She spat, rolling her lip in disgust. I shifted so my erection was pressing firmly against her stomach. I watched the realization dawn on her and how her eyes tracked down my body before she released the contract to shove at my chest.

"Ugh!"

"Pack your shit or I'll do it for you." She opened her mouth to argue but I held up a finger, silencing her. "And if I have to do it for you, I'm taking the bare minimum and you'll ride in the trunk." I glance back at her father but his eyes are still downcast, his shoulders hung in defeat. I couldn't leave without her knowing that he'd sold her off. I didn't want to be the only one she hated.

"You should know that you did your father a great service." Her brows raise just as her fathers head does, his eyes wide with fear. "Thank your lovely daughter for paying back your debt. Why sell a couple vacation homes when you could just offer up your daughter?"

"You said--!"

"Are you--!"

I lead her from the room just as the shouting starts. I motion for someone to get her stuff as the office door slammed shut. I let her call me every name in the book while attempting to hit me as I navigated us to the car waiting out front.

"I don't want this!" She cried, shoving me again in the chest.

"Too bad."

"Are you so desperate for a wife that you'd blackmail someone into getting one? Is your dick that small?" I barked out a laugh as I pushed her back against the car. I seized her wrist in my hand and made her feel how hard I was. She resisted, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Would you like to drop to your knees right now and find out how small I am?" Her nostrils flared as her hand tightened on my shaft. I flexed the muscle and she jerked away, an adorable blush heating her cheeks.

"Do you think I've had any complaints about my size?" I ask, licking my lips as she avoids looking between us. I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"I bought you because I wanted you. I could've had anyone on the island but I chose you."

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should. Your family would be bankrupt if not for me. I could’ve liquidated everything, leaving you and your mother in the gutter with your loser father but I didn’t.” Her eyes widen as she sniffles.

“Maybe you should be the one thanking me. With your lips around my cock.” I lick my lips, loving the way her eyes track the movement before she blinks, ruining the moment with a shake of her head.

“If you think I’d ever let you—.”

“Let me? Baby, I own you now.” I fist her hair and slam my mouth down on hers. A startled noise leaves her, allowing me to slip my tongue inside. I kiss her like I’ll die if I don’t. All but fucking her with my tongue. She tries to keep up, humming against my lips when a slap suddenly meets my cheek. I laugh, breaking the kiss to see her panting and fuming, her lips wet and swollen from our kiss.

“Trunk it is.”

The weeks before the wedding are nothing short of amusing. Her temper tantrums seem to be the most exciting part of my day even if they cost me thousands of dollars. I’ve decided to surprise her with her wedding dress since she’s destroyed the last two I’ve given to her. Not to mention flushing an engagement ring that cost enough to buy a house.

Now the wedding day has come and it’s taken more threats to ensure she gets down the aisle than not. Especially since she revealed she had a Pogue boyfriend that she would not give up. I warned her what would happen if I ever saw them together.

The very thought has me seeing red and I’m taking off down the hallway to her en-suite before I’ve had time to reconsider. The door is locked but I quickly slip in a master key. I can tell immediately that something is up. The room is empty and quiet. I move past the bed and to the bathroom as my heart starts to race.

She’s fled. I’m sure of it.

A whimpered moan from the other side of the door has my body flooding with rage and I’ve thrown the door open without a second thought. They both jump away from one another but it’s the white lingerie that she’s wearing that makes me snap. That was supposed to be for my eyes only. And now he’s had his filthy hands on her.

“Oh no.” The words barely leave her lips before I’ve grabbed Maybank but his shitty cutoff and landed a fist to his gut. I hit him again and again. Unable to squash the memory of his mouth on hers even as she hits me. I finally stand, blood on my sleeve as I guide him by his hair back towards the bedroom.

“Damnit, Rafe, stop!”

I shrug her off as I yank the handcuffs from my pocket that I was planning to save for our honeymoon. Her eyes widen as I secure one of Maybank’s wrists to the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing!?” She cries as I start to strip out of my tux and down to my boxers. I don’t even care anymore as I secure my tie as a gag around Maybank’s mouth. He’s bleeding and dazed but he’ll quickly come around. I don’t want him to miss a thing.

“Wake up.” I smack him across the face and he groans, blinking at up at us.

“Rafe, stop! What are you doing?”

“Giving you your something borrowed.” I snarl, fisting her hair and shoving her to the carpet on her knees. My cock grows painfully hard in record time as she struggles, her doe eyes pleading up at me. Her hair and makeup are ruined and I’m past the point of caring if her cheeks are streaked with makeup in our wedding pictures. This is her fault.

“Open up.” I free my cock, letting it spring free in her face as she fights my hold.

“I’ll bite it off.” She spats.

“Do it and they’ll never find his body.” I warn, drawing her closer by the hold I have on her hair and pressing the tip to her lips. JJ grunts angrily behind his gag, yanking on the cuffs.

“I’m going to ruin your life for this.”

“Looking forward to it Mrs Cameron. Now suck.” I force my way into her hot mouth, groaning immediately as she takes me deep. Her throat contracts as she gags but she doesn’t stop or resist as I begin to fuck her face. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt and for some reason Maybank’s anger only makes me enjoy it more.

“She’s pretty good at this.” I say allowed, not taking my eyes off her as Maybank yanks harder on the cuffs. I’m on the verge of cumming too soon already as my attention lock on the swells of her tits, bouncing with every rough thrust down her throat.

Just as I’m about to unload.. I pull free to immediately wrap my hand around her throat. She’s an absolute mess but she’s mine.

“What—.” I force two fingers down her throat to cut her off.

“If you want to act like a slut then I’ll treat you like one.” Her eyes narrow even as she gags, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth.

“If you want to spread your legs for someone then by all means, spread them.” I pull my fingers free and shove her onto her stomach on the carpet. The crotchless thong she’s wearing gives me a perfect view of her pretty pussy and the arousal that’s coating her thighs. I’m immediately even more pissed off that the fucking Pogue was so close to what’s mine.

“Goddamn.” I pull her hips back and line myself up with her entrance.

“Rafe.. wait..” I slam forward to the hilt, earning a cry of outrage from her and the Pogue.

“Face down.” I shove her head to the carpet as I pull half way out only to shove back in again. She’s so wet that I glide in and out with ease but she’s still so fucking tight. Feeling the way she opens up only to choke the life from my cock might be my new favorite thing.

“Fuck, baby.” I grunt, not slowing my pace as her moans fill the air. My balls are drawn up tight and I don’t stop myself from releasing inside her wet cunt, not caring if she gets hers or not. She glances at me over her shoulder with a look of pure sexual frustration. I’d think she was on the verge of begging until Maybank yanks against his restraints, attempting to kick me.

“One more thing.” I sink two fingers back into her pussy, showing my cum in deep as she sighs in relief before yanking back out and smearing my cum across Maybank’s face. I step on his knee as I stand, making him thrash in pain and anger.

“You wanted my sloppy seconds so bad so there you go, fucker.” I yank back on his hair, making him look at me. “Come near my wife again and I’ll feed you to a gator.” I snarl, rearing back and decking him one last time for good measure. I turn just as my pretty little wife makes a beeline for the door despite being in lingerie.

“Nope.” I snag her around the waist and toss her on the bed before turning towards the garment bag on the back of the door.

“You’re insane!” She shouts, looking even more delicious when she looks freshly fucked.

“No, insane would be making you walk down that aisle in your crotchless panties with my cum running down your legs. I’m at least letting you put the dress on.” I toss it at her but she doesn’t move, glaring at me under her matted lashes.

“I’m not going out there like this. I’m a mess.”

“You had your chance to do this the easy, clean way.”

“My father will kill you.”

“And what will he do to you if he finds out you’re fooling around with a Pogue on the side?” Her eyes widen for a moment because narrowing back into her perfect scowl.

“You embarrassed me so I’m embarrassing you. Now get dressed. I want to be able to look back on our wedding pictures and see how beautiful you look after being fucked for the first time by your husband.”

[buggieboyofficial]

I made a reverse au for @void-dude 's Shapes and Pines au!

Their au makes me so happy! :))) I thought it would be interesting to see them reversed. (I wrote a LOT on here so I'm going to transcribe it all at the end of this)

Honestly this was supposed to be a joke and then I kept drawing and thinking about them. This admittedly got out of hand.

To make up for it, have some Tad Strange and Bill!

Tad: Ow.

Bill: Look, Isn't it beautiful?

Tad: Bill, I shouldn't be seeing anything but a doctor right now.

(Full transcription under the 'keep reading')

1969 Tad Strange is 15 years old. (He looks old for his age and uses this to his advantage) He lost his eye in a firework accident when he was 12 and now, he has a fear of fire and a glass eye. Billium is 12 years old and is about to make a really bad mistake. His eye was missing at birth and can't get a glass eye without surgery. Their parents work together and Bills Parents asked Tad to babysit Billium when they are away to help with his bullies. They become friends. (Mini Comic 1) Billium- "You don't GET IT TAD!" Billium- "I was BORN a freak." Billium- "I can't pretend to be normal because I don't know HOW." Tad- "… Huh."

2012 Bill is a Biologist After his family home burned down, killing both Tad and Bill's families, Bill became interested (obsessed) with necromancy. He started with studying human biology, but his work hit a wall and he became desperate for more knowledge. He summoned Sixer for answers after searching for years trying to find a being that could help him. Who knew that the demon of knowledge could be so susceptible to flattery? It's probably because Sixer doesn't get summoned very often.

(Mini Comic 2)

Dr. Bill: Looking extra dexterous today Sixer~

Sixer: *AHEM* Thank you Dr. Bill, let's get back to work now.

Tad is a Car Salesmen He lives in his tow truck just in case he gets chased out of town for selling shitty cars at an increased price. He had lived alone for a long time before Bill tracked him down 4 months ago. Bill apologized and said some cryptic shit about fixing everything. Then he looked around at Tad's tow truck/home and left a paper with weird circles on it and an incantation. He said "Use this to get a better place, you'll need one soon" Then he left. Tad didn't summon Ley until 2 months ago when he almost got shot selling a fake Lamborghini to a gang leader. He was then chased out of town again.

1 Trillion years ago, Sixer and Ley were in the 2nd dimention.

Sixer created a safe(ish) portal to the 3rd dimension which he was able to do because he had one eye that saw in 3d and one that was in 2d.

Ley could see it out of the corner of his eye like Tad did, but doesn't like to look at the world beyond. He accidentally broke the portal Sixer made while trying to use it and now everyone is gone.

(Mini Comic 3)

Sixer: "Look Ley, a Shooting Star!"

Ley: "WTF is a star and why is it shooting at us?!"

[ventique18]

Shop owner 🌸 and 🐉 who comes by everyday to get something without fail. The first time you met was uneventful; just one normal customer amongst the many-- if a huge guy dressed in expensive-looking tailored outfits was the norm. You called him "sir" the first couple of times, but after a few pleasant conversations and comfortable laughter, you began to affectionately greet him with a "Hello, stranger." He flushed at that and immediately introduced himself because he always forgot to do so before. You laughed and proposed that "stranger" be your exclusive nickname for him, to which he reluctantly agreed. He eventually grew to like it.

If you sell flowers, he'll rotate between bouquets and mention that they're for his grandmother. If you're a pharmacist, he'll pick up vitamins and maintenance meds daily. You ask why he just doesn't get a bottle once a month, so he'll share that his father's a bit forgetful so he personally hands it to him daily. It doesn't really answer why he needs to buy exactly one tablet each, once a day-- but you're not one to press people.

If you sell...rice, he's basically providing 90% of your income by picking up several kilos every day. You ask if he's running an orphanage with how much he needs, but he just laughs and spills that he has growing brothers and they both eat like hungry crocodiles.

Honestly, you quickly catch on that he just likes talking to you. You don't really see him around outside of his appearances to buy something, so it must take a bit of effort to travel from wherever he comes from. So one day you jokingly mention, "You should just move next to me if my wares are that integral to your life. God knows we need more neighbors here besides retired old ladies and their noisy grandkids ringing my doorbell for shits and giggles."

"I wish you would move into my house."

"Sorry, what was that? The neighbor's music is a bit loud."

He smiles a polite "nothing" before bidding you farewell for the day. A week passes by and he doesn't come again. You wonder if what you said was off-putting to him, but you settle with the more positive thought that he must have a lot going on in his private life. You find yourself hoping he'd pass by again so you could apologize if your joke offended him in any way. Odd as your relationship is, you do think of him as a friend.

So when one day you're walking home from having visited the groceries, your surprise is immeasurable as you stroll by Ms. Betsy's house. Because instead of the cranky auntie who liked to yell at kids and hiss at visiting stray cats, there now stands a guy. A huge guy with equally huge shears shaping the bushes around shrubs of roses that you swear Ms. Betsy never had. A guy that you know very well.

You do remember that the auntie used to like droning about how she'd sell that house and fly to a different country as soon as the opportunity arises, but...

"Hello, stranger..?" You greet with an equal amount of hesitation, confusion, and relief.

He turns. You swear your stomach exploded into a fit of butterflies when a mischievous smile plays on his lips.

"Why, hello... neighbor. You were not joking when you mentioned the children who enjoy ringing doorbells."

You laugh, "Did I mention shopkeepers who ring their neighbor's doorbells yet?"

"That," he replies as he begins sauntering back to his house, "I do not mind." When his hand reaches the door knob, he looks back to you with a grin, "Would you like a cup of tea? You can tell me more about this mysterious shopkeeper over a tray of honey biscuits."

[chrisbesitos]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ballerina & dealer. 🌟

( warnings: nsfw, drugs.

( synopsis: you meet chris at a party and he fucks you in your ballet costumes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ꒰͡⠀🩰 𝅄 💸⠀͡꒱

You didn't want to go out tonight. You feel tired before the classes and the ballet training, it was a hard day, but your friends said you'll feel better if you drink a bit and dance. But you're still in your ballet costumes, but it wasn't a problem, it wasn't a big party.

After a couple drinks, your mind wasn't thinking straight. You dance a bit, but your feet hurt from the training earlier, so you leave the "dance floor" and sit on a couch. Taking a few sips of your drink, you stared at a boy who was sitting on the couch in front of you. He was selling some things, but his eyes didn't leave you. Deep blue — and red — eyes staring at your soul, you don't know anymore if it is the drink making you imagine things or he's really smirking at you.

He lifted himself after a while staring at you, taking a few steps until you. Raising your head, you look at him as he sat by your side.

"You know you look like a doll wearing that bow?" He asked pointing at your pink bow in your hair, your lips leaning upward in a small smile, slowly shaking your head.

"Do you think I look like a doll?" You asked giggling, he nodded quickly. "You're Chris, right?"

"Yeah, you're a friend of my brother, don't you?" You nodded.

You met Nick at a party you went with some friends, he's a nice guy and told you about his brothers, one of them is Chris, the guy sitting with you now. You know he's a dealer, your friends have bought with him at the last party. but you never talked with him before. In reality, you thought Chris didn't know you existed, well, not until now.

Chris is a really nice guy, you chat for a whole hour. He flirted with you, for a moment you thought he didn't know about you, but he said he's been looking at you at parties since he saw a picture of you on Nick’s Instagram. He didn't want your Instagram, he wanted to talk with you personally. Chris was just waiting for the perfect opportunity and he could resist when he saw you in your ballet costumes.

The house was beginning to get empty, your friends left, but say you would uber until home. You didn't want to leave, because you wanted to keep talking with Chris. Normally, you don't feel too comfortable around people you don't know, but something hits different with Chris. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Eventually, the party host knocked them out. They leave laughing, Chris moves you towards his car. Your friends would say you shouldn't go to the car of someone you don't know, but you could fight against his eyes. His perfect blue eyes. So, you sat in the passenger, rubbing your own arms, because of the cold of the night.

“Better now?” He asked when he turned the heater on, you nodded. He grabbed a black wallet from his pocket, Chris took a joint and put it between his red and plump lips. “Shit.” He said, he was trying to find his lighter. You chuckled and reached for your own lighter on your purse. It was pink with a bow glued.

“May I. . .?” You said, referring to his joint. He nodded, so you light his roll. Chris inhaled deeply, letting out the smoke. “May I have a hit?”

“Have you smoked before?”

“Why do you think I have a lighter?” You rolled your eyes, grinning lightly. You tried to catch the joint, but Chris didn't let you grab it. “Come on, Chris. Don't be so selfish.” You tease.

Chris extended the joint in the direction of your mouth, he put it between your lips, but he kept holding. You took a deep hit, Chris removed the joint from your mouth and pressed his lips against yours. You let the smoke out in Chris’ mouth, your hands swiping slowly along his shoulders while you kiss him.

“Damn, I was wanting this the whole night, you had no idea.” He said, still against your lips. He grabbed your waist, holding hard, his fingers squeezing your skin. “You had no idea how hard it is to see you in that collant, doll. Lookin’ so hot.”

“Do you think?” You asked, even though you were kissing Chris in his car in the middle of the night, you were still shy and couldn't believe a guy like Chris wanted you.

“Of course, ma.” He said simply, taking another hit from his joint. You kneeled on the seat and stretched your body in his direction, his hungry eyes staring at your curvy body.

The collant squeezing your tits, your waist marked by the fabric of the collant. But your delicate cardigan was covering them, so Chris slowly tugged the sleeves down, exposing your arms and your breast. He leaning himself to kiss your collarbone, his warm lips pressed against your skin, you throw your head back.

“You're so pretty, doll. So, so pretty.” He whispered, you moaned when he sunk his teeth on your skin. “I don't wanna fuck you here, you can handle it until we got at my place?”

“Yes, but hurry, please.” You whined, you already could feel the wetness in your panties, your pussy pulsating, craving for his dick.

Didn't take too much for you to get to his place, he took you out of the car and carried you to his room. Kissing you the whole way, he couldn't take his hands out of you. Chris threw you on his bed, he put himself on top of you, smirking at your despair. A visible bulge on his jeans, craving for being inside of you, to feel you.

“Please, don't make me wait any longer.” You cried out.

Chris tugged your collant down, revealing your boobs, Chris’ mouth salivated craving for having them in his mouth. You followed his eyes as he tugged your collant out of your body, then he started to tug down your pantyhose. He kissed the skin of your thighs, sunk his teeth on the skin, sucking hard until leave a red mark on your soft skin. You whined, biting your underlip, your uneven breathing revealing your messy state.

“You're so despair, don't you?” Chris asked, kissing your skin close to your wet pussy still covered by the pink lace panties. “So wet f’ me, doll.” He pressed his lips on your pussy, you melted with the touch of his lips.

Chris slowly put your panties aside, he licked your juice hungrily. Your moans were like music for him, he was eating you out with his tongue, sucking your like he was sucking a fuckin’ lollipop. His nose rubbing your clit, you couldn't handle it, you could come only by the touch of his tongue.

“Chris, please!” You whimpered, raising your back as he stuck his tongue inside your hole. “Chris!”

“So, so needy. What do ya’ need it from me, doll?”

“I need you inside me, please. I need it now.”

Chris unbuckled his belt quickly, his cock was craving to be inside of you. He tugged his pants out with his underwear, Chris is so big and you moaned just to look at him. He kissed your chin, then your cheek and then your lips, he massaged your clit with his finger before he put himself inside of you.

“I'll be gentle with you, ‘kay? Tell me if you want to stop.” He whispered, his lips pressed against your forehead. You nodded, your eyes closed just waiting for him.

So, Chris slowly slipped inside your wet hole, you widened your eyes at the first moment, he reached for a negative reaction, but you just bit your lip and nodded to him. You wanted him to keep going, to push his dick on you.

Tears formed in your eyes, you moaned loudly Chris name as he pushed himself on your pussy. His hands firmly holding your waist, his eyes didn't leave yours, he wanted to see your face while he was giving you pleasure.

“Mpmmm, I'm close!” You screamed, Chris turned his pushes faster. The bed was hitting the walls, making a loud noise mixing with the noise of your moans.

“You're so tight, doll. So good around my dick.” He moaned.

Didn't take too much for you to raise your back and roll your eyes, you couldn't even warn Chris, he felt your juice on his cock. He pushed a couple more until he came inside of you, his body relaxed against your body, breathing hard. He kissed your breast, massaging your waist.

“You're so good, doll. Did I make you feel good?” He asked, staring at your eyes. Your lips leaning upward, you nodded.

“Yeah, you make me feel so good, baby." You giggled, swiping your fingers on his back. His head lay on your chest, smirking at you. "Can we smoke again? I like to smoke after sex."

"Whatever you want, doll."

i'm still trying to write a good smut, sorry :b

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @strnlxlqve @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris

taglist | masterlist

[tremendouscreationperson]

Part 2 of this

Next part here

Stan hadn't been able to help it. He had asked for your address to keep in touch.

He was able to now.

Able to send and receive letters. There had been a few instances when he was on the road that he dialed your number and your ma or pa answered, he had pretended to be a wrong number for them.

He was too chicken to talk to Ford why did he think he could talk to you?

But letters were different.

He could do letters.

You'd explained how you moved to California for college and loved the area so much you decided to stay. He had known you wanted to go to college but the three of you had always said you'd stay near New Jersey.

He wished so much that he kept in touch but his life was shit. He made things shit. He was shit.

His dad had been right.

He wasn't even worth turning up to a funeral for.

Stan paused mid sentence. Maybe he shouldn't be exchanging letters with you, maybe he should just stay away.

But a letter couldn't hurt.

He wouldn't have to change his voice or wear gloves or pretend he had smarts.

He could relax.

If something seemed off in the letter he could restart it.

And so the correspondence continued.

~~

It took a year and a half before you suggested coming down to see Mr Mystery himself.

Ford explained that his Uni grant had stopped so he was relying on good ol' fashioned tours of his labs to make money, only the real science didn't interest the resistance so he had to be creative.

You were sure he bored his patrons to death by explaining the rays and dials and tubing he had before coming up with the idea to sell to his clientele.

If only Stan was here. He'd be able to come up with good monsters and ghouls, just like in school.

You were able to find some sketches he gifted you (from a comic he was determined to publish) to send in your letter. Hopefully Ford could use them for ideas. It was a little bittersweet to part with them but ultimately it was for the greater good and you could always ask for them back.

So, now, here you were merely proposing a meet up but it felt... Well it felt wrong? Yeah, Ford and yourself were mates but Stanley was always the glue that kept you together.

Despite the mixed emotions you pushed on and signed your name before shoving it into an envelope and sending it off.

~~

The journey to 'Gravity Falls' - brilliant name - was not awful.

It took a solid 6 hours of driving but you knew it would be worth it. Knew it had to be done.

You would keep your friendship with Ford alive for Stan. You'd be the honorary sibling.

Once you were in Oregon you pulled up the map he had sent and followed the instructions he scratched onto it. 'Don't turn by the Horse Scarecrow go further to the Pig', 'There's a big boulder by the town sign be careful, I swear it moves', 'left by the tree that looks like Dolly'.

They were odd instructions but they were perfect. The town was definitely unique.

It was 9 when you finally made it to the 'Mystery Shack' and you had to admit it was cute. There were homemade arrows pointing in all directions and a copious amount of question marks dotted about.

The sign on the door read "closed" but you could see at the back there were lights on.

Climbing out of your car you twaddled over to the back door, rucksack slung on your shoulder, the soft sounds of a TV wafted through the door as you knocked.

The TV stopped and you could hear wood creaking as Ford approached. The door opened and revealed him wearing a suit with a large question mark tie.

He smiled down at you, gesturing for you to enter. "Hi."

"Hey." Your eyes scanned the room, mostly homemade wooden furniture with the odd trinkets or pop of colour. There were a few sciency looking gadgets but otherwise this was a humble home. "It's really cute in here."

Ford scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks."

The silence was slightly weird but you anticipated that it may be a bit weird at first. Just have to push through it.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

"No but to be honest I'm zonked." You chuckled. "Long journey."

Ford clasped his hands. "Of course, well, you can have my room. I'll take the couch."

"Uhm, I can't kick you out of your room." You didn't realise that he would have to vacate his bed for you to visit. "I'll stay on the couch."

"You take the bed, I won't hear anything else about it." He added the last part as your mouth opened to argue.

~~

Staying with Ford was odd.

He was more casual than you remembered.

Gave fewer lectures.

But otherwise your stay was pleasant.

You helped him in the Shack; printing t-shirts, manning the register, flicking the lights on and off, making spooky noises when needed. It was fun.

You enjoyed your time here because it was silly. You were able to let loose whilst watching some suckers gape at a wax figure or a crudely put together unicorn.

After leaving it really didn't take long to decide on coming back.

Spending every other weekend up in Oregon became your routine. Yeah, the drive was shitty but it was worth it.

Ford loved it. Or well.. if he didn't he didn't say anything.

Eventually you were gifted a cot upstairs and you considered staying for longer.. perhaps even for an indefinite amount of time. It was quite conflicting wanting to stay with Ford.

You still loved Stan. You'd always love him but you saw so much of Stan in Ford it was ludicrous.

The way he'd swindle and trick, his Mr Mystery persona, and whenever a patron was a little handsy, the way he'd threaten them.

Ford never did that. He outwitted people. He was the brains.

But maybe that changed in the time you spent apart. His father had made the two of them box and from Ford's ears he'd kept up the sport.

~~

Through all your time at the shack there was only one thing that truly bothered you. It was a teeny tiny detail but it drove you insane.

Ford never removed his gloves.

He was always wearing them.

Everyday, every night, every meal, everywhere.

You'd seen his hands before.

Everyone back home had.

They were just hands!

Maybe he didn't want the town to think they were real, wanted them to think he was a fraud because being a freak was worse?

It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things but it was agitating you.

~~

"Put teeth on it." You suggest, sitting on the floor with your back leaning against the wall.

Ford made a face but nodded, prying the crows beak apart. He wandered around the shop, opening cupboards and drawers. "I'm sure I had som-"

"The blue cabinet." You pointed.

Ford opened it and voilà he produced a jar of teeth. You didn't bother to ask if they were real, either of the answers would be weird. Yes = weird. No, where did he get such realistic teeth? = Weird.

You observed Ford positioning the teeth, he waited for your approval which you gave and began gluing them.

It was late in the evening and he had promised the town and its tourists something big. So crow with teeth and a skunks tail it was.

He was precise with the glue gun but still stopped to talk with you, ever the gentleman. How had their father made them?

You hated their dad with a passion.

He was an absolute asshole.

You'd tell him that, too.

He didn't even come to the funeral. You'd assumed he had passed but Ford told you he didn't want to come. His parents were starting afresh with Shermie.

No, you wouldn't include Caryn on that. She was lovely but Filbrick...

Filbrick was something else entirely. In fact, you remember first meeting him, he glanced up at you over his newspaper before returning to the words. Stan had reassured you that that type of behaviour meant he liked you but you knew differently. You knew, even at age 10, Stan was covering for his father.

Ford hadn't experienced that. He never knew what it was to disappoint his father and you felt for Stanley. You were even present once when Ford tried to explain that Stan seemed to take short cuts and maybe that was why Filbrick was disappointed. It was later in the week when Stan confessed that he had to take short cuts, of course he did, because how else could he possibly keep up?

"Ah shit!"

Your eyes shot back to Ford who was shaking his left hand. Quickly standing to assist. "What happened?"

"Just a burn, it'll be fine." Ford brushed you off, resuming the task at hand.

You scoffed. "Ford, take the glove off, you idiot."

"It's fine." He insisted.

"You're sticking to things!"

Ford grumbled but didn't reply.

"I've seen your hands before. There's no one else around. Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not weird." He huffed turning away from you. "Don't look."

You rolled your eyes before turning away. "Fucking hell, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were Stan pretending to be Fo-"

It hit you.

All the stupid chats, all the late night beers, all the jokes, the lame costumes, the zero science talk, the scams, the lies, everything.

Your body had turned without your brain catching up and you were face to face with a Stan. Not 100% sure which one.

Stan's eyes were wide, gloved hand clutching his ungloved one. You took three steps to him, invading his personal space, to place your own hand on top of his. Slowly you tugged on it and revealed the five digits.

Wh-what did this mean?

This was Stan?

Stanley?!

Where was Ford?

Why?

Why did Stan need- what was he doi- where wa-

His palm gripped yours. "I can explain."

.

.

.

Part 3

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