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crispy-armpit · 10 months

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✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

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sweetandsavageautistic · 28 days

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(CW: Cringe, Autism Parents stuff, drunk mention, infantilization)

So I don't have a degree in Graphic Design, but I do have a sense of general aesthetic. I figured that it's April. Let's rate, and potentially verbally tear apart and drag through the mud, some autism shirts and graphic designs, and I'll probably do a part 2, these scores are only semi-arbitrary: First up is this:

Already off the top, I am confusion because it seems to read "I wear puzzle cousin autism awareness". Sounds like whoever made this was drunk.

Puzzle pieces, ew.

The red, yellow, green, and blue look like the shades you'd see in elementary school, so that seems pretty infantilizing.

Autism Awareness, I am very much aware of my existence.

Final Score: 0 out of 10. Designer, go home; you're drunk.

Next we have this:

This one already has a slight advantage over the first because it's at least coherent in terms of the message.

Elementary school colors, but make it extra tacky.

Puzzle pieces; don't try to bullshit me by putting the autism awareness banner over it, I can see the other indents that make them puzzle pieces.

Once again, I am well aware of my own existence.

At least it's a smaller design.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10, and that's being generous.

Next one's not a shirt, but it still counts:

No blue so thank God for that.

This is up to personal preference, but to me, the person-first language is giving "I need to be reminded that someone is a person."

Puzzle pieces. Ew. Don't BS me, I can see them.

Walk down Autism Lane. (it's right below the word LOVE) Sorry, but we don't allow ableists on Autism Lane; you need to be a premium member and to be a premium member, you need to not be a dick.

The pumpkin disturbs me for some reason, and not in the Halloween way; I mean, it just straight-up disturbs me.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10. Bury it in a shallow grave.

Just found this one:

It's easy on the eyes at least.

No tacky elementary school colors.

No puzzle pieces.

The bunny's cute, but this also seems very infantilizing.

Person first language is a no for me.

Why are all of the is lowercase, but the others are uppercase?

Final Score: 5 out of 10. Not great, but not terrible.

Here we have simple:

Elementary school colors, but credit where credit's due; it's not terrible on the eyes.

Why is blessed on there three times?

One big-ass puzzle piece.

"Autism blesses" Yes, because being bullied by my peers, being indirectly told who I am is wrong, having the worst time making friends, always feeling like I'm never truly part of a friend group, being confused when some adults got mad at me, not having anyone to play with at 4 years old is an absolute fucking blessing. /s And that's the tip of the iceberg.

"Fun", "Sweet", "Cute".....it's the infantilization for me.

Final Score: 3 out of 10. No further elaboration.

Then there's this monstrosity:

I call this color Patronizing Paraprofessional Blue, aka the tackiest shade of blue ever.

It looks like something one of those older white suburban millennial moms would wear. Like something a Karen would wear to one of those autism walks or one of those social skills teachers who talk in that slowed-down patronizing kindergarten teacher tone with that fake-ass smile, no matter how old you are. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Yeah, they'd wear this.

Puzzle piece. Light It Up Blue. Ew.

We all know what organization this supports.

Final Score: -10 out of 10. Burn it.

Let's get in a good one to counter that abomination of a shirt and end part one on a higher note:

Nice simple design with a black background.

No tacky elementary school colors.

Identity-first language.

Really counters the....what the fuck would it be called? The UwU autism parent thing? ("I am his voice, he is my heart," "See the able, not the label," etc,.) It counters that.

The light sparkle around "a bitch" is chef's kiss.

Final Score: 11 out of 10. Perfection.

#autism awareness #autism acceptance #autism #autistic #actually autistic #actuallyautistic #sweet and savage autistic

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hellish-sunsets · 2 months

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Curses and Blessings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless.

Word Count: 1,554

Read on AO3

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In the chaos of Pentagram City, where sinners ran amuck and you couldn’t go anywhere without running into some fucker doing the things that got them stuck here in the first place, no one gave a second glance when some random woman was thrown out of a rundown building into the alleyway. She slammed against the far brick wall with a grunt, but made sure not to fall to the ground. A large beast of a man followed with a glower, but kept himself firmly rooted in the doorway.

“Get going, bitch! Unless you want to get yourself fucked up for real.”

She glared at him, taking a shaky step forward, one arm clutching at her bruised side.

“The fuck is your problem, man? I paid my rent!”

The man just shrugged, a cruel smirk twisting at his lips. “Yeah, but I found a pretty bitch willing to pay just as much, and she’ll fuck me too.” He said with a bark of laughter. “Looks like you’re out of luck. Now get out of here!.”

With that he slammed the door shut, shaking the doorframe, leaving her on the street. Again.

He didn’t even let her get her stuff, the jackass. Not that there was much. Everything important was in the bag slung over her shoulders.

She leaned heavily against the brick wall, wincing in pain slightly as she opened the bag to double check everything was there. With a nod to herself, she pushed herself off the wall and trudged through the streets of hell, unconsciously tugging her left sleeve down to cover the mark on her wrist.

Alright, first thing first, get a place to stay for the night. That was easier said than done, of course. It was hell, filled with the worst of humanity. There wasn’t going to be any well wishers or good samaritans to help and plenty of greedy or perverted men. Probably both. She would have to be careful.

God, she was so tired of being careful.

Of course, the big issue was her lack of money. She already gave that jackass everything she had for rent. He most definitely wasn’t giving her that back.

She sighed, glancing up. In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless.

Everyone in hell knew about the Hazbin Hotel, the little pet project of one Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer himself. If it was brought up in conversation, it was with stifled laughter and condescension. As if anyone in hell was capable of something like redemption. Did she agree with them? She wasn’t entirely sure herself. If people didn’t want to change, then obviously they wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe if they got a few people who actually gave a shit it might work out, but that was a big maybe.

Not of that really mattered right now. What did matter was that anyone could get in for free, and it was a hell of a lot better than a night on the streets. She didn’t want to think too hard about what commitment she was making by even approaching the front steps, but it couldn’t be anything too bad, right? From what she’s seen on TV, this Charlie girl seemed nice enough. The worst she could expect was what, some lame exercises? She could handle that. And it wasn’t like she was a shit person herself. She’d only been in hell for, what, three months? It would take more than that to drag her depressed ass down to these people’s level. She could manage this. She could do this, she could do this! She was already debating joining anyways, just to get out of her last building.

She was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, loud and very noticeable even from this side of the large double doors. She almost didn’t even realize she rang it. She took a few steps back, tugging her sleeve down again, anxiety clawing at her throat suddenly. After a few moments, she could make out the sound of hurried footsteps and voices. They hushed suddenly before the door was yanked open and she was greeted by the bright, warmth-filled smile of Charlie Morningstar herself, recognizable from her time on TV. Next to her was another woman, with gray skin and long white hair, not nearly as bright and bubbly.

“Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Come in, come in!” Charlie all but shouted, ushering her inside the well lit lobby. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here. Wait, I mean, um, My name is Charlie! It’s nice to meet you!”

Charlie happily extended her hand and she hesitantly shook it.

“Um, Y/N…” she mumbled. “I’m, uh, here for a room? And, uh, the whole… thing you do here, I guess…”

“Great! Of course! Come on, let’s pick a room out for you and I can introduce you to the others! Oh, we can do session tonight! And then-” Charlie happily babbled on about sessions and introductions as she turned to lead the way. She hesitantly gave the other woman a look. She gave a friendly enough smirk and motioned for her to follow.

“It’s Vaggie, by the way.” She mumbled so as not to interrupt Charlie’s rambling. She nodded in acknowledgement, not voicing her first thought which was how unfortunate that name was, but that wasn’t her place.

As it turned out, the rooms here were a decent size, about what you would expect from a typical hotel with an attached bathroom. It was certainly a hell of a lot nicer than her last place. And she really didn’t have to pay rent? It seemed too good to be true.

“It’s… nice. Thank you.” She offered with a smile, making Charlie beam. She looked like she was going to say something, but Vaggie stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you settle in, then you can join us at dinner.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re going to have dinner as a group today! Cook together and eat together, bring everyone together, it’s going to be great.” Charlie explained with her usual enthusiasm as Vaggie guided her towards the door. “Though, I guess you don’t have to help with the cooking today. You can join in next time! I’ll send somebody when it’s ready, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good, sweetheart. Thank you again.” She replied politely, earning another beaming smile before Vaggie managed to get Charlie out of the room, closing the door behind them. She heard the girl’s excited voice as she was guided down the hallway.

Y/N waited for it to be quiet before finally letting out the breath she was holding.

She could do this.

She dropped her bag on the bed, then collapsed onto it face first with a thump. It smelled like fresh linen and laundry detergent, not even the faintest hint of mold or mildew. That, and the sheer softness of it forced a sigh out of her chest, her body melting into the comfort the blankets offered. Yeah, this would be okay. She just… had to keep herself in check, make sure she didn’t ruin this for herself, and make herself useful.

Just don’t be a burden.

She tensed up as the thought passed through her mind, and with it came the disdain of her fathers eyes. Don’t fuck this up, don’t be a buren.

She dragged herself towards the pillow with a huff, burying her face in it and holding her breath, focusing on her heartbeat. She couldn’t let herself think like that, not now when she had to meet so many people before long. It would be fine, she was fine, it’s okay.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the knocking at the door startled her awake. She immediately rushed for the door, yanking it open to the sight of a startled snake-like man.

“Uh, hello! My name is Sir Pentious and Charlie has assigned me the job of escorting you to dinner.” He said, voice hissing with every syllable. She nodded.

“Of course, just, um, let me get myself ready.” She mumbled, leaving the door open as she headed towards the bathroom to look herself over, trying to tame her hair some and mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

“We made a beef stew!” Sir Pentious offered from his spot at the doorway. “And that mark on your arm is very pretty! Mine isn’t nearly as appealing…”

She froze at that, looking down at her wrist. Her sleeve must have gotten pulled up while she slept, revealing the array of gold and orange and pink. She cursed at herself and pulled her sleeve down.

“I, uh, th-thank you!” she shouted back, wincing.

She had… complicated feelings about her mark and the whole… soulmate thing in general. It was just… better if she avoided the whole thing. She took a deep breath to steady herself and went out to Sir Pentious with a smile, at least pretending she was ready to meet everybody.

#lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #curses and blessings #soulmate au #hazbin hotel soulmate au #lucifer x reader soulmate au

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coffeewithcocoa · 2 months

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Drunk Confessions

Prologue

Human Alastor x Male Reader

I’m spitting random shit outta my ass and this is one of them.

(LOOK AT THIS MAN! MY EYES ARE BEING BLESSED!)

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You and Alastor were good friends. The best even! You too have been growing up together and both your parents have loved seeing you both do everything together. Whenever someone would push him down you would be at his side helping him, same went for you. He chose to be more violent though.

Even when you both were teens that didn’t plan on splitting you up. Though when you did have to move back to Europe, you and him realized that you wouldn’t be able to talk.

So you just declined moving back there all together. Your parents kept trying to say that it was for the better and you’ll visit soon but that didn’t convince you. It took 18 hours, with the help of Alastor’s mom, to get you to leave.

Tears ran down your face as you remembered all the good times with him.

“AHEM-!” Someone snapped you out of your thoughts. “HM- Yes Mimzi?” You chuckled at the embarrassment, that was probably like the fifth time today. “How about you go talk to him. You’ve been gawkin’ at him ever since he walked in!”

She did have a point. “No thank you, Mimzi.” You turned your attention back over to the bartender. “Another drink please Husker?” He rolled his eyes and fetched you another drink. “Thank you~!” You sang out to him.

“Look..you high haven’t talked ever since you moved.” Mimzi said to get your attention turned back towards her. “Just try and talk to him again?” She spoke again, rising an eyebrow at you

“I would love to..I truly would, but it’s been so long and..WHERE are you going?!” She chuckled as she got up from her chair. Her height being very noticeable as her flapper dress straightened out from being seated.

“If you’re not gonna do it, then I am sweetheart.” She waved her hand at you as she moved closer to your old friend. “Here’s your drink..” You quickly got up from your chair, ‘shit!’ But when you got there it was too late. You quickly turned your heals and walked back to your spot.

“Thank you again for the drink Husk.” You snatched the drink that he healed and left to the back room of the speakeasy. God, you hated when people fought your own battles for you. You get that they’re trying to help but damn.

You closed the door with a nice click noise. A soft sigh slipped past you, taking a nice sip from the whiskey that you so desired. The room that you were in held all kinds of liquor. Starting from whiskey and ending at wine.

‘Looks like I can drink myself to death over here.’ You quickly downed the rest of your drink like it was a shot and grabbed a similar bottle to the Whiskey you liked. Opening it with a nice pop sound, you started refilling your glass with it.

The smell of liquor quickly filled the room. A satisfied hum came out from you as you decided to drink your way till you were drunk. Even though that was pretty risky but you didn’t care.

“Anyways Alastor, sweetheart, how have you been doing?” Mimzi smiled at Alastor as her and him were walking back got the area that she was last seen with you. “Oh I’ve been doing quite alright! The radio broadcasts have been just swell!” He chuckled out in his normal happy self.

Mimzi made a lip smack sound, “Well isn’t that just nice. I’ll be happy to let you know that..where the fuck did he go.” She blinked at your seat a couple of times before turning around to face the taller person.

She chuckled out loud while tinkering with her gloves. “Okay look. I didn’t lie to you but he did disappear.” Her voice wasn’t that confident. Since Husk was right there he scoffed, calling her out on her fake bullshit. “You were the one who fucking scared him off, son of a bitch.” He mumbled the last part so the both of them wouldn’t hear.

“What did I do to scare him off?!” Mimzi started getting defensive. “You called over the very fuckin’ person that he didn’t want to talk to.” Husk blinked at Mimzi before heading away. Alastor just stood there smiling before moving towards Husk.

“Hello old pal.” Alastor gave Husk one of the fakest smiles know to him. “The fuck you want.” Husk turned around so he could clean some bottles. “I just have a favor.” Alastor chuckled. “No need to get all pissy now. I just want you to know where you saw him go!” Alastor said taking a glass of Whiskey.

———————————————————————

I’m going to write a part 1. For right now I guess this is a prologue! FEAST MY LOVELY CHILDREN>:)

Part 1

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #x male reader #asexual #human alastor #character x you #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male reader #gay reader

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phoenix--flying · 1 year

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pjo characters as things my friend group has said

Hazel: I just kinda radiate towards caves

Nico: Breathing has been taken out of Nicos software

Connor: I can speedrun to your house when you're home alone

Cecil: raisins are dehydrated rats

Percy: It's a roller coaster where the only option is to die

Will: I just goooot- my jugular sliced open by a cat

Nico: We're going out tonight and killing all the homophobes. Call it a date

Will: Why am I so much taller then- Oh its cause im standing on a dead body

Connor: You're sooo welcome. I literally did nothing

Hazel: Just because your trash doesn't mean you can't do great things. It's called a trash can not a trash cannot

Piper: Cut my hair, I'll cut your throat

Thalia: Sometimes I do slap kids

Travis: When I grow up I'm gonna be a legal drug dealer

Beckendorf: I’m going to drop kick myself into space

Malcom: Briefly describe three applications that make use of the total eternal reflection of light Connor: The colour seven

Grover: Percys reaching old age, we should put him in a retirement home

Piper: Leo what did you do Leo: I may have burned down an orphanage and it may have spread to this site.

Lou Ellen: Travelling, usually done on the ceiling

Will: Imagine sitting on your couch watching TV and your phone buzzes. Reminder: Breathe

Austin: i just broke an acorn.. panic whY IS THERE AN ACORN IN MY ROOM

Nico: i feel like today happened yesterday and i just slept for all of tomorrow and woke up in the evening

Malcom: yeah i fell down the stairs and broke my spine in 3 places Connor: that's hot

Jason: Nitroglycerin. The forbidden smoothie

Will: I always look like trash. Annabeth: I know that's why I hate looking like trash

Travis: well we only have a few minutes left of class.. y'all wanna watch something explode

Piper: It sounded like you smoked 10 packs of cigarettes and then hit puberty

Jason: Imagine you get fired the day after you die

Nico: My stomach just like...started learning German

Nyssa: Leo if you don't leave, i'm shoving this desk fan up your ass

Jason: I slammed my foot on the accelerator, running multiple red lights at 220km/h, because I wanted to drive safe

Nyssa: When you go through the car wash but you forget the car

Drew: *points at trashcan* That looks like you

Nico: I only want chemistry between me and a coffin

Jake: Gotta put your wheelchair in 4Wheeldrive. Outdoor mode. Off-road mode

Leo: Murder is ok as long as its fine

Percy: Maybe if I fall asleep on my textbook I'll wake up with all the knowledge

Connor: Let's play spin the bottle but it's only you and me

Leo: Now how do we calculate the density if swiss cheese

Clarisse: I have to ask one of the experts Chris: Who are the experts? Clarisse: I don't know

Piper: Your mom is on vacation Leo: well- she's on a permanent vacation

Michael: AYO BITCH YOUR FOODS FLAMIN THE FUCK

Silena: If you're slow I'm a fucking snail

Jason: We need to hold a funeral! Percy: Here comes the bride

Beckendorf: Have you ever died? No??? Well here you go!!! Death simulator. It’s permanent!

*Annabeth and Percy sitting on a bench with drinks and a cop drives by* Percy: What if they thought we were drinking and driving Annabeth: We're not in a car

Will: I'm so smart Nico: Oh my god since when

Piper: *gives Leo a singular goldfish* Piper: Feeding the poor

Lou Ellen: Bless your soul Nico: What soul? Lou Ellen: ...good answer

Sherman: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and anybody else if you throw it hard enough

Connor: I can see the veins in my eyes

Ellis: Whatever sinks your boat!

Cecil: You can't kill the gays if the gays kill you first

Will: dude sorry there's a knife in your grandma's face it grew wings and flew there :( Cecil: I’m sorry my knife flew out of my hand and slit that guys throat then burned it so he wouldn’t bleed

Silena: *playing Minecraft* I walked into your house and your birds started aggressively dancing at me

Lee: That's just so unfortunate for me. That is just so- oh I died

Percy: Wanna go to Toronto? Why drive just take the Earth Quake on natural disaster

Travis: The roof is just caving in on us it's fine

Michael: My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my lungs are broken, my knees are broken, I got decapitated when I was five

Connor: We're gonna die? No we're gonna beat the speedrun world record

Cecil: Hell to go down I there

Will: Mask to mask resuscitation

Travis: I may or may not have accidentally dropped a match in the building on purpose

Nico: Minecraft but I accidentally sets a school on fire

Percy: Minecraft but I die of hypothermia

Piper: Minecraft but I left my eyes at home

Jake: Minecraft but my legs are broken

Jason: Minecraft but I died

Lou Ellen: Minecraft but we're all gay

Will: If I die the game is homophobic

Cecil: Minecraft but I run my best friend over

Nico: I wanna hit a citizen with a baseball bat

Michael: Hey sir, you have Alzheimer’s. Would you like a side of bronchitis?

Silena: Why can't this be straight? Lee: Because you're not

Lou Ellen: mmmm i love my jesus fish Cecil: bro jesus fish Lou Ellen: ikr, jesus moment

839 notes · View notes

faiirybread · 6 months

Text

i know places ︴aa23

🌷 in which.. the fans aren’t happy, but they are!

pt1!

alex_albon just posted!

God bless America, God bless double points!🫡🇺🇸🦅raaaaahhh!!!!

tagged: danielricciardo, yukitsunoda, yourusernameofficial

liked by yourusernameofficial, yukitsunoda, and 927,724 others

user1 YN?????

user2 great race today, you deserved those points!

user3 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user4 GET AWAY FROM HER

user5 MOM NO PLEASE

yourusernameofficial Amazing job today, it was awesome to watch! 💙💙

alex_albon Thank you so much!

user4 BRO GO FOR IT

user6 is yn dating him?

user5 we dont know, all the interactions between them is him liking her post and posting her stage on his story, her going to a race, and now this post

user6 ah ok

user7 NO WAY yourusernameofficial ARE YOU A GLUTEN FREE GIRLIE

yourusernameofficial Yes! I went gluten free because I kept getting muscle injuries, and it’s really helped! 💗

user7 YESSSS SHE IS ONE OF US I LOVE YOU YN

user8 STOP THEY WENT TO TRADER JOES TOGETHER???

user9 THATS WHAT IM SAYINGG LIKE THEY ARE TOGETHER

user10 RAHHH LAND OF THE FREE TO DATE YN YLN

user11 he isnt dating her you bitch.. get out of here

user10 RAHH CANT HEAR YOU OVER ALL THIS FREEDOM

user11 why would yn lower herself to him, she knows her worth and he isnt it.

user12 WHATS THAT SOUND?? THE SOUND OF LIBERATION FROM WACKASS KPOP STANS

f1gossip just posted!

recent photos released by korean news site dispatch of yn yln and alex!

liked by user1, user2, and 98,725 others

user1 YOUR JOKING

user2 most random couple

user3 yn.. how could you betray us like this 😔

user4 ALEX ALBON WITH THE RIZZZ

user5 wtf are you talking about? this isnt a good thing..

user4 lol what why

user5 yns whole career is on her fans, who shes betraying with this. ive been a fan since she was 16 and to see her grow up to be such a slut is really disappointing.. i wouldnt be surprised if her company terminates her contract

user4 bro wtf are you on about?? shes a fucking human being who is allowed to live and have friends and partners. calling yourself a fan of hers then saying shes a slut is just laughable. your a 40 year old man who became a fan of a 16 year old and cant bear to think that shes not a doll for you to play with. fucking creepy and disgusting.

user6 NUH UH NUH UH

user7 ok but ehy this guy?! yn could literally have anyone in f1 and she chose a guy who cant even win a race??

user8 dude poor alex he does not deserve the crazy kpop stans breathing down his neck

user9 wait theyre kinda cute 🤭

user10 NO THEYRE NOT

ynupdates just posted!

OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM SM ENTERTAINMENT:

Hello, this is SM Entertainment. A series of photos were shared today of YN YLN. We cannot confirm or deny the rumors, and request that you give YN privacy and empathy in this time. Thank you.

liked by pierregasly, user1, and 562,737 others

user1 what was the point of the statement if theyre not gonna confirm anything 😭

user2 sm this isnt kai and jennie.. williams racing is not gonna post a statement

user3 ok so….

user4 #DROPYN

user5 get tf outta here ‼️

user6 BOOOO

user7 this is how her company responds to alex getting this amount of hate??

user8 unfortunately its really common because of the industry standard that idils stay single/keep their relationships private so this is probably the most we’ll get from sm

user7 really? ive seen some companies do legal action, are they not doing that?

user8 not for alex, only for yn

user7 damn this is gonna be tough for alex then

user9 alex_albon pls see the light this is not worth it

user10 #DROPYN

alexalbon just posted a story!

user1 YES ALEX

user2 thank you for defending her!!

user3 just not a good idea to be around her..

user4 GET OUT GET OUT

yourusernameofficial just posted!

3 songs for the ones I love 💗

Slut!, Teenage Dream, and Mirrorball out now on all platforms 🌷

tagged: smtown, alex_albon

liked by alex_albon, imnotningning, and 7,273,127 others

📌alex_albon WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME ABOUT THESE

yourusernameofficial 🤭 🤭 luv ya babes

alex_albon I LOVE YOU TOO!!! I WILL ALWAYS MAKE IT WORTH IT!!

user1 TEENAGE DREAM IS SO 😭 😭 😭 IM SORRY WE MADE YOU FEEL LIKE THAT YN

user2 are you gonna cancel promos for these too?

alex_albon soz but promos are only for me 😝

user3 bad start dad…

alex_albon sorry kiddo had to say how it is

user4 MIRRORBALL 😭😭😭 YNNIE WERE SO SORRY

user5 slut! is so romantic?? alex how did you do it

pierregasly amazing songs!

yourusernameofficial thank you!!

user6 YN ARE WE GONNA GET MORE PADDOCK CONTENT

yourusernameofficial YES!!!! IM SO EXCITED

user6 OMG OMG OMG PLS ARE YOU GONNA BE IN THE GARAGE??

yourusernameofficial i cant say yet but ill deffo try and meet you guys there!!

user7 she seems so happy with him dude, she never used to respond to comments or anything

landonorris I WANT YOU TO KNOW IM YOUR MIRRORBALL ILL SHOW YOU EVERY VERSION OF YOURSELF TONIGHT

yourusernameofficial 🫶🫶🫶

user8 WE LOVE YOU YN!!!

user9 BLOSSOMS LETS STREAM THESE AND SHOW HER OUR LOVE!!

user10 FLOP #DROPYN

alex_albon waa waa waa 😹😹😹

charlesleclerc16 OUTSOLD 👏 👏 👏

yourusernameofficial thank you charles!!

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #alex albon #alex albon x y/n #alex albon x you #alex albon x reader #alex albon fic #alex albon imagine #📌myfics!

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chaifootsteps · 2 months

Note

What drives me most insane about all the discourse (or lack of discourse) around Hazbin is people trying to act like Angel Dust is the first ever sex worker character portrayed in media as an actual *character.* To say nothing of the fact that he's an utterly HORRIBLE representation. If anything it reinforces the idea of sex work as some bottom of the barrel hail mary for the desperate and horny. Which...no.

You want to know what most sex workers are like??? People. They're like *people.* People with interests and identities outside of their profession. They also have a lot in common with Therapists in that people go to them for comfort and sometimes literally a shoulder to cry on. The old cliche of a guy hiring a hooker only to cry about his problems isnt just for laughs. Listening to people and comforting them is a HUGE part of sex work. SO many sex workers are incredibly kind and emotionally intelligent people and not all of them only resorted to sex work out of desperation.

Angel? He's basically just a sassy, mean, gay twink stereotype rolled together with a ceaselessly horny, drug addled, asshole. Just because we're meant to feel bad for him doesnt make him a good representation.

You know some shows/movies that DO have positive rep? Bobs Burgers, Bless The Harts , GLOW, Firefly, Moulin Rouge, fucking Independence Day and yes I mean the one from 1996, and Sweet Charity which is from the goddamn 60s.

And these are just a fraction of the examples out there.

As a rule (and this is for everyone, not just the dickriders) just because YOU haven't seen/heard of something before doesnt mean it hasn't been done. Stop making all these broad judgements based on your own very narrow experience and do some research, good lord...

Dont even get me started on people trying to applaud the show for queer rep when it's literally just a Yaoi Hentai with musical numbers and twice the exploitation.

I pray to god John Waters never finds out about Hazbin because I don't need the poor man finding out all the work he did for queer culture and media has been set back decades by one spoiled rich white bitch.

And yes, Vivienne is white. Having South /Central American heritage does not automatically mean you aren't white. White is complexion, not a goddamn nationality. If you look and act white enough, you'll get treated like a white person, and Viv is about as white as they come. She grew up in goddamn bourgie-ass Frederick, Maryland. We see you, Viv.

Honestly, at the moment, I think my favorite fictional depiction of a sex worker is Tuca from Tuca & Bertie in that brief window of time she dabbled in it. Did it because she liked it and was good at it, no stereotypical Valentino-esque pimp in the picture, her clients were all regular people too, and she did it online which is something you don't often see in media. Viv could never have written something that grounded and adult.

#Anonymous #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

90 notes · View notes

feyhunter78 · 4 months

Text

Chapter Seventeen - You're ignoring him, and it's driving him insane, luckily fate is on his side and Todd slips up.

Ch 18

TW: Todd is very mean to y/n, and Miguel fucks him up, like it's a bit graphic

You’re avoiding him, it’s been a week now, it’s obvious. You cling to Janey, Gladys, to fucking Dave, to anyone who isn’t him. You even ate lunch with Gladys. He hates Gladys. She’s a kind enough old woman, but her crucifix blinds him, and she hugs him so tightly it burns him through his clothes. And now she’s stealing you from him, wrapping you in a bubble of silver and well-meaning that keeps him from even talking to you.

Perhaps he had gone too far, or you’d been awake when he pawed at you like an animal unable to overcome his base instincts. But you showed no signs of awareness, you had curled into him, basked in his touch, your mind betrayed no thoughts of fear or deception. But now? Now you were closed to him, he didn’t think it possible, but you had unknowingly shut him out, and what little glimpses he was able to pry free were of the mundane. You forgot to get more paper towels at the grocery store, your feet hurt, you wanted some candy you randomly remembered from your youth.

“Y/N, wait up.” He calls down the hall, clipboard in hand, probing at your mind as you turned on your heel.

“Do you need help with something?” You ask him, tone perfectly pleasant, measured, polite.

He smiles, a winning, megawatt smile that he knows makes your heart flip. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

No reaction, you glance at your own clipboard then over his shoulder. “We’re really swamped today, I think we should each handle our own cases, it’ll get the work done faster.”

He steps closer, and you take a slight step back. “True, but you know that they say, many hands make light work.”

“They also say too many cooks spoil the broth.” You tell him, holding your clipboard in front of you like a shield.

Miguel steps back, giving you space, hand going to his neck sheepishly, he can’t read you, your mind is a wall, and his thoughts are bouncing off it so pathetically he wants to scream. “Did I do something? If I did, I apologize, I never meant to—"

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it.” You cut him off gently, giving him a small smile. It’s a pale imitation of your normal radiance, and he feels cold, covered in grave dirt clawing his way up for air again.

“Of course, I’ll see you around?” He tries, fighting the urge to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

“We’re swamped, Miguel.” You say noncommittally, already heading towards the lab.

Miguel corners Janey in the kitchen, sliding her an extra bag of chips as a bribe.

“Hey Miguel, what’s up?” She asks, taking the chips and opening them.

“Is everything okay with Y/N?”

Janey chews thoughtfully. “Have you asked her if everything’s okay?”

“I tried; she’s avoiding me.”

“You think she’s avoiding you.”

“I know she is.” He says flatly, casting his gaze around the abandoned kitchen.

“Look, Miguel, breakups are hard enough as is, but when your ex is psycho and keeps finding ways to contact you, that makes it even worse.” She says, pursing her lips, disdain for Todd rolling off her in waves.

“He’s been contacting her?” He’s going to kill Todd, rip him limb from limb and leave them for the beasts to feed upon.

“Yeah, he goes between begging to get back with her and bitching her out.” She rolls her eyes. “Small dick energy, is such an ick.”

Miguel nods, though he’s not entirely sure what she means by that. Slang comes and goes so quickly, he never learns what it means until it’s too late, but he can make an educated guess for this one.

“Someone should just kill him or something.” Janey mumbles.

Someone should.

Two weeks later, he can’t believe his luck. Truly, the gods have finally blessed him because there’s Todd, standing by your car, arms crossed, a face like thunder. Miguel’s been done with work for hours, but he can’t leave until you do, can’t let you walk to your car alone in the dark without at least being within earshot. You two are one of the few people left tonight, like most nights, and the others are the night cleaning crew who put their headphones on and get to work. But now Todd is here, and you, sweet, beautiful, are still inside finishing up a report, which means he has Todd all to himself.

It’s pathetic, the way Todd all but cowers than attempt to puff out his chest, chin tilting up in defiance when he approaches. “Miguel, right? Y/N’s friend who’s got a crush on her.”

“Todd right, Y/N’s ex who cheated on her?” Miguel says, a smirk toying at his lips at the way Todd bristles.

“That’s in the past. Now that I’ve finally got her to agree to talk, she’ll see she was overreacting and run back to me.”

He can’t tell if Todd is incredibly arrogant, or incredibly stupid.

“Mind if I stay and watch?” Miguel asks, leaning against your car.

Your figure appears silhouetted by the light streaming out of the morgue’s back entrance. You’re still a good ways away, looking over your shoulder, probably wishing the night crew good night on your way out.

“You a masochist or something? Want to watch as she turns you down for me?” Todd snickers.

“Only a fool would choose you over me. I am a Duke, wealthy, powerful and you, you are nothing but a merchant’s bastard. Why would she ever love you?”

Miguel remembered when Todderick said that to him, spat in his face and had his men tear apart his shop. His consolation for the damaged goods had been the way you sat in his lap so prettily and cleaned his face with your own handkerchief, tears in your eyes as you apologized for Todderick’s behavior. He had kissed away your tears and ran his fingertips down your sides, exploring the intricate design of your gown, gazing at you in wonder.

You, who came from great wealth. A highborn lady bred to marry someone such as Todderick had rushed to his side as soon as you heard the news. You who attended to him so carefully, who reaffirmed your love for him over and over again, pleading with him to ignore Todderick’s words. He was successful, his shop did well, but the circumstance of his birth was one of shame, he could not escape that fact. You did not care though, you loved him despite the facts.

“Something like that.” Miguel drawls, raising a hand in greeting when you draw near.

“Todd? Miguel? What are you guys doing?” You ask, holding your belongings close to your chest, eyes nervously darting around looking for an escape route.

Your thoughts are loud now, you’re too tired to conceal them, whether consciously or not, and he wishes they weren’t. You’ve gone to worst case scenarios first. They’re here to hurt you, to take revenge for the upset you’ve caused them, and you know you won’t be able to fight them off.

He feels the urge to vomit. He would never, could never harm you, nor force himself upon you, and to think the thought would ever enter your mind? Born of fear or not, he wishes he was cursed to die by the sun so he could chain himself to a tree and let the morning rays set him aflame.

He purposely makes his voice calm, soothing, adjusts his posture until he feels he’s as nonthreatening as he can be. “I was heading home and saw Todd by your car. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

You believe him, even if he couldn’t read your mind he sees it in your face, in the way you shift your weight ever so slightly towards him.

“You said we could talk, I’m here to talk.” Todd says, spreading his arms wide.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “I meant at a coffee shop, or a public park, not my work parking lot.”

Todd takes a step forward, Miguel watches him, alert, ready to grab him if needed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

Miguel bites back a laugh. Like what? You’ll say, all angry and defensive.

“Like what?” You snap, just like he thought you would.

“Look, I know you still believe what you saw in the video, and I’ve accepted that I can’t change your mind, but I miss you.”

“So?”

“So, I think we can talk, and you know, there are some things you need to change for this to work but—”

“I need to change? Motherfucker, you cheated on me.” You laugh, the sound is short, bitter, piercing.

“No, I didn’t you just believe I did.”

“You’re fucking gaslighting me, again. Do you think I’m stupid?” Your eyes snap to Miguel’s burning with fury, searching for validation that you’re not crazy, that you saw what you saw.

He nods, pushing off your car and pulling himself up to his full height.

“I didn’t say that, you just don’t understand deep fakes, and what they can do with AI, it’s crazy, seriously, once we’re back together I’ll have to tell you all about it.” Todd says, reaching out for your shoulder.

Miguel clenches and unclenches his hands, eyes on you, burrowing into your own, waiting for you to do something, anything.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You say, pushing Todd’s hand away before it can land.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Todd throws his hands up in surrender. “There, I said it. You’re a bitch y/n, a frigid bitch. A waste of my fucking time, a damn burden that I’m finally free of. Now I can go fuck somebody who isn’t broken.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears welling in your eyes, and Miguel sees red.

I wish he’d just fucking die. Your thoughts are miserable and loud, and it is all Miguel needs to act.

He lunges, slamming Todd into your car, the metal creaking under the force of the blow.

“Y/N, get in my car, close your eyes.” He growls, not even looking over his shoulder as he tosses you his car keys. He’s parked on the other side of the lot, and he hears your frantic footsteps dart off in that direction.

“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Todd wheezes, panic bright in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer, his fist slamming into Todd’s jaw over and over again, hand bloodied, the crack of bones and teeth along with the rasps of breath from Todd’s punctured lung fill the air.

“Stop, stop, shit, please, dude, fucking roid rage ass, if I die, you’re going to jail.” Todd coughs out, one eye swollen shut.

Miguel laughs, fangs elongating, claws digging into Todd’s skin.

Todd’s one open eye widens. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.”

“You didn’t listen, Todderick; I swore I’d kill you if you ever hurt y/n. Now, perhaps I did not make myself painfully clear, but actions have consequences. You made my wife cry, so now I am going to kill you.”

Miguel grabs Todd’s jaw, wrenching it closed as he bites down, ripping his throat out in one clean motion before spitting it out onto the pavement. It’s the same with his limbs, letting them fall to the ground until there’s nothing but a mess of flesh and bone. It’s quick work, his breathing heavy as he tosses Todd’s mangled body into the woods, near a wolf’s den he spotted months before. The wolves will eat well, and he has satiated his need for revenge.

It will rain tonight, the storm will wash away the blood, no one will notice, he’s killed before, they never notice.

TL: @obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax, @generalkenobitrash, @keiva1000, @wilmontana987, @caslistener, @lotionlamp, @chrishy973, @havkjhdecs, @nyctophilic0vitnir

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #morgue miguel #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #vamp!au #vamp!miguel #vampire!miguel o'hara

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 23 days

Note

forever ago you mentioned in an ask post that you have a story in your head about college-aged Matt saving Frank’s kids and in return the Castle family forcibly enfolds him into their tribe. There is literal kidnapping involved, and every word in your little summary was fucking hilarious. I want you to know that that scenario has lived in my head rent free ever since—I am astounded by your brain and that concept makes me want to eat dirt (in the best way)(that is a compliment of the highest degree)

anyways! Please don’t think this is me asking “when will you write that” bc i get it, some plot bunnies are just bunnies, and time/real world is a bitch, BUT—if you ever have any little ramblings about it, I’d love to hear them :) the Castle family is Insane and I love them dearly and I am forever entranced by your characterizations of Matt and Frank

Have a good one!!

Christmas with the Castles my beloved. I love this one so much that I typed out an outline of the fic entirely. It is long. Please, take my ramblings if you want them:

It's Christmas at Columbia, hohoho, peace and goodwill to all mankind. The dorms are closed over winter break to replace the pipes and Matt's out on his ass for the holidays, so get fucked, blind little orphan with no surviving family, and God bless us everyone.

Normally the Nelson clan would have taken him in but Foggy's bitch of a Great Aunt Bertha insists on holding the entire family hostage for the holidays with the will as collateral, and she sucks in many respects but even more in the sense that she doesn't want any blind orphans schlepping around her holiday table. But the Nelson clan will risk it all for Matt, who they think is neat. They'll put the whole fucking will on the line, buddy.

Matt assures them that he's got it all under control and has a place to stay. Yes, with a person. Yes, a real one. An old friend of his dad's. No, he's not going to be homeless. Stop asking questions.

This is a lie.

His plan is to simply be homeless. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Foggy knows when Matt's on his bullshit and insists on speaking to the guy he's staying with, which means he needs to get Fogwell to lie for him. Except Fogwell knows when Matt's on his bullshit and won't let him off the fucking hook until he knows Matt won't be homeless for the holidays.

Matt unequivocally refuses to come home with him. Stop asking. He'll find someone else to do the phone call.

They compromise with Matt staying in the fucking boiler room of the gym. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Matt sort of makes Fogwell think that he only needs to crash for a few days, and Foggy's family is going to take him in for the rest. This is also a lie. He is fucking off to be homeless for the rest of the holiday season.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

He's swallowing his misgivings and putting up with staying in the boiler room of the gym for a few days so Fogwell won't freak out. Which he now regrets. Because it puts him right in the earshot of an active hostage situation. Are those kids? Those are fucking kids.

Anyway he tries to call the police anonymously like ten times but this just tips off the hostage takers, who apparently have a mole in the police, surprising no one. Now they're going to kill the fucking kids.

Matt can't listen to this.

Peace and fucking goodwill to all mankind.

Okay. Fuck. He's doing this now.

Fuck.

THE CASTLE'S HOLIDAY SEASON, THUS FAR:

The kids got kidnapped.

fuck.

that happened.

The thing is that some random NSA guy got into contact with Frank and in this AU he actually blew the whistle on the the CIA's bullshit. His family was in protective custody, until his best friend and pseudo brother stabbed him in the fucking back and sold them out. Now they have his kids.

He then kills a lot of people.

Like a lot.

But he can't find his kids. They have his kids.

They're going to kill his kids.

MATT'S NIGHT, THUS FAR:

He's an asshole in sweatpants with a t-shirt wrapped around the top part of his face and no fucking plan, and there are so many assholes with guns in there. Like. So many.

But fuck it. He's doing this now.

fuck.

He fights a lot of guys. He gets super shot. Some guy tries to shoot him with arrows. Like, what the fuck even is this, Robin Hood? Honestly, fuck this night.

Anyway, he saves the kids. Wheee.

It's sort of nice? They bond, when the crying stops. The kids like him a lot. He calls their parents. Sets up a place for them to get picked up. The boy gives him the sweatshirt he's wearing under his jacket, which is kind of him, because it's fuck-off cold and Matt's about ten minutes from going into shock. Anyway, he drops them off at the spot and fucks off into the night before their oddly bloodstained dad can stop him like the world's shittiest off-brand batman.

He then goes to exercise the right of any God-fearing American citizen, which is to bleed out in the basement of his childhood church.

Fogwell's never gonna be okay again if he finds Matt's blood-soaked body in the gym. Matt figures he can just break into that basement no one uses, steal a med kit, make a solid confession about breaking into and stealing from a church if he lives long enough, and hopefully no one will even notice he was there.

This does not pan out.

A really angry nun finds him and narcs him out to Father Lanthom and they bitch him out for "dying" and "not seeking life-saving medical attention" and drag his ass to to the hospital.

NOW THE CASTLE FAMILY, REUNITED AT LAST:

The kids' will be in therapy forever but the danger is gone, because frank killed them all very dead.

He then received a presidential pardon for All The Murder.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Anyway he's testified about the CIA corruption, the government is occupying itself with the coverup to end all coverups, and his only remaining concerns is (1) taking care of his family and (2) making sure the bleeding dipshit who saved his kids lives doesn't die in the streets. He's gotta find that dumb asshole.

Then he gets a phone call from a very concerned nurse at Metro General about the bleeding dipshit that got brought in with his kid's sweatshirt. They're calling because he keeps trying to goddamn leave while very fucking shot and he had a jacket with Frankie's information written on it in magic marker. Do they know him? Can they please come pick him up? They think he's going to die in the streets if someone does not pick him up.

And Yeah. Yeah, Frank Can Do That.

Matt.

Yeah.

The magic marker, he didn't.

Didn't

Didn't see that part.

Fuck.

Anyway, Matt's On His Way Out To Be Homeless For The Holiday Season, Peace And Goodwill To All Mankind, As Soon As The Goddamn Nurses Stop Hiding The Leave Against Medical Advice Forms. He lied and said he got jumped by a lot of guys, no, he didn't see who did it, because, you know. Blind. Just a regular ol' blind guy here. Poor fucking blind orphan alone and shot for the holiday season. Just give him the goddamn form.

And then that fucking guy shows up in his hospital room. The suspiciously bloody father of the kids he just got shot over. He's here, he's insisting that Matt's one of his family's closest friends and they're paying all of Matt's medical bills, and he's not commenting on the blind bit, but Matt can literally smell his curiosity. Matt's insisting that some random guy gave him the jacket, no, he didn't see his face, because, you know. Blind. He's not the guy Frank thinks he is. Nope. Please fuck off now.

They do not fuck off. Maria Castle blows through the hospital room like a hurricane, hugs him very genuinely, cries a little, and tells him that the Castle family pays their debts, and they've never had a greater one. Then the kids show up, and they fucking recognize him. Fuck.

Matt: imindanger.exe

Matt keeps feigning ignorance. Then, he waits until they leave the room and he fucking books it.

Anyway the Castle family minivan catches up to him when he's legging it a block away. They keep pace with him, and ask to just take him where he's going, and they swear they're not going to hurt him. They just want to help him out. He saved their kids.

And he can hear that they're telling the truth.

And it's so goddamn cold.

And he can hear his own internal bleeding.

And he's so, so tired.

So he tells them that no one would ever believe them. And he gets in the car. and he gives them Fogwell's address. And he tells himself he'll crash there for a day or two and fuck off to be homeless in the streets, peace and good-fucking-will to all mankind.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

A kidnapping.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DOES:

It's. It's a kidnapping. They do a kidnapping.

Look. Look. they pay their debts. They pay their fucking debts. It's what they do. And they get to Fogwell's boiler room and rapidly fucking realize that the guy who they owe their everything to is a terminally stupid 20-something and living in the rundown boiler room of an empty gym. And they simply cannot have that.

Frank? Frank, show Matthew back to the car, will he? Maria's going to pack up his things for him.

Matt: what.exe

WHAT MATT DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

it's.

It's the kidnapping.

it's that.

This fic is fundamentally founded in my premise that the entire Castle family is simply fucking insane. They're just all like that. Frank is not an outlier.

For the Castles, they're being perfectly reasonable. It's obvious that no one's taking care of this lovely young man who saved their kids, so no one will mind if they do it instead. He definitely needs it. So they sit their kids down and explain that sometimes Stockholm Syndrome is for someone's own good, which sounds perfectly reasonable to them. They then proceed to treat this like when you somewhat impulsively get a sick puppy from a Home Depot parking lot, and, well, he's a bit poorly behaved, and he keeps trying to run away, but the kids had wanted it so badly and eventually he's going to settle into his new home and then maybe you can stick felt reindeer antlers on him for the Christmas card, so you keep shoving his meds in peanut butter and forcing them down his throat and keeping the door blocked so the puppy can't slip out into the freezing new york night.

Matt treats this for what it is, which is a fucking kidnapping.

He is now fucking handcuffed to these crazy assholes' guest bed in their suburban home. It's by definition a kidnapping. they're acting like he's the unreasonable one for pointing this out. Except every time he wriggles out of his handcuffs, Frank just lugs his ass back to bed and chains him back up while they scold him. As if he's the unreasonable one for trying to escape his own kidnapping. They make him take his meds and eat three meals a day and the kids watch fucking Christmas movies with him while narrating the screen, as if this wasn't a kidnapping. This is insane. They're all insane.

Which is what he eventually tells them, out loud and to their faces.

And then Maria cries.

Stop.

Stop that.

That thing she's doing with her face. Stop that thing.

And Maria's like. Maybe they were over enthusiastic. But, being a mother, she just wants to take care of the nice young man who saved her little angels. And if that makes her a criminal, then she guesses she's a criminal. Because she cares.

Matt: shoving me into a van and handcuffing me to a bed against my will makes you by definition a criminal

maria: *cries harder*

Matt: stop

And Matt's like. Fine. Fine. He'll give into their crazy fucking kidnapping. Saves him the trouble of being homeless. Just. It's only until Christmas, and then he's gone.

maria, tearfully: and new years too?

Matt: don't push your luck

So fuck it. He's doing this now. But he's not going to like it. And he gets to come and go when he wants.

Frank: no.

matt: seriously fuck you

Except Matt's got shit they didn't pack at Fogwells. Shit they didn't realize belonged to him. His dad's shit. And he's absolutely desperate to get his dad's shit before some well-meaning janitor tosses it. So he very reluctantly agrees to let Frank go in his stead. Just. Just don't talk to people. And don't tell anyone he kidnapped matt. matt does not want to deal with that fucking court case.

Fogwell, immediately catching Frank gathering Matt's stuff for him, when he finds out that Matt sent him: are you a Nelson?

Frank, not a Nelson: Guilty.

And Fogs is just. Thrilled. So fucking thrilled that Matt has the Nelsons. Matt needs people like that, you know? People that'll welcome him home.

He's a good kid. And he hasn't had a home in a good long time. And Fogs--he's so fucking sorry that he couldn't give Matt that. And he. He.

Just tell him Merry Christmas from him? He understands why Matt didn't want to spend it with him.

Just tell him ol' Fogs was thinking of him. Tell him he really, really cares and hopes his holidays are good.

Fuck. Tell him he loves him. Just. Just tell him that. Fogs should have done it a long time ago.

What follows from there is a lot of wholesome, family-friendly Christmas activities, like:

making gingerbread houses

ice-skating

having a total mental breakdown when you get the message passed along from your pseudo-grandfather that he wishes he could have given him a home.

drinking cocoa

getting shit-faced drunk out on the town with the somewhat insane mother of those kids you saved, only to both be lugged home by a very exasperated Frank Castle.

watching Christmas movies

Visiting the grave of your dead father whose loss you've never recovered from

drinking eggnog

Confessing about your superpowers to the crazy fuckers who may or may not have given you stockholm syndrome, as well as your lasting trauma around the fact that you were child-soldierified and your soul-crushing terror that it will happen again

Making paper snowflakes

(Matt may not have meant to do all those things.)

I really like having backstories in communication with each other across my fics taking place in the same fandom? And Fogs is a great example of that. He tends to show up in all of my Daredevil fics, and he usually does something that brings Matt in from the cold in his backstory.

But in this world, that Fogs didn't do it.

In this one, he had the chance, and he failed.

Matt came to him. He ran away from the foster care system when he was a teen, and he went to Fogs as a desperate, last ditch effort. He begged Fogs to still love him the way he did when he was a kid. He begged Fogs to take him in the way he once took in Jack Murdock. He'd help Fogs around the gym. He'd do anything Fogs asked. He just wants to go home.

All he's wanted for years was to just go home.

And Fogs hugged him. He held him. He let him sleep on the couch.

And he called the police.

He wanted to do it the right away around, this time. He didn't want Matt to be hiding from the system for the rest of his youth the way his daddy once did. He wanted him to still get to go to school. He wanted him to be a kid. He wanted to adopt him proper, and didn't think of the fact that no one was gonna let him do it.

And he didn't account for how Matt would never trust him again.

He didn't account for Matt ending up on the streets, and he didn't account for matt refusing to come for him for help again, and he didn't account for Matt refusing to have anything to do with him until he hit law school and barely tolerated hanging around the gym at night again, and he didn't account for Matt not being able to stand the idea of spending the holidays with him.

There's a lot Fogs won't ever forgive himself for.

Anyway, Matt's stockholm syndrome was a great success. They fucking did it. They now have a crazy motherfucker with superpowers who's occupying this space as a the kid's new pseudo uncle. Unmitigated success. God, what an addition to the family. He's just as crazy as them.

Except Matt gets a call. From a very upset Foggy Nelson. Who says that they decided to burn the defunct bridge that was their relationship with their torrid bitch of a great aunt after she said something homophobic to Foggy's sister, and they went to go surprise Matt for the holidays, only to find out that he was already supposed to be with them. Matthew.

The thing is, foggy knows who Matt is as a person. He knows who Matt is as a person. There is such a very real chance that his blind best friend has been living under an overpass in subzero weather for the past few weeks and not telling him. He's having a heart attack and needs to come pick him up immediately before Matt starts selling his body or something.

And like, good news is that Matt was kidnapped by a lovely suburban family who have been keeping him warm and fed and dry, and they're going to be baking gingerbread today. The bad news is that Matt will literally have a heart attack if he has to explain to foggy how he got here so he just. Panics.

And hangs up the phone.

And matts panicking about how he hung up the phone, because foggy will absolutely call the police and report him as a missing person, holy shit will he call the police on him, Matt was literally kidnapped but he likes his kidnappers now and doesn't want them to be arrested, they're making gingerbread you see and that would be inconvenient to the gingerbread making. So Maria and Frank and the kids are watching this weird feral law student they forcibly adopted go through every single stage of grief in a two minute span, wonder how he made it through life so far on his own, and Maria wrangles the phone from him and calls Foggy back and politely tells him that this is Maria Castle, matts basically a part of their family and has been staying with them through the holidays, they've heard so much about foggy, won't he come visit? How about tomorrow at two? They're making gingerbread today.

Matt: MARIA

Matt is panicking. Foggy knows he doesn't have a family. Foggy is his family. Foggy has unlocked his tragic backstory. Foggy is going to wonder how he acquired a family in like a two and a half week span.

Foggy is panicking. He knows Matt doesn't have a family. He has unlocked matts tragic backstory. Matt was in their fucking Christmas cards because he has no family's Christmas cards to be in.

Maria is not panicking. They're taking a step back and making gingerbread now. Take deep breaths, Matthew.

FOGGY NELSON'S THEORIES ABOUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HIS BEST FRIEND (ABRIDGED):

Matt has started a polycule with a suburban couple and is raising their children with them now.

Matt was switched at birth and that's his newly discovered real family and he just never told Foggy.

Matt has been kidnapped by a family in the suburbs and they've enslaved him to make gingerbread with their children.

Which is true, weirdly enough.

Matt is having a spiraling panic attack because while he's like, not on deaths door anymore, he's still healing and clearly beat to shit and foggys going to think the castles did it and freak out and he doesn't have a lie for this prepped. And the castles are like "okay okay but, quick point, you've even prattling on about this kid for like, a minimum of four hours per day, you are more likely than not in love with him, have you considered the truth"

And Matt doesn't know what to do with that, is the thing.

Foggy comes by. He is four hours early. He arrived immediately after he got the address. Maria is lovely and kind and welcoming. Frank pumps his arm firmly and is built like a brickshit house and sort of intimidating.

Matt is absolutely beat to shit.

Foggy: AHAHAHA HEY BUDDY IMMA GIVE YOU A HUG BECAUSE I MISSED YOU AND LOVE YOU SO MUCH IN THIS THE SEASON OF GOODWILL AMONG MEN. did they do this to you cough twice for yes

Matt: oh for the love of god.

And the problem is. For a family that commits felonies. They're weirdly open about that fact.

Foggy: how did Matt end up staying with you

Lisa: oh we gave him Stockholm syndrome after kidnapping him

matt: ahahaha kids say the darndest things

Frankie: no really dad kept having to drag him off the windowsill when he tried to climb out and we had to be extra welcoming to him so he'd stop trying to escape

Matt: AHAHAHA KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

Foggy told his cop friend Brett to be on standby before he came here and now he's rapidly wondering if he needs to actualize that.

There's a good deal bit more after that, but this is getting long. There's emotional honesty. There's homosexuality. There's confessions about superpowers that Matt may or may not have. There's discussing trauma.

There's the fucking shadow government showing up to recruit Matt.

The thing is that Frank Castle is one of the best military operatives, like. Ever. And SHIELD was interested in recruiting that. And they thought, hey, saving his kids may do that. And they sent Hawkeye to infiltrate the mercenaries that had taken them.

Except they were fuck-off guns there and while he could take them all out if it was just him, he'd have to be 90% crazier of motherfucker than he actually is to try that shit with two kids in the line of fire.

And then an absolutely crazy motherfucker showed up and did exactly that. Caught his arrow mid-backflip. Kicked his ass too. It was sort of sick as hell. He hasn't met anyone so good at hand to hand since black widow.

They couldn't not recruit that guy.

And like. They found him. They found him really easily. The castle family kidnapped him. It was kind of obvious.

So Clint and Coulson roll up with the recruitment pitch and Clints like "hey, haha, I'm Clint, you stabbed me, wow you're like, completely insane, I mean that literally and in a figurative impressiveness sense, want to be best friends" and matts a fucking centimeter from launching himself out the window and starting a new life in Mexico.

And coulson's good at what he does. He can tell that matts not at all buying what he's selling, is more than a little freaked out at the idea of being identified as enhanced, and is almost definitely a former child soldier if their background was accurate about who took him from his orphanage for a few months. He also knows that Matt's abilities are too unique and too useful to just walk away from them. Nothing can be hidden from him. And if a fucking nuke is missing and they need someone to sniff it out, they need to be able to set Matt loose on a city for it. So he makes the pitch of "what if I keep you out of all databases, tell no one your name, and have you as a strictly as needed member of the roster," to which Matt replies with something along the line of "you can go and get fucked with you fascist shadow agency bullshit, you fucking totalitarian nightmare freaks, you try and drag me off to your freak show org to be a fucking dog on a leash for your illegal agency and I'll bite your goddamn face off, the world would have to end for me to come within a hundred godforsaken feet of you," which is… a coarse but technically affirmative answer that Coulson takes to mean as "Yes, if the world is ending, I will come to your agency." He honestly tells him that he'll keep matts secret and leaves. And Matt is still considering the Mexico plan but decides that he has a family to keep him here now in foggy and the castles and decides to risk staying. And that's that.

Which leads into my semi-crack fic of Matt being in the original Avengers, which I won't subject you to here. but some highlights:

Matt misses the first day of world-saving because he took off the second the SHIELD guy came by to pick him up. He managed to hide for 27 consecutive hours before they dragged his ass to the helicarrier.

He wasn't briefed at all because they ask him if he read the files they gave him and he just tosses them on the table and asks "does this look like fucking Braille to you." He repeatedly threatens to sue them for a lack of ada compliance.

He keeps getting stuck in rooms because this nightmare space ship only uses screens for everything, including door handles.

The hulk: *is the hulk*

Matt, has a stick: WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT

Tony: in a few minutes I'll know every secret SHIELD has ever had

Matt, has listened to at least eight top secret HYDRA meetings since being locked into this fucking hell ship: MHMM

They save the day, he's in a mask, the press asks them all whats next for the avengers and he's like "well I have a day job, I'm going home" and just. Walks away.

Three weeks later he starts fighting crime of his own volition and whenever anyone mentions hey is it maybe that avenger fellow he replies to the official inquiries with "oh no you see I have a day job" which should not work but does

Of course, Matt learning about HYDRA leads into my other semi-crack fic involving Matt simply immediately telling Captain America about the fucking Nazi's, and Cap rediscovering his life's passion, which is punching some fucking Nazi's. Except, he really needs Matt to spy on HYDRA for this to work, and Matt's identity is still almost entirely secret even within SHIELD and he doesn't want to endanger that. So they embark on introducing everyone to Matt Murdock, his totally normal, blind attorney boyfriend who is not at all a superpowered ultimate spy who happens to be secretly a very reluctant Avenger. It is now a fake dating AU.

#daredevil #christmas with the castles

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 3 months

Text

x g l a s g o w g r i n n e r

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!OC / 2.1k words

Soap’s always been a little too comfortable playing at violence, always gone-bright when he can turn the threat of it into a promise. Joke’s on the world at large: Special Agent Bordelon’s into that shit.

Or: Soap pulls a knife on a stranger for being a creep, because he’s from the brutal street stabbing capitol of the UK and that’s just how you say “Hi, hey, hello—back the fuck off.” And a million kisses to @lunarvicar for encouraging my bullshit! LOVE YOU NAT 🫶

It is never hard to run with Soap and keep his breakneck pace—the only thing that had been difficult was adjusting to the fact that someone else could finally keep up with hers. It’s a stomach-thrilling shock to look from the corner of her eye, and find the blur of his burly shape there, winking and clicking his tongue without breaking a sweat.

Bordelon is soft for the Scot sook, god forsake the shit out of her.

He’s landed in D.C. on medical leave, a broken collarbone leaving his arm in a sling, and the first thing he’d done—after kissing his way up her neck to the spot behind her ear that made her skin sing and her palms sweat—was sling his good arm around her neck, pulling her in close, and nibbling her earlobe. “Christ, s’it always pishin’ it doon here, too?”

“Naw,” she laughed back, reaching to tangle their fingers together on her chest, his backpack slung over her shoulder, “just October, couillon.”

“Ohh, talk that dirty, fake French to me, mah cherry,” he mock-growled, which just earnt himself a pap! of the palm to his cheek. All play, no sting, and he beamed.

That night burns down to the coals—traipsing back to her apartment, showing off the ugly bruise that bleeds does from his neck to his bottom-rung rib, kissing and touching and figuring out a way to fuck that doesn’t hurt him too-too much.

(The man likes a little ache in it, here and there. Calls dichotomy in that blessed, rock-fall accent. Ratios of sweet to sour, black to white, sun and night. As if he had any more concept of balance and moderation than she.)

He lies across the bed in that silly-ass sling, watching her bitch her smart TV a blue-streak while wearing one of his threadbare navy t-shirts and nothing else. Rubs the spot at the bottom of his sternum, listening to rain slap heavy sheets against the old windows, and says, “Perdita.”

“Don’t you full name me,” she warns, shaking her head, because it is an ill-fitted address. For him, she is Hen, or Perdie, in much the same way he is her Johnny, Jean, or John-boy. A thing you love is all in how you name it, and their names are softened and held close; in the way of lovers who began as friends, once they were strangers no more.

“We’re getting married ‘fore I ship back tae Glasgow,” is how he finishes his thought, and Bordelon turns on her hips, back and forth, vaguely pointing the remote at the screen. He gives her a challenging tooth-sharp smirk. “Thought I should warn you.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” She wonders if she should count this a proposal, or call his bluff, and then she thinks—might as well nail both options to the fuckin’ wall while she’s got the knife. “We go our way onto the courthouse tomorrow. Keep it simple, ça c’est bon?”

International marriage is never that simple, though, and they’re both the wiser to it. But the sentiment is pretty, and it sparks amongst the hard-bought bonfire that lives in the depths of her chest, flames rising and licking to glorify his name. So, they call it an engagement, and Soap pulls a turn-around she doesn’t expect, turning his phone off to pull a shade of night over only the two of their heads.

He’s no family to call, apart from his 141, and even then, there’s a hesitance to his hands. Her man—her bombastic, beautiful bastard—could not stand to be a burden, no. A nightmare that is for him, himself. Even if he were to reach out with the utterly, desolately rare delivery of good news (a phenomenon grown so rare that Neptune would sooner complete circuits around the sun these days), it would make his skin crawl.

Were he to have his way, his burdens would never leave the span of his shoulders to weigh down another’s back, even something as small as what might be an inconveniently timed but otherwise benign or even welcome call.

Come the gray and misting morning, he’s handsy and all-paws, even short a limb, groping for Bordelon as the woman rolls upright on the edge of the bed, pushing her sleep-tangled hair away from her face before it irritates her to death. His hand is warm, callused, and heavy with insistence as it settles into the dip of her violin hip, trying to pull her back into the warm expanse of his hard-packed body.

“Perdie, Hen,” he grunts, tone shading toward playful complaint, “the fuck’re y’doin’ awake?”

“Startin’ off,” she croaks, shaking her head, pushing at his fingers as they crawl closer to her cunt. “Stop that—arrête ça! You’re mangy this morning, T’Jean,” she laughs, pushing more firmly at his grip. “No, get up. Got a friend, knows her way ‘round immigration policy, and she always got an envie for brunch.”

“Brunch?” he questions, flat as buried flounder, falling back into her mountains of mismatched pillows with a dreadful look on that handsome face of his. “Darlin’, am no getting my fat ass outta bed, even for brunch. Feel kinda fruity even sayin’ it.”

“Even for to get us married?” she darts back, turning to look at him, drawing her fingers in circles through the hair on his lower stomach, cooing ridiculously in her rasp-rough drawl, “Even for me.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, throwing baby-dog eyes her way. “I mean, was hopin’ you’d take it serious—cannae tell wi’ your ass—but.” He swallows, one of those corny, I’m-about-to-fuck smiles threatening the corner of his mouth, the one that makes him all coy and keen, looking down at her pale, spidery fingers drifting closer and closer through his thick, dark body hair to his fattening cock. “Wouldn’t you rather stay in bed? Cold morning like this, I could keep you warm.”

She just barely brushes her fingers over his cock before she’s snap-sliding out of bed, copperhead quick, tossing over her shoulder, “Nope! Already sent an email, she knows we on the schedule,” on her way to the shower.

Soap drops back against the bed, rubbing his stubbled face, grunting, “Bordelon, you arsehole.”

But he can’t withstand the siren call of watching her in the shower, so, ever-faithful and ever-horned up, he follows after.

D.C. is about as filthied up with the sorrows of addiction and homelessness as any other place, Bordelon supposes. Can’t tell if it’s better or worse than any of the time she spent down New Orleans or Baton Rouge way. Colder, mostly. But it’s not all the time you need to know about the homeless or the drug addicts—keepin’ eyes on them, keepin’ them in your ears, at least at the sides.

Sometimes, it’s the fella in the khakis, with a puffer jacket and prescription glasses, his behaviors making his Rolex look cheap shit.

Bordelon and Soap slide last into the car before the doors pull shut, close to standing-room early in Crystal City as lunch hour approaches. All the suits are out their offices, scrounging for edibles, droning loud and monotone on their cells. Whole car is damp and humid from the downpour, human body heat causing an intense mugginess that crawls under the clothes to irritate the skin. It’s damn near enough to make Bordelon’s head spin, neck uncomfortable with sweat the way it was all them years down deep, deep in the south.

“No, sit doon,” Soap says, flapping the good arm great and wide, trying to get her to pop a squat on the only empty seat left, shaking his head. “Dinnae try bossin’ me, talkin’ wi’ that spooky-arse agency voice. Want away from you a minute.”

He dresses up chivalry as dismissal, and she can’t help but grin, even as she dawdles on sitting.

“What? You don’t like how Tiffany sounds? I swear, she’s perfectly nice. And outstanding in her field. She’s an accomplished agent, and her superiors are recommending her for a promotion,” she says, in that self-same agency voice of which he’d complained—rich and clear, dialect: nonregional, speech pattern: nondescript.

“Oof, fuckin’ hate that, stop,” he snorts, faking a shiver, but he does complain, “Hey, what? Where you goin’?” when she actually does move to sit down, tugging her up by the collar of her shirt just a bit to pop a grinning kiss against her mouth.

She doesn’t realize, at least not right away, that the tug at her collar disrupted her shirt. Just enough to make a few buttons slip, exposing more of her right tit under her open coat. Wore a thin top today, loose, but figured the dark fabric would hide any transparency. Hated tight clothes, hated bras, and never wore one; just figured her rack had spent thirty-three years being nothing to comment on.

Well. More than half a tit exposed was enough to catch the attention of the man who cheapens his Rolex by being the one to wear it.

Soap likes strange things because he, himself, is a strange thing, and Bordelon had thought to take him the two hours north to Philly to hit the Mütter Museum to see their medical abnormalities, because once their brunch is out, they’ll have an entire day to themselves. She’s busy showing him pictures, enticing him, when the woman next to her taps her thigh.

Like an alarm hollerin’ in her head, she starts running two tracks instant-like, leaning without looking as she whispers, “Yeah, chere?”

The woman is older, in maroon scrubs—some kinda tech, smell of jelly on her says maybe ultrasound—and nonslip clogs. Can’t quite see her name badge, but that seems on purpose, covered up by her fleece.

“That man over there—he’s takin’ pictures of you,” she whispers back, straightening her jacket needlessly as a hint, “just wanted you to know. Maybe tell your man?”

“Oh, no,” Bordelon hums, smoothly pulling her shirt back into place, “I tell him, he gonna light that stupid bastard up like a candle.”

“Who’s lightin’ me up like a candle?” Soap stage-whispers, all play, and Bordelon knows exactly how the next ten seconds are gonna go, and it plays out picture perfect to her premonition. Bordelon tells him don’t worry, I got it, the Good Samaritan in maroon scrubs informs him of the creep, and the smile on Soap’s face turns into a flesh-ripper grin as all the fun burns outta his gaze like a gas fire in a hyperbaric chamber.

“Oh?”

“MacTavish,” she warns him, “wait til the stop.”

“Naw, naw, naw. I’ll play nice, Hen.” That means, sure as shit, he won’t.

The switch knife he takes out his back pocket is deadly smooth, and so is his broad step to the stranger and his budget, Amazon-bought phone case, pushing straight into his man-spread legs.

The fact there isn’t an immediate uproar, but the man’s face is blanched and staring up at him with a shitload of oh fuck on his face speaks to Soap’s own scary-ass career, and Bordelon can barely see the tip of the knife pressing into the spot just below the stranger’s ribs.

“Hey, pal, mornin’,” Soap says, bright and easy as anything, voice not droppin’ even a note, head tilted real friendly. “Do me a favor, eh? Just drop your phone next t’my boot, yeah? We’ll just get this little creeper session done and dusted.”

Can’t even hear the clunk when it slides out of the man’s limp hand, and it’s even quieter when the heel of Soap’s boot shifts over to destroy the screen, grinding it to dust.

“Good man,” he says, pulling the knife back to close it and slide it into his sling. “Next stop, you’re off. But you’re gonna leave your phone on the floor. Hope you dinnae eat shet on the way home to your ol’ lady.”

Bordelon resists the urge to slap a hand over her face, but when Soap kicks the phone back to her, she catches it under the toe of her boot, catching the expression of the tech to her side, unsurprised but impressed. Must have herself a man like Soap, waiting for her to make it home.

“Sorry ‘bout the screen, Perdie. Think you can get in there and delete his shet still?” Soap asks, tone a bottom lip pout, and Bordelon nods, tucking her fingers into the back of his belt before snaking them up under his shirt, swirling her fingertips into his back dimples.

“Hah. You know it, Johnny,” she hums, looking up at him from under her lashes. It’s a tenderness, sweet and true, taking up space between her lungs. Mad bastard. Crazy motherfucker. Loony bitch. When he looks back at her, he curls his fingers under her jaw, looking relieved. Poor thing knows hit dog hollers, and he long ago stopped yelping when he was struck. He’s looking to be told he didn’t do something bad. But she finds his pace, she always does. Of course, she did.

But that goes beggin’ the question: what’s a hellhole-heart like her supposed to do with a love like this?

Tag List: @alittleposhtoad @skinnyazn @dotcie @snail-eggs @parttimeprophet @kastlequill 💖💖

#john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap MacTavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap call of duty #soap x oc #call of duty mwii #call of duty #mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod mw2 #oc: Bordelon #dunno what else to tag this as #my work #enjooooyyyyy 💃👯👯‍♀️👯‍♂️🕺🏻

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 month

Note

ash i love vince so much he is my number 2 babygirl (antoni number 1 babygirl forever)

i would like to formally request some vince having a Bad Time, either past stuff with owen or present with recovery being a bitch

because there is nothing better than lovely characters having bad times that they absolutely do not deserve

CW: Alcoholism, withdrawal/cravings, alcoholic anger, Vince and Jameson both PTSD-ing all over the place, guilt

Oh, poor Vince. Takes place post-the Same Bed Arc, after Vince is living with Nat and Jameson.

Vince doesn't even look up when he hears Jameson stop in the doorway. He just pours a few shots worth of the gin into the glass, staring fixedly down at it. The liquid, clear as water but with the herbal scent washing over him like a welcome spring rain, spreads over the ice with those gentle cracks he knows better than his own heartbeat.

God, it looks good.

His hands don't shake, now. His heart doesn't race. He doesn't feel sweaty, or upset, or like he'll be sick.

He just feels like he's staring at the solution to all his problems, and all he has to do is swallow it down.

This should feel awful - he knows it should. It should taste awful, there should be something to remind him of the damage he does to himself every time he drinks again. He should hear his sponsor speaking in the back of his mind, he should hear the voices of the others at the meetings he goes to - one for alcoholism, one for survivors of sexual assault, twice a week there's movie star Vincent goddamn Shield among the normal people and admitting he's barely human, just a wreck that only survived Owen Grant because Nat decided she gave a fuck about him for reasons Vince still doesn't understand.

Here he stands, a hollow shell wearing a nice face who let someone else suffer in his place and was grateful for it for far too long.

Kauri hates him but it's nothing compared to how much he hates himself.

Vince lifts the glass, hesitating at the last second with the cool rim just touching his lower lip. Gin smells like blacking out and right now he could use the blessed darkness, hangover be damned.

He can worry about that when the headache kicks in tomorrow morning.

He realizes he's waiting for the sickening crawl of guilt at letting Nat down, at-... at letting himself down. Maybe that will come later, but right now... He feels goddamn good. Settled. Calm.

He and Jameson meet eyes just as he tosses the drink back, three large swallows of juniper-scented gin down his throat like water, leaving only the ice cubes behind.

The burn is perfect.

He pours himself another drink, feeling the warmth slowly spread through his chest to his shoulders, eyes briefly closing. God, it feels like goddamn heaven.

He looks up.

Jameson is still standing there in the doorway, looking oddly soft in a loose sweater that's far too big for him and a pair of old jeans that probably cost a dollar at a yard sale and even that was too much. Vince has jeans that distressed, somewhere.

His cost more than five hundred dollars.

He chokes on the next drink from trying not to laugh.

Jameson's eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Vince takes another sip, eyes half-closed, letting himself take it slow this time and really enjoy the taste.

He'd honestly been surprised the little liquor store down the block even carried this brand of gin. Not that he wouldn't have bought whatever he could get, when he stood there feeling like he would die if he had to go another day, but still. It's nice to have seen his favorite stuff, top shelf, pricier than it had any right to be. It's not even that good, but it's still his favorite. It still tastes, to him, like the nights he sleeps without nightmares, few and far between.

Gin tastes like those nights he gets to sleep at all.

The cashier had looked surprised as she wiped off the dust and rang it up for him. Then, with a shy smile, she'd asked him if anyone ever told him he looked a lot like Vincent Shield. He'd been kind of sad she didn't card him - it would have been nice to see the look on her face when she saw his name.

Instead, he paid in cash, laughed, and told her the standard I get that a lot, actually.

Jameson doesn't move closer, or leave. "It looks like you're fucking yourself up," He says, lingering in the doorway. "You can't just start drinking again. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I sure as hell can." Vince laughs, but it's a bitter sound. He licks the gin lingering on his lips, then gestures at the bottle. "Have some with me."

He's caught, for just a moment, when he sees Jameson wearing an expression Vince has never seen on him before. He looks... nervous. Afraid, almost, instead of angry.

"I-I don't want to," Jameson says, but there's a way he says it that makes Vince think he'd drink if he offers again. Maybe he wants to, or maybe he just doesn't want to make Vince mad.

If he commanded it, if he gave an order... Jameson would be as he's told, wouldn't he? Damn, that would be some power to have over someone.

This must be why Owen liked it so much.

No.

He won't think about Owen right now.

Vince gulps down liquid until he's breathless, almost panting. The warmth is like the familiar cradle of a softer reality settling in. He makes himself slow down this time, picking up an ice cube and sucking the juniper taste right off it before crunching it with his teeth.

"Vince." Jameson's voice gets harsher, and something seems to break his brief paralysis. He moves closer, grabbing the bottle and pulling it away when Vince puts a hand out to pour the third drink. "Fucking... look at me. What the fuck?"

Vince's hand just... hangs out there, reaching for a bottle that isn't where it was. He stares at the empty space, and feels that dark inside of him threaten to well up yet again. "What?"

Jameson swallows, his eyes moving to the glass, back to Vince's face. He steps backwards, and Vince watches the bottle go with him with a piercing need that could easily knock him off his feet if he weren't holding onto the back of a chair. Jameson clears his throat. "Aren't you... like, sober now?"

"Mmmn. Was. Got the like... three month chip thing and everything." He's gotten thoroughly wasted so many times in his life. Nothing relaxes him better than enough alcohol to force his body to stop living in constant, unending fear of who might hurt him next. "Right now, I am tipsy instead. In about an hour, I'm going to be absolutely fucked up. Give me back my gin."

Jameson's hand moves - then he jerks it back, taking a few steps backwards until he's back in the doorway. His eyes are on Vince's face, watching him with a total focus that Vince recognizes from the others he's worked with over the years - Jameson's just a trained pet, in this moment, watching to see if the master will be angry.

It makes him laugh again, more bitterly this time. Is he the master? Has he ever been his own master, let alone anyone else's?

"I... I can't do that," Jameson says, and Vince hears that he doesn't say no. When Vince moves towards him, he backs up a little more, and Vince comes to a stop just a foot or so away.

"Am... am I scaring you?" He asks, suddenly.

It wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to demand his drink again. Instead, this question that... that just sort of falls out of him like a waterfall.

Jameson's jaw sets and his eyes narrow. "You're not doing shit to me," He snaps, but Vince knows he's really saying yes.

Is this why people buy pets? So they can see something pretend not to be scared, and know they're the monster not just under the bed, but in it?

"Oh," He whispers. "What is it? Why are you scared? I'm just a drunk asshole, why are you scared of me?"

Jameson bristles, but then he offers - as if it's pulled out of him against his will - the softest explanation. "Brute and Robert got drunk all the time. I know what happens when-... when people get this kind of drunk."

There's a look in his eyes Vince has seen before in Kauri's. Not fear of him, not directly, but fear of someone like him, maybe. Fear of having demands made that can't be denied.

Is this how Owen felt, every time Kauri had to playact the loving boyfriend with bruises on his wrists and terror making his heart race? Is this how it feels to have power over somebody else when you can't even control yourself?

It's... it's good, almost.

It feels better than he thought it would.

"Back up, Shield," Jameson hisses, like a cat spitting and arching its back, ready to attack with claws and sharp teeth not because it's confident in victory but because it's so small it has to fight to have even the slightest chance to survive.

Vince looks him over, reading with an actor's expertise how he's projecting a confident swagger he never feels, how the irritation layers itself so carefully over a vulnerability that he sees as weakness. Vince has lived that way, too, since he was twenty-one, since his best friend turned out to be a rapist who wanted Vince to himself, since he started drinking to forget every single night and putting on the perfect face during his days.

They both survived, didn't they?

Jameson just did it by fighting his way out, and Vince by pretending to be someone he wasn't until nobody knew who he actually was, and that's a way of surviving, too. Wear another face, and make sure no one sees the fear in your real one, so they can't refuse to help you... because you've never asked.

"No." At least one of them can say it. Although that makes Vince's heart twist with ugly guilt, the petty cruelty of the thought. "Give me my gin," Vince says, pitching his voice low, and holds out his hand. "Now, Jameson. Give it to me."

"I can't." The strength is gone from Jameson's voice, and he looks at Vince with those dark eyes searching his own, trying to make himself understood. "If you drink, your-... your body's not used to it anymore, if you drink the same amount you'll fucking kill your stupid liver."

"What do you care about my liver?" Vince's voice drops low, almost a whisper. "What do you care about me, about my goddamn joke of a life, huh? What the fuck do you care? Why should anyone care?"

There's a flicker of something in Jameson's eyes - recognition, maybe. Something that lights up, just for a second, before the other man shoves Vince to the side with sudden violent strength and stalks to the sink, turning the bottle over and pouring that expensive artisan gin right down the drain.

"No!" Vince's voice is a ragged shout as he lunges after him, but it's too little too late.

Jameson's foot kicks out and slams into Vince's calf, sending him stumbling, clawing desperately as the gin is gone, glug glug glug, down into the pipes, disappearing towards the ocean.

Rage and terror fight in Vince's mind in a sudden white noise and he gets to his feet, grabbing Jameson by the arms and squeezing as hard as he can, shoving him back across the room. He hears Jameson hit one of the chairs, the clatter of wood and Jameson's grunt of pain as both hit the ground hard. The bottle is in the sink, and even when Vince scrambles to pick it back up, there's less than an inch of gin left.

He sucks it down, and only once he's gotten that final drop does he suddenly go still.

Oh.

There's the guilt and the horror and feeling sick at himself, just... twenty minutes too late. He sets the empty bottle carefully down, and then turns slowly around to look at Jameson.

Jameson sits on the kitchen floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. His face is pale, making the scar that twists the corner of his mouth stand out even more. His hair is nearly grown back in now, the bald patches hidden by the rest.

Vince exhales in a rush. "Oh, hell. Jameson-" He holds out a hand.

Jameson flinches.

Vince pulls his hand back, backing up until his back hits the edge of the sink. "Right. Okay. I'm-... I'm sorry Jameson-"

"Yeah." Jameson's voice is gruff, all the vulnerability and fear wiped away as soon as he realizes it's showing. He gets to his feet, shoulders protectively hunched, arms crossed in front of himself defensively. "Whatever. Sure you are. Drink yourself to death, shitbag, if that's what you want."

"I'm so sorry."

Jameson's jaw works. "... Everybody's always sorry. Then I get fucking hit again." Then he turns and walks - limps, really, his knees threatening to give out with every step - away. Vince stands there, frozen, listening as he makes his slow, painful way up the stairs.

Vince stares at the place he was for a while - he isn't sure how long. The gin is sinking its velvet claws into his mind, and he's drunker than he should be after only two drinks.

But then, it's been months.

Months, he made it without taking even a sip.

He swallows, again and again, and then pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, finds a contact, and presses the button to make the call.

The phone rings until he's certain it'll go to voicemail, before a voice he knows as well as his own is in his ear.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I-I need to talk to you," He stammers, his heart cold. "Please. Please. I-I've been drinking. I need... I need help."

There's a pause.

"From... me?"

"Yeah... yeah. You'll-... I need somebody who won't be nice to me-"

"Oh, well, if there's anything I love it's the chance to be mean to you, let me drop my entire life to come listen to you whine about yours."

"Please."

An exhale. "Whatever. Yeah, okay. I'll be over there in like... half an hour? An hour, maybe. Drink some water and I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't leave the house."

"Thanks... thank you, Kauri."

Kauri hangs up.

Vince pours himself a glass of water over the leftover gin-soaked ice, sipping it, barely flavored with a hint of the liquor he wants so badly. He rights the chair he'd accidentally shoved Jameson into, and listens to the creaking floorboards and muffled cursing above him as Jameson makes his halting painful way from stairway to his room, a couple thumps when he clearly falls and had to force himself back upright, until the pacing abruptly stops when he must have collapsed into his bed.

He hears the gentle patting of Trash Cat's paws as she leaves her place on the living room couch and follows him, too, her soft meowing until Jameson opens his door to let her come in after him. Then silence again.

Vince sits back down at the table, leaning over with his head in his hand, staring as the ice slowly melts, cooling the water around it.

He should have called his sponsor instead.

Whatever Kauri is about to say can only make this worse.

But he deserves it, anyway.

Vince doesn't move a muscle until he hears the sound of Jake's truck pulling into the driveway, crunching briefly over gravel before it's on the pavement again, when he raises his head.

Kauri walks in without knocking, stops in the doorway to the kitchen, and looks at him like his younger self ashamed of what he's grown into. Vince knows Jake must have driven him, but he's nowhere to be seen - maybe just staying outside, for now. He's clearly dressed for bed in a matching navy blue silk button-up and pajama pants, barefoot even.

"Hey," Vince says, weakly. The alcohol feels like poison now, not the soothing warmth it had been before. "I... I fucked up, Kauri."

"Yeah, I can tell just by looking at you, you're a goddamn mess." Kauri looks at Vince head-on, even though it still hurts him to do it, and Vince can see the flinch he suppresses as the headache kicks in. His blue eyes are identical to Vince's in nearly every way, except that Kauri's gaze has always been stronger. "What the hell did you do?"

"I got... I drank."

"Yep. I can see the gin bottle. Did you drink all of it?" Kauri's voice is flat and businesslike. It's like having his own younger self dressing him down, and somehow that feels... really good. Better than he thought it would.

"... No. Just a couple drinks. Jameson poured the rest out."

"Good for him." Kauri flickers a smile. "Where is he?"

"I-... I scared him."

"... you scared him?"

"Yeah. I was-... I wasn't-... I didn't mean to, but-"

"Shut up. All right. Tell me what you did. I'll fix it. This time, taking your place so I suffer for years while you run off and become obscenely wealthy is off the table, got it?"

Vince looks at him in horror only to see a surprising warmth in Kauri's smile. Not... not affection, but something like it. A wry compassion, maybe. Something else he doesn't deserve. "I don't know. I don't know if I can fix this, Kauri. I don't know."

"Well... I happen to the resident expert in trying to avoid dealing with your problems while making them all worse, so talk to me. Tell me what you did, start to finish. We'll figure out what comes next."

Vince lowers his head into his arms.

"Thank you," He says, muffled.

"Not enough thanks in the world, dumbass. Lucky for you I'm an amazing person who just happens to have spent most of my twenties making stupid drunk mistakes. So stop stalling and start talking."

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @autophagay

#whump #ptsd tw #alcholism tw #withdrawal tw #alcoholic whumpee #recovering whumpee #recovery whump #vincent shield is not a hero #erase to control #since kauri makes an appearance #jameson bb #box boy universe #drunk whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #briefly and not on purpose

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imtheindiekid · 1 year

Text

Maneater

Prompt: Reader is called a maneater and also the nigthmare of everyone who is rich, afraid of her getting them to bankrupt. But not her dear mommy.

Ship: Gwendoline Christie x fem!reader

Warnings: mommy kink, smut, pet names, praise kink, gwen being the filthy rich we all know she is; sub!reader and dom!gwendoline. Reader's love language is luxury. Age gap!, reader is not a minor! Leg riding (is that a thing? idk), spiting, eating out, subspace, aftercare, happy ending yesss. Long one shot but trust the process lmao.

A/N: Bare with me please, as english is my second language; sorry for any errors or repetitive words!

----

They at first thought it was only a joke, you saying that the real happiness was spending someone's money until there was not even one cent in their bank account; yeah, it was funny looking at you dreaming for something that seemed selfish and greedy. But not for you, who always knew destiny had something special for its beloved and eager child.

It became quite clear what life in purpose you had, at only six years old, when life was being a bitch and making your family drown in debts while their couldn't afford many of the things you and the rest of them were accostumed to. Those hard times were a reminder of how someone could be powerful or a simply slave of capitalism, and you were determined to never be under that power ever again.

So it may have been a joke for everyone else, when in truth it was only the beginning.

----

The first tries for you to reach your desires went awfully well, as you were such a charmer and the beauty gods had blessed you to be an extraordinary beauty, so it wasn't that hard to get started on your plans, but not enough to complete them. At least, they granted you mercy and placed a great opprtunity in your very greedy hands, giving you the chance to work at your city's country club.

Mostly men were the ones who you attracted, showing a sly smile when you passed near them or offering great amounts of tips when you assisted them; it was extremely fascinating how strangers paid you almost thousands for handing them a single towel or simply showing you off infront of their spouses, flirting without any shame.

It was absolutely magnificent.

For the most part, one could say, until one of your first victims fell down and all because of you. Poor guy claimed himself to be a new money and wealthy man, despite not having a massive fortune yet and still trying to make a name between the members of the country club. However, that didn't stop you to pursue him with clever words and seductive glances, innocently complaing about the low payment you always received and how you wished to be one of the women of that place, drink in hand and on a man's lap.

Your wishes came true, with him spending his money on you and trying to satisfy your most wild fantasies. He was in bankrupt two weeks later, ripped out of his memebership and screaming it was you who had all his money, a gold digger.

It was a very long and sometimes boring process, but the fun of watching how your series of victims tried to do the same and ended bankrupted never fail to make your materialistic soul happy. Yet you knew this was only child's play, and that the real deal would approach in time.

You will gladly wait for it.

----

Through the years a reputation formed around your name and rumor has it was all because your inclination for luxury, which it was all true. Love was never the main purpose of your adventure; all you cared about is to be filthy rich at someone's expenses.

Many nicknames were murmured everywhere you went, but the one who stuck and you actually liked was "maneater". The first time you heard it made you laugh at the accuracy of it; you really loved to devour men in the financial way.

Life was a little more brighter and you enjoyed every second of it, but it became way better when she came into it.

Destiny finally fullfied its promise of making you so damn wealthy by sending you a gorgeous blonde who was ten times richer than all of those men you left without any money together. And what it was better, she is a fucking superstar; alredy a name well know, with great looks and an endless amount of connections to every important person in almost every industry. You were totally besotted with her.

"Mommy will always make you happy, my sweet girl."

And oh fuck, you swear you could have moaned at the pet name she just gave you and the way she speaked with such soft and sultry tone on that first encounter. Of course she knew who you were, Gwendoline Christie was totally aware of that dreadful reputation of yours and the way you could make a fortune dissapear in a blink of an eye, but also aware of the fact that she was far more wealthy than those so called millionares you met trough your life.

For the first time, someone actually had the means to spend it all on your wants, and it made you to be a fool in love for this woman.

----

"Give a twirl for me, kitten. Mommy wants to see you."

"Anything for you mommy."

Gwen smiled at your answer, while sitting on one of the expensive couches the private fitting room had. Ever since the first meeting between you two, she became the perfect lover and mommy for you, always cherising her princess and making sure was happy at all times. And there you were, inside one of your favorite shops trying on the latest fashion with your mommy as your only audience.

'Cause yeah, you loved puting on a show for her.

The mid thigh dress looked absolutely stunning on you, hugging so exquisitely every curve your body posessed and showing those legs that you used to wrap around Gwen's hips when she was fucking you so hard and good. Naughty thoughts rised in your mischievous mind as you spun and let mommy take a look on you; she knew you knew you could feel her staring gaze going from head to toes, drinking on you beauty and lusting over you.

"What a good girl you are for me, aren't you? Always a pleaser for mommy. Come here darling."

You did not waste time on getting to her, kneeling between her slender legs and rubbing your cheek against the soft fabric of the trousers she wore that day; a hand sneaked to your chin and grabbed it with slightly pressure, a silent indication for you to open that pretty mouth of yours. It wasn't long enough when mommy had her face near you and spat inside your mouth, making you whimper at the sole action and earning a smirk from the older woman whe you swallowed rapidly.

"Mommy please-."

"Uh uh baby, no whining and just take what mommy gives you. Unless you want to be a bad girl."

"No mommy! I will be good, please, I want to be your good girl only!"

"That's what I thought."

The hand on your chin suddenly fell down and instead went to your hair, pulling it hard that it made you moan out of pleasure, feeling wetness driping between your legs. It was so deseperate not having something soothing the bubbling desire that rised beneath your body, only mommy could do that, and right now, she didn't seemed interested on doing it.

A cry erupted from your lips, while searching with your hips something to rut on, but stopped by Gwen's leg in the middle of it.

"Shh my little love, don't cry and listen to me. You will eat mommy out while riding her leg, but you musn't cum until mommy has. Understood?"

"Yes, yes mommy!"

As soon as she hear you, the blonde placed your face right in front of her covered pussy, which it did not last long when you avidly got rid of her trousers as well underwear by pulling them down enough for you to being on your task. KIsses and soft bites from thighs to her wet folds were earning you hums from the older woman, but it seemed wasn't enough effort for her, as she silently stated by closing the gap between her middle parts and your face. Moaning at it, you went straight at her clit, licking enthusiastically while teasing her labia with your fingers.

Then, a striking sensation rushed into your core, the feeling of pleasure coursing trough all your body when mommy's leg started to push against your own wetness, rubbing the already sensitive nub in the process.

"Fuck! Yes princess, you're doing it so well!"

You whimpered at the sound of Gwen's voice, praising you for eating her so good while riding with desperation her leg in order to build an orgasm, even though you weren't allowed to do that yet. But you determined and stubborn as you were, really wanted to cum, and so made you plunge two fingers inside mommy's, causing her to scream and you to briefly look up. The sight of the older woman pinching one of her nipples trough her blouse while panting your name was arousing and unholy; you loved it.

Sensing you watching her, she returned it with a lustful look and a moan of your pet names. Then, with the hand still tangled in your hair, pushed you again to meet her hips, causing you to whine once more and squirm above her leg. You knew she was close, by the way her walls were clenching and her breath came out rapidly, how her hips buckled erratic against your fingers at every thrust.

And you? At the edge of an orgasm but not quite there yet, with your panties completely ruined from your moist.

"Y/N, yes baby!"

It only needed a couple of thrusts to mommy finally reach her climax, cuming hard and long while you eagerly taste her juices and slowly stop fucking her with your fingers. When she came down from her high, the blonde woman pulled you out to kiss you while still riding greedily her leg to your own orgasm; you couldn't keep it from coming, and all you did was cry and plead with your squeaks for mommy.

"You made me cum so good. Go on my darling, mommy's got you."

That's the only thing you needed for releasing the burst of pleasure inside you, sending you to a spiral of ecstasy and high squeaks while clinging onto the blonde woman. There are tears sliding trough your cheeks, red flush expanding in your face and bruised lips from the previous kiss. You apparently were deep inside your bubbly space that you didn't notice when they lifted you up to sit on Gwen's lap, embracing you in a tight hug.

Peppering your faces with soft kisses and caressing your back, Gwen was slowly trying to get you into reality again, the aftercare never forgotten even when you where in a semi-public place. It took you some time, but soon you were back in your normal but sleepy state.

"Mommy?"

"It's alright little flower, I'm right here."

You smiled at it, hugging her languidly by the shoulders and resting your less fuzzy head in her neck; a small kiss was placed in your hair as a return. Silence was slowly filling the room, the only sounds present the breaths from both of you and the lully of your lover's heartbeat. Only a murmur from you interrupted it.

"Mommy."

"Yes my dove?"

"I love you."

"I love you too Y/N."

----

The end (?)

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems x reader #brienne of tarth #gwen christie #miranda hilmarson #the sandman #captain phasma #lucifer the sandman #gwendoline christie x reader #imtheindiekid writes

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whyse7vn · 10 months

Text

DOWN BAD -

[ ot7 x reader ]

JOON4PRESIDENT

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

y/n: hi

tae: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

y/n: ?

tae: holy fuck ur so fucking funny😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭☠️😭

jimin: i BEG you let that man hit

at this point it’s embarrassing

tae: pls

jk: i think ur funny too

namjoon: shame is free

tae: idk what that’s supposed to mean

jk: it means shame is free i think

y/n: is that why you’ve been at my house for the last 2 weeks??

cuz you wanna hit??

yoongi: 2 weeks??

jin: down so fucking bad

jk: i thought tae was here cuz he missed us?

tae: I AM I SWAER

but if y/n let me hit in the time i was here i wouldn’t be mad

y/n: ur sick

hobi: why have you let tae stay in ur house for 2 weeks?

y/n: he FORCED his way in here

tae: not true jungkook willingly let me in

jin: jungkooks not even a real person so that doesn’t count

jk: i’m real

i think

jimin: i’m telling you he needed that 100k for rent

yoongi: taehyung homeless era

tae: I HAVE A HOME

y/n: ur not acting like it

tae: home is where the heart is

and my hearts with you bbg

y/n: leave

jk: am i real?

tae: are you a construction worker?

jk: no

tae: cuz ur a building

namjoon: what?

tae: 😉

@y/n

not you namjoon or jungkook

y/n: it’s hard

the life i live

hobi: hard like a criminal hard like the beat

tae: my rizz is out of this world it’s actually insane

jimin: do you know what rizz means?

bcs you can’t be fr

jk: isn’t rizz a type of cheese?

yoongi: this is my competition…

y/n: ur thinking of swiss cheese kook

jk: I AM

how did you know that??

y/n: can one of you guys come a get tae from us pls im begging you

jimin: i can’t read sorry

jin: i’m literally blind

hobi: 🫣

y/n: i fear his stupidness is rubbing off on jungkook

yoongi: i think he’s just naturally dumb as hell

jk: who

yoongi: see

y/n: plS my biggest fear in this life is waking up to furry jk

tae: ummm

that would have nothing to do with my influence

yoongi: call animal control maybe they’ll help you with tae?

tae: ??????

y/n: NAMJOON PLS UR MY ONLY HOPE PLS PLS PLS

namjoon: i’m not here

tae: CAN SOMONE DEFEND ME LIKE OMG???

jUNGKOOK TELL HER HER GREAT I AM

jk: he’s great

tae: UR NO HELP FUCK U

i’m gonna kill myself in front of you all in the most horrific way and change ur lives forever and NO amount of therapy will help you forget or move on

jk: ok i’m ready

tae: i’m leaving

y/n: god bless 🙏🏽

tae: ur obsessed with me get help

i hate you all

losers

gosh

fucking bitches the LOT of you

AWOOOOOOO

lone wolf era

jimin: what the fuck

namjoon: are you done?

tae: yeah :/

y/n: do you feel better now??

tae: as better as i can be in a situation like this :/

hobi: what situation?

tae: wdym?

jin: he has to be brain dead or something

tae: right hoseok stupid as hell

jk: i think jimin is talking about you bro

tae: jungkook ur young i wouldn’t expect you to understand

jk: ur right

y/n: they changed the korean age system isnt that crazy

jin: DON’T TALK ABOUT AGE

jimin: it’s a sensitive topic for him cuz he’s still old no matter what

namjoon: please

jk: i’m 25

jin: IDC SHUT UP

y/n: yikes

hobi: jungkook has been 25 for like 10 years

jk: that’s not true that makes no sense

hobi are you bad at maths?

hobi: don’t speak to me

tae: jimin you smell the best in the group

y/n: why are you smelling people?

hobi: furry

tae: after the loml ofc

jk: jennie?

tae: SHUT UP

jk: did you break up again???

tae: KICK HIM KICK HIMMM

jimin: what do i smell like?

tae: like vanilla i love it soOOOO much

it’s like a sweet vanilla but not so strong it overpowers ur senses it’s just right

i could eat you

jimin: i wish bitches i wanted said shit like this

but it’s just you

thx ig

tae: ???????

jin: that’s frfr creepy as hell tbh

why is he actually sniffing people is that not insane

jimin: don’t be mad you don’t smell like sweet vanilla

jin: i’m actually glad

look at what ur attracting

hobi: furries

jin: right

tae: 𝖘𝖍𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖚𝖈𝖐 𝖚𝖕

jk: WOAH

CALM DOWN TAE CALM DOWN TAE ITS OKAY ITS JUST US 😰😨😭

jimin: again what the actual fuck

tae: ur right i’m sorry i didn’t mean to get like that guys

jk: it’s okay

namjoon: they’re actually insane oh my god

y/n: i have seen a real decline in jungkooks mental state since the arrival of tae at our home

yoongi: again i think that’s just jungkook

y/n: no i know jungkook

jk: yeah she knows me

i know her

we have a connection you wouldn’t understand yoongi

y/n: and i know for a FACT he’s not that dumb

hobi: dumb dumb

jk: right i’m not that dumb

tae: WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY RN???

jk: wait

namjoon: tae go back to therapy

jimim: begging you

jin: awoman🙏🏻

tae: NO

I TOLD YOU LAST TIME

SHE LAUGHED AT ME

THE THERAPIST

I WONT I WONT I WONT

you can’t make me

it’s a free world

jk: you can buy the world??

yoongi: what do people see in you?

jk: whom?

y/n: LMAOOOO

namjoon: jungkook are you high rn?

jk: am i what?

namjoon: high

jk: hello

work on ur spelling joon

jimin: who tf is supplying him with this shit

jin: bet it was tae

tae: NO LOL

LOL

yoongi: so it was tae

y/n: HAVE YOU BEEN GETTING JUNGKOOK HIGH THESE LAST 2 WEEKS TAE???????

namjoon: this explains a lot

hobi: this is why he’s been messaging shit to my phone at like 2 in the morning

crazy

jk: who

tae: NO

LOL

y/n: HOW HAVE I NOT NOTICED???

jimin: right you dumb as hell tbh

namjoon: does it not smell??

jin: namjoon drug expert

tae: MAYBE HES BEEN TAKING EDIBLES

FROM SOMEONE WHEN YOU GO TO SLEEP???

LOL

yoongi: why are you giving ur self away like that

you really are stupid

jk: yeah stupid

yoongi: don’t ever agree with me again

jk: in y/ns bed rn

hobi: fight fight fight

yoongi: been there multiple times

jk: um ur lying

im here every night

i haven’t run into you in the last 4 months

tae: DONR TELL ME YOU LET JUNGKOOK HIT BEFOR ME OH MY GOD I CANT BREATHE RNNNNNNNNNNN

LIKE JUNGKOOK

ARE YOU FR .:’sk

omGGGH

NOOOSODODOD

jk: i’ve never hit a woman in my life

it’s not right pls don’t hit y/n

y/n: he comes to cuddle sometimes

yoongi: he does?

jk: everyday actually

she’s lying

jin: i’m gonna kill 14 puppies in-front of taehyung and see what happens

tae: why me

jin: you’re n need of a personality change

tae: i’m fine the way i am??

love urself and others will love you for you

we made a whole album about it?

jin: i’m not loving you for you tbh

and a LOT of people would say the same

tae: you guys are lucky i’m not sensitive

y/n: i’ve always been a lucky girly

hobi: you literally live with jungkook?

jk: yes?

hobi: nothing

jk: if you remember lmk ^^

tae: y/n do you have ugly man syndrome or something?

y/n: ??

tae: idk you just seem to enjoy being friendly with ugly men

y/n: never once have i said i’ve enjoyed ur company

tae: ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY IM THE UGLY MAN??

y/n: you said it not me…

tae: anything jungkook can do i 110% do it better

unless it’s lack common sense

i’m pretty full of common sense

jimin: that’s actually not true

y/n: maybe that’s what gets jungkook cuddles?

jk: when?

yoongi: being stupid?

y/n: yeah maybe he’s a loser and i find it endearing

yoongi: lol

hobi: me when i’m jealous

tae: IM ACTUALLY THE BIGGESt LOSER AROUND

TELL HER GUYS

namjoon: the biggest!

jimin: HE SOOOOOO DUMB ITS CRAZY

hobi: i feel the need to kick him every time i see him type of loser

jin: he’s such a loser actually i still bully him to this day

tae: not too much now

hobi: okay i can’t do this anymore let’s address the elephant in the room

jimin: namjoon…

namjoon: wtf?

y/n: don’t be mean

jk: are you guys in all in a room without me?

tae: u-um >.<

jin: did he just stutter through text?

y/n: pls stop

jk: where is the elephant??

jin: jungkook go to bed or something ur pissing me off now

jk: sleep well jin

namjoon: gn jin

jin: don’t feed into his shit namjoon

jk: y/n are you with the elephant?

yoongi: y/N aRe yOu wItH tHE eLepHaNt

jimin: what the beef omg?

tae: what is this elephant hobi-senpai ?!!!

i’m sitting on the edge of my seat

♡ (⇀ 3 ↼)

jk: me 2

hobi: tae you need to learn how to get a fucking grip and shut the fuck up

…

FYI JK AND Y/N ARE LIVING TOGETHER FOR THE FUNZIES OKAY? FOR THE GIRLIES THAT DO NOT KNOW

the rest of the members have their own houses and are lonely losers

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

Text

| A FISH OUT OF WATER | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ main masterlist ║ series masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 4.1k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), negative body image, negative self-talk, the torment of dressing rooms and trying on clothes, trying to get some healing accomplished and learn to love your body, Joel is a nasty lil slut who kneels at the altar of plus sized!fem!neighbor’s pussy

| SYNOPSIS: Joel invites you over for a swim, and your plain onepiece swimsuit isn’t gonna cut it anymore. One new swimsuit later, and things get real wet. Spoiler: Splish splash bitch we gon’ smash.

✧this is the second installment of a oneshot collection but can be read as a standalone✧

✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

When Joel invited you to go swimming, you considered claiming you had horrible stomach cramps and couldn’t make it. Instead, you did your best impression of a mature adult and accepted his offer. You wouldn’t have to see yourself in swimwear if you just didn’t look down, and you could ogle a shirtless Joel. All in all, there were worse things to endure.

You reluctantly unpack the single piece of swimwear you owned: a dowdy black onepiece. Black was the most slimming color, right? It wasn’t doing a whole lot for you on that front, but it was a better option than the usual old lady floral prints that plagued the onepiece section.

You liked to think of your suit as observing Victorian mourning etiquette: veiled in an abundance of black fabric, publically grieving a body that would never be the right type or shape for anything other than full coverage swimwear.

The smack of your flip flops against his concrete patio came to a halt when you saw him. There was your fine as fuck DILF situationship leaning over the edge of the above ground pool he’d got up and running once the idea of having you over for a swim had popped into his head.

You had anticipated “Dad Swimming Trunks”, the kind that had cargo pockets galore for no fucking reason and stopped at the upper calf. You’d assumed this just based on his age, but you should have known better. This man was always surprising you in the best of ways, and he was certainly not your average middle-aged man.

You drink in the sight of his quads where the hem of his trunks sit. It was a heaven-sent style that gifted you with more of his body to gawk at. God bless whoever convinced him to get those, although you know would be thirsting over him just the same if he had been wearing the official “Dad Swimming Trunks.”

He smiled and waved when he saw you, and he shifted right into his usual stance: hands resting on his hips with one slutty little knee popped out to the side. God fucking dammit. Was it too late to claim gastrointestinal distress? Joel whistled approvingly at your funeral shroud of a bathing suit, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and giggle. What this man saw in you, you couldn’t say.

When you complimented his trendy trunks, this motherfucker had the nerve to act shy about it. His daughter had teased him about his “old man swimsuit” apparently and harassed him until he got something “cooler.” Ah, so you weren’t completely off base when you assumed he’d had the Dad Swim Uniform.

Bless his little menace bully of a daughter you laugh to yourself. Your amusement fades when you consider that you are the only one in geriatric themed swimwear. You ignore the negative voice in your head and focus on the curves and dips of Joel’s body.

The two of you swam and relaxed in the pool for a couple of hours. It actually felt nice to be buoyed by the water a little bit as you wrapped your legs around Joel’s waist and made out, or when he grabbed you from behind and let you float back and forth with his swaying as you rested your head on his shoulder. It felt nice to pretend for a little bit that you were lighter than you actually were.

You hate how you still feel timid about yourself around Joel when he has only ever made you feel amazing - emotionally and physically. If anyone had earned you letting down your walls of insecurities, it was Joel. He always managed to reframe any negative thing you had to say or think about yourself.

Getting out of breath while you rode him? “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Workin’ this cock so good you can’t even breathe. Gonna fuck all the air right outta you, sweetheart.”

Frowning at the bold colored BMI number on your check-up report? “BMI is horseshit. Don’t mean anything. Thought that you’d know that, bein’ an expert at numbers and all.”

Trying to talk him out of getting ice cream because you couldn’t “afford the extra calories”? “Got you a swirly cone so you can pretend its my cock and show me how you wanna lick it before I fuck your brains out later.”

Not wanting to sit in his lap for movie night because you were going to smush him? “If you don’t come park that ass on my lap right this second, I’m not gonna pretend to like the romcom you picked.”

Not wanting to sit on his face because you would suffocate him? “Goddamn, wouldn’t that be a glorious way to go. Promise me you’ll put it in my obituary. Add somethin’, too, about ‘died doing what he loved.’”

Joel was in a league of his own in terms of how he approached your body and your thoughts about it. You’d never had such a neutral yet admiring partner. He never fetishized your figure like some guys had done in the past. “Chubby chasers” as they were known. The term was crude and minimizing of said “chubby’s” personhood, but it was unfortunately a fitting vibe for how most guys treated you and anybody over a size 12.

Joel never tried to claim that you weren’t fat. Fat was just something you had on your body; it wasn’t your primary descriptor, and it didn’t define you. “Come on, baby, you’re not fat!” was something you had heard so many times from hookups and boyfriends. But why was that such a bad thing anyway? Couldn’t you just be fat and it not be such a horrible thing? To just exist in your own body? It was a bit hypocritical to ask of them, of course, when you were your own number one slanderer.

Joel just saw your body as, well, your body. It wasn’t some complicated thing that needed to be navigated tactfully to avoid upset. It was just one facet of you, and he liked your body because it was a part of you. He so often paid positive attention to your body because he wanted to. It wasn’t some show of affection to help boost your confidence, although it certainly helped. He liked it just as he liked your sense of humor, your financial smarts, your taste in restaurants, your little quirks…

It also didn’t hurt that he was an absolutely voracious lover, and a vocal one at that. He had some incredibly creative dirty talk that flooded your basement fast. This man could not get enough of you. New positions, new places, new everything. It was like he wanted to experience you in every combination possible, and you never turned him down.

And then that soft, tender side of him that was equally transfixing. The way he always pulled you closer to cuddle. The way he nuzzled kisses along your neck when he’d stop behind you for a moment while you were washing dishes at the sink. The way his large hands would trace mindless patterns against the inside of your thigh when you were sitting watching TV together.

The two of you weren’t officially an item, but the “we sure do a lot of relationship things for two people who aren’t in a relationship” list was growing every week. You had a feeling that Joel was more than ready to head down that path, but you still had reservations about getting into anything serious after your last bad breakup. You’d been in a long-term relationship that was about to take a turn into wedding bells and honeymoons but instead took a sharp left into “I’m throwing this years long relationship down the drain because I want to fuck somebody younger, skinnier, and better than you.”

As much as you’d love to say that you had moved on and healed from the pain that your ex-fiance Michael’s cheating had brought you, it would have been a lie. It had swallowed you up and spit you out squarely into “I’m never going to be good enough for anyone” territory. Though Joel had never given any indication that he was interested in anything but you, the fear of rejection and abandonment still loomed.

But Joel had a curious knack of worming his way into your heart and sprinkling little bits of confidence there. That’s why when you were meandering through a big chain retailer, you took a quick peek at the swimsuits they had on display. The full coverage styles that you always went for were all the way to the back, where big girls could run and hide as they shopped with shame.

A bright pink something catches your eye as you lazily scan the offerings. You can’t make out the style very well over the display rack in the middle of the section, so you venture around it to get a better look. It was absolutely adorable. Hot pink with little embroidered daisies. Your face falls, though, when you realize you are looking at a two piece with very stringy closures.

You bet Joel would like it …. If he were here with you right now, he would all but demand you at least try it on before deciding you hated it. You sigh and grab the one furthest back before heading to the dressing rooms.

God did you hate dressing rooms. There probably wasn’t another setting that had given you so many Vietnam style flashbacks than dressing rooms. Sometimes these assholes would even put in 3 slanted mirrors side by side so you had no choice but to observe yourself from more angles. Bunch of sick, twisted bastards.

You face away from the mirrors while you tie the strings around your hips and back. If you saw yourself getting into this thing, there’s no way you’d even finish putting it on all the way before you gave up. You spin with your eyes closed, facing the mirrors and counting backwards from 5 to work up the nerve to open your eyes.

Well, Joel would definitely like it, so at least there was that. The first thing your eyes flew to was your pudgy lower belly sticking out from the sides of the bottom. It butted right up to your round, jiggly, cellulite-speckled thighs. Adjusting the straps on your hips didn’t do much to magically shrink your bulgy bits, but it sort of looked like a sexy, teasing gesture when you did it.

You stand there with fidgety hands on your hips and scrutinize your reflection. You were so used to seeing yourself all covered up that this completely normal bikini made you feel like you were sporting two bandaids and a cork. A public indecency call would definitely be made to the police if you ever stepped out in this thing.

You sigh and tilt your head to the side as if it’s going to give you a more positive vantage point. The daisies looked so perfect against the pink. It was such an adorable swimsuit. You twist your hips side to side in a small swivel motion and take in the way the little neon pink strings dance across your skin, like they’re begging to be pulled until they come apart and make the bottoms fall to the floor.

It was kind of cute. You try out that little pulling on the strings on your hips motion before letting them softly snap back against your skin. The way the strings grazed your hips was kind of nice. And maybe your tits actually sort of maybe looked good???

The trickling semi-positive thoughts were unexpected but welcome. Joel must be reworking your brain or something, rewiring it to be nicer. Like his reverence of you was being absorbed osmotically and making itself at home in your mind, internalizing and mimicking his adoration but in your own words and thoughts. You had your underwear on still to try on the bottoms, and it seemed like it would be enough of a buffer to brave taking a look at your ass in this thing. You turn and crane your head over your shoulder to see the back and immediately wish you hadn’t.

“UGH gross! You could eat a whole bowl of Cheerios out of those dimples on your ass!”

There was that inner voice of yours. No more trickle of nice, Joel-style thoughts. Now just a deluge of your well honed self-criticism.

You flip the tag in your hand and look over the print. It’s on sale. Before you can think about it too much and change your mind, you shimmy out of the suit and take it to the register.

Another scorching afternoon rolls around, and you work up the nerve to suggest some pooltime to help cool off..

“Hhmmm, how ‘bout we make it a skinny dip kinda thing?” Joel waggled his eyebrows up and down theatrically, but you know he is being dead serious.

“Skinny dip for you, maybe. More like a ‘chunky dunk’ for me,” you grumble. You are already letting the voice in your head get the better of your barely-there confidence.

Never missing a beat and always managing to reframe your disparaging commentary, Joel piped up, “Yeah I got a chunk that’s gettin’ chunkier thinkin’ about us naked in the pool, and I think I know just where I’d like to dunk–”

“Shutup and get changed, pervert,” you giggle as you stand from the patio chair. He joins in a chuckle and gives your ass a little slap before sauntering down your steps and over to his house.

“See ya in 5, sweetheart. Offer for skinny dipping is still on the table.”

You stifle another laugh and shake your head. God he was so goofy and adorable sometimes. You hope that his filthy, sexy side will be the one to emerge when you debut your new bikini. This time you would not be outright lying if you postponed your swim over tummy troubles. Your stomach flipped and lurched with nerves as you look yourself up and down in the full length mirror you keep shoved behind the office door.

You were never going to feel confident enough to march over there without a care in the world, so there was no use in trying to work yourself into that mental state. You simply ignore any thoughts about it and adjust your top one last time before slipping out your back door and trudging across your yard into Joel’s.

Your skin practically prickled up in goosebumps as it greedily drank up the warm rays of sun. You feel a tinge of guilt that you have never been kind enough to your body to let it just be free and feel the world around it. You always hide it away as best as you can, shoving it into this and covering it with that. As such, some parts of it have never known the warmth of the sun hitting it or a stray breeze delicately brushing by. Your body has done so much for you. It housed you. It let you play sports. It responded enthusiastically to Joel. Instead of being grateful for all things your body has done and continues to do for you, you lash out at it and admonish its existence.

Maybe you should take a page out of Joel’s book and try to treat it with some kindness.

Said man was already waiting by the pool with the hose running to fill it up a little more. He was so handsome. Maybe you needed to pull another Joel move and dole out some compliments to him more often, too. Always preoccupied with how ugly you must look, you probably didn’t offer up enough praise for him.

“You really do look so damn good in those trunks, Joel.” The warmth of your voice draws his attention over to you with a content smirk. If there was any time you wished you’d caught something on film, it was his reaction to you.

There was an old cartoon you used to watch as a kid that had a pretty redhead lady and a wolf in a snazzy suit that who was completely enamored with her. If Joel’s eyes had the ability to shoot out in cartoonish telescopic heart style, they would’ve shot right out at you.

His jaw hung loose as he turned to face you head on. His grip on the hose never faltered, and the water meant for the pool was now splashing all over the concrete patio. It was the sort of spirited response you had hoped for, and it gave you the confidence boost you needed to get flirtatious.

“Whaddya think?”

You tilt your head to the side in a coy display. Joel licks his lips and zips his eyes over every inch of you. You take a few steps towards him and decide to lay it on a little thicker and see where it takes you.

“The pink is cute, right?” you press in a throaty hum. Your fingers glide down the strings over your shoulders and against the cups on your top. Joel’s arm drops all the way to his side, but a few of his brain cells have managed to collaborate and keep his hold tight on the hose.

“Thought you might like it.” You can see the crotch of his trunks starting to tent already, and you just can’t help yourself when you do that tug at the strings on your hips maneuver. When you let them snap against your skin, Joel drops the hose and closes the distance between you in a few hurried strides.

He stops just short of you, not wanting to get so close that he can no longer ogle. His hands hover in the air in front of you as if he can’t decide what to grab or grope first.

“Goddamn,” he breathes. His eyes widen like he’s trying to make more space for them to take in more of you.

“Joel, cut the water,” you say, pointing to the forgotten hose spewing a steady stream onto the patio. Joel doesn’t move and opts to just stare at you with a wild, hungry look. You give a feigned sigh of annoyance as you brush past him and twist the spigot off. The little bit you had to bend down to turn the water off was apparently enough to send Joel over the edge because he’s on you before you know it.

“Inside.” His voice is needy and gruff in a way you’ve never heard before. No need to get into the pool to get absolutely drenched when you’ve got this feral horndog all but pouncing on you right here and now.

“Jesus, Joel, are you in heat or something?” you tease as he pushes you backwards into the house.

The way this man was reacting to your normal as hell bikini like you were outfitted in the nastiest lingerie you could find. To be fair, you never wore anything remotely sexy or revealing, so this was as close to lingerie as Joel had ever seen on you.

Joel is seizing handfuls of you as he grips and grinds into you. The urgency in his kiss is catching, and you dart your tongue against his in a frenzied dance. He’s rock hard against you. You can feel it through his trunks on your thigh. You swallow the groan rumbling up his throat when he presses you against the roll of his hips.

He guides you to the kitchen counter and spins you around. You catch yourself on the palms of your hands as Joel jerks your hips back slightly. He spreads your legs apart with a push of his foot against yours.

“Stay just like that for me, baby.” His gravelly command locks you in place, and you wait for his next move. He crouches behind you and settles onto his knees, grunting at the ache that springs up in them regularly. He runs his hands up and down your legs and finally splay them across the expanse of your backside before pushing, pulling, and massaging the flesh there. The back panel of your bikini bottoms is now swallowed into your crease, and a surprise gasp escapes you when Joel shoves his entire face against the fabric on your crotch.

A deep groan vibrates against your clothed pussy and sends molten liquid up your spine. Joel spreads your ass open and slides his thumbs just past the junction of your thighs. His pressure gets firmer as the up and down sliding passes reach your outer lips. Your breathing is as shaky as your legs, but you try to keep in place as he asked.

One of his thumbs gently slips under the fabric and pulls it to the side, revealing your slick covered slit. You start to say his name but it’s cut off when he spits a hot pearl of saliva onto your bare cunt. You jolt at the sensation and have no time to recover before the flat of his tongue is smearing across your heat. When your hips jerk a second time at that, Joel reaches both arms through your legs and hooks them onto your thighs to hold you in place. Your belly pushes into the counter as Joel darts his tongue in and out of you, swirling and nipping at your clit.

You’re close to climax when he suddenly pulls up and pulls you flush against his chest.

“Can I take you just like this?” he rasps.

Usually you use a condom, but fuck it. There’s no way you’re pressing pause on this.

“Take it however you want it, baby,” you whine back.

Joel literally growls in reply, and you hear him shoving at the waistband of his trunks before seeing them fall to the floor and kicked to the side. You move to untie your bikini bottoms, but Joel’s hand stops you.

“No. Want ‘em on,” he grunts before lifting your leg onto the counter and shoving the fabric against your crotch aside once more.

Joel was always big to take, and his swift entry all the way to the base of his cock was a whole new feat. You were incredibly grateful that you were already so wet and sticky for him. You choke out a moan at the blissful stretch that stings just right. Joel pauses and offers a hurried apology, hoping he hasn’t hurt you in his rush to fill you up.

“Fuck me now,” you grit.

Joel does that, and more. His body has your leg pinned onto the counter while one hand is on your clit and the other going back and forth between your nipples with a pinch and a roll of his thumb and middle finger. Just like your bottoms, Joel leaves your top on and instead shoves his hands under the cups to touch you. You are grabbing at the cabinets and anything else you can find, just trying to hold on while receiving Joel’s punishing pace and thrusts.

“Ohh-ahh, Joel, I can’t-I can’t hold on,” you stutter. “Can’t hold on m-much more.”

“Make a fuckin’ mess of my cock, baby. Wanna feel you come on this cock. Pretty pink pussy in this pretty pink bikini. All fuckin’ mine.”

When he tilts your hips just so and bottoms out every pass, you careen over the edge and let out a broken sob of his name. The gripping, pulsing clench of you on his length sends Joel into his own release shortly after. He fucks you both through it and eventually slows to a sloppy roll of his hips.

He steps back enough for your leg to come off the counter but quickly steps forward again so you’re leaning against it once more. You can feel his hard pulls of air and huffs of exhales between your shoulder blades as he wraps his arms around your middle.

“God-fuckin’-damn,” he pants with a laugh.

You are completely fucked out and can’t string words together to save your life.

“You been holdin’ out on me, sweetheart. Hidin’ this pretty thing,” he hums, pulling at the strings on your hips.

You mumble something incoherent that was supposed to express that it was new and you hadn’t been keeping it from him. Joel chuckles, “Fuckin’ cockdrunk. Just how I love.”

To that you shoot him a conspiratorial smile. He pulls out of you, groaning with satisfaction as his spend leaks out of you and down your thigh. “I think the only water activity today is gonna be a shower, sweetheart,” he chuckles against your ear. “We can save skinny dipping for next time.”

You laugh quietly, enjoying the happy dance of chemicals in your brain, and wonder to yourself if you’re ever going to make it into the pool with your new suit. With Joel around, chances are slim to none.

Thank you for the positive response to the first installment of these two (A Weight Off Your Shoulders). They are so fun to write, and based on the reception from AWOYS I just had to share this lil snippet I had already written. These two have really made a home for themselves in my brain!

Special shoutout to @thesailorofuranus for encouraging me to share more of these two with the world. I might just be working on a lil something she requested in the last one, so be on the lookout. 😈 Again ty ty ty for reading. If you wanna catch up on the series that I will be updating next, check out this link to Endless Night.

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller hbo #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #oneshots

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