#I have such good friendship bonding ideas
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Bed Chem
Daryl Dixon x F!Reader
Warnings: Suggestive content, nothing too explicit
Word Count: 3195
Setting: Alexandria, Pre-Negan
A/N: Hi guys I'm super excited about this oneeeee ! When I first started writing for Daryl I had this idea in mind and it was what inspired me to start writing again. I waited a bit to write this, I had been working it out in my head and trying to figure out where to take it but Daryl is so Bed Chem coded in my head and you can't tell me otherwise. I hope y'all like it :)))
(Moderately proofread, but I will probably still go back in and edit it later lol)
(( I made the borders :) ))
âI don't know⊠I think it's too much,â you said as you turned around, holding out the ends of the dress with your hands. âGirl, are you kidding? You look amazing, you have to wear it!â With an exasperated breath, you turned and looked at yourself in the full-length mirror again. You looked at Rosita in the reflection and gave her a small smile before admiring the dress again.
It was super cute, but you felt it was too much for the small party. You ran your fingers along the ruching at the neck, pinching and pulling at the buttery smooth fabric and trying to pull it up so it wasn't too low. The sheer blue baby doll dress fell to your mid-thigh and had off-the-shoulder puff sleeves high enough to show off your tattoos. Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the bow at the center of the neckline before facing the girls again. âOkay fine.â
Maggie and Rosita quietly squealed in excitement at your defeat. âYou guys look so pretty,â You marveled at your two friends. âThanks to you! I had no idea you were hiding these gems in your closet.â Maggie said with a wink.
It may have been dumb, but you had a thing for collecting cute dresses while out on runs. You knew that they would likely never get worn, but you kept them tucked away in the back of your closet in hopes that one day the world would be normal enough that a situation would arise where you could finally wear them. This was kinda one of those situations.
Alexandria had been your âhomeâ for the past two years. You had stumbled upon Aaron while searching for a new campsite, and ever since then you had been happy to call yourself an âAlexandrianâ. Life had been pretty normal, nothing like it used to be, but normal enough. Until Rickâs group arrived.
Something about these people felt different, you could just tell they had been through it. They all seemed pretty unsure at first, not wanting to trust that this place could be real. But slowly, they began to let their walls down and accept that this was a safe place. Well, as safe as it could be.
It was Deannaâs idea to have this little party. Although the newcomers had been settling in, it was still very obvious that there was a divide. In hopes of blurring that line, Deanna suggested that we throw a party. Her thinking was that if we all got together and had a good time, we would feel more âunifiedâ as a people. You had been trying on your own to make friends with the newcomers, and Maggie and Rosita were the most receptive to your attempts at friendship.
You had been hanging out with them for about a week now, and anyone who didnât know you guys would have thought you had been friends since birth. Something about the two girls just resonated with you, you understood each other in ways that the others couldn't. So you were more than happy to share your small collection of dresses with them when the party was announced.
âWhat are we waiting for, let's go!â Maggie announced, and the three of you did final looks in the mirror before walking over to Deannaâs house.
The house was more packed than you had ever seen it before. The three of you squeezed your way in and found a spot in the far corner of the living room. Soft music was playing over the speakers as everyone mingled. It warmed your heart to see everyone finally opening up, and you hoped that this would lead to strong bonds between the two groups.
âIâm gonna go find Abraham,â Rosita said, leaning in before continuing âShow off my cute dress.â She said, wiggling her eyebrows. âI gotta go find Glenn too, see what he thinks of mine,â Maggie said with a smile. âI have a feeling you guys won't be at this party much longerâŠâ You said, laughing. âWeâll be sure to come find you before we leave,â Rosita replied, giving you a playful shove. âYou sure youâre okay on your own for a bit?â You looked over to Maggie, rolling your eyes. âGuys, I'll be fine, you go have fun! Iâm gonna get a drinkâ The three of you gave each other small waves as you went your separate ways.
You made your way over to the makeshift bar, waving and saying small hellos to the people you passed. The options were limited, but you grabbed a bottle of cheap champagne and some orange juice to make yourself a mimosa. Taking a sip, you turned around to go look for Aaron, but as you turned you bumped into someone. The stranger reached out and grabbed your shoulder to help steady you before you fell. âOh my gosh, I'm so sorry!â
The stranger let his hand linger on your shoulder for a second before he seemed to realize what he was doing. He swiftly removed his hand and took a step back, grunting âSâfine.â You didnât recognize this man. He definitely wasnât from Alexandria, you would have recognized him. But you didnât recognize him from Rickâs group either. The man rubbed the back of his neck with his hand while looking down at his shoes, he seemed a bit shy. âAre you from Rickâs group? I haven't seen you aroundâŠâ He hesitantly made eye contact with you and nodded. âYea.â
He had a certain aura to him that left you needing to know more. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not usually the type of guy that you would have gone for in the old world, but you couldn't help admiring this man. He had a sharp jawline, long dark brown locks, and the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. His sleeveless jacket showed off his tanned arms that were muscular, but not in an overwhelming way. You never liked guys that were too muscular. And not to mention his accent, god the few words you heard from his thick southern drawl began to make your head buzz.
You were about to ask him his name when you heard Aaron from the end of the bar, âHey man! You get lost?â Both you and the stranger looked over to Aaron, and he gestured for the man to come over. Aaron noticed you and said, âOh sorry, am I interrupting something?â You smiled at him, âNo not at all!â
The stranger turned and gave you a small smile and a nod before walking over to Aaron. As he walked away, you were brushed by his scent. Pine, smoke, and sweat lingered in a cloud around you for a few seconds before it finally dissipated. You watched him walking away for a moment before your senses returned to you and you realized you never got his name.
âWait, what's your-â He was too far away to hear you at this point. You were left in a daze, craving in the absence of his scent. You were broken from your trance when you saw Rosita walk up to the bar from the corner of your eye. Without letting him leave your sight, you tapped Rosita on the shoulder and whispered, âHey, whoâs the cute boy with the black jacket and the thick accent?â The man was out of your line of sight now, and you turned to see a confused Rosita. âHuh?â You pointed in the direction of where you last saw him, âThe cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad,â you held up your arms and flexed to imply his muscular ones.
Rosita looked at you now with a dumbfounded look, she laughed a bit before saying, â You mean, Daryl?â Suddenly, you felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe he had a girlfriend or something... âI donât know, I guessâŠâ You said cautiously. She laughed again, âItâs nothing⊠heâs just⊠Daryl?â She looked at you and shrugged. You leaned in close and whisper-yelled âWhat is that supposed to mean?â She turned her attention to her drink and said nonchalantly, âI donât know, heâs just⊠a little reserved. âRough around the edgesâ maybe?â It felt like there was something she wasnât telling you.
âIf heâs unavailable or whatever you can just tell meâ Rosita looked back at you. âHonestly girl, I don't think that man is interested in likeâŠanything.â She said, shrugging again and taking a sip of her drink. âHuh. Okay then.â Feeling a bit defeated, you took a few sips of your own drink while you and Rosita made light conversation. The rest of the night you caught yourself discreetly scanning the room, in search of Daryl.
A few days later, you were sitting on your porch, waiting for Maggie to come over after she got off her watch shift. The sun was setting, painting the houses in warm orange hues. You swayed back and forth in the rocking chair while nursing the cigarette you held between your fingers. In the distance, you could see a figure walking in your direction. As it got closer, you recognized it. It was him. You tried to work up the courage to say something, to just shout out âhelloâ at the least, but your heart was racing and you couldn't find the courage.
When he reached the front of your house, he glanced over at you. âHey.â He said with a small wave as he continued walking. âHey.â You responded in a shaky voice. Before he got any further away, you took one last drag and stood up. Walking to the edge of the railing, you leaned over it and shouted, âWait!â He slowed his pace and turned around, taking a few small steps toward you. He remained silent as he stared at you expectantly. âYou uh- you never told me your name.â
He looked around briefly, almost like he couldn't believe you were talking to him. âDaryl.â Of course, you already knew that. But it was nice just to hear his voice, even if it was just for the duration of one single word. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a cheesy grin. âWell, it was nice meeting you the other night, Daryl.â
He chuckled to himself, âYou too.â You might be wrong, but you could have sworn you saw his lip twitch up in the slightest. âIâm (Y/N).â You were sure you sounded a bit goofy, but the scene you found yourself in felt like something out of a movie. The burning sky set his skin aglow, softening his rough edges. Certainly, this wasnât the Daryl Rosita was talking about?
He quietly repeated your name to himself, â(Y/N).â like he was testing the feel of it in his mouth. The way your name sounded in his drawl had you feeling out of breath. Am I really that easy? Is all it takes just for him to say my name to get me going? You felt like you were in middle school again, staring at your crush from across the lunch room, swooning over the way he opened a water bottle. Except this time, you were being acknowledged, the way he looked at you made you feel like he really saw you.
The silence that followed wasnât awkward, it felt comfortable, like a warm blanket. Until you heard your name being called out in the other direction. âHey! We still on for tonight?â You looked to your left to see Maggie approaching you, wine bottle in hand. âYeah yeah, I was just having a smoke while I waited for you, I-â You turned back to look at Daryl, but he had already turned around and started walking away. âI just uh- You ready?â You stuttered to her, hoping she hadnât picked up how caught off guard you were.
âAlright, spill.â You looked up from your seat on the couch to find Maggie handing you a glass as she sat down on the other end. âWhat?â You blurted out. She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her wine. âDonât be silly, (Y/N). I saw you talking to Daryl as I was walking up.â You played it off as casually as you could. âOh, that was nothing we just-he just- we uh met the other night. At the party.â She gave you a look that told you she wasnât fully convinced yet. âAndâŠ?â This time, you took a big sip of your glass before continuing.
âWhen I was getting a drink, I almost tripped and he caught me.â You looked down into your glass, swirling the blood-red liquid as if you hoped words would appear and tell you what to say. âI never got his name soâŠâ You took another sip. âWhen I saw him walking by this afternoon, I stopped him and asked him.â Maggie nodded, looking off to the side in thought. âIt was justâŠkinda weird I guess.â You felt your heart rate pick up again. âWeird, how?â You took another sip and you could feel yourself getting the slightest bit dizzy.
âWell, the way he looked at youâŠIâve never seen him look at anyone like that before.â You reached over to the coffee table in front of you and refilled your glass, offering the bottle to Maggie after you did so. She took it from you and topped off her own glass. âIs that a good thing or a bad thing?â She finally looked back at you and you saw the wide smirk on her face. âOh, itâs definitely a good thing.â The two of you burst out laughing and you couldnât help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
3 glasses in you found yourself oversharing with Maggie. Your skin felt hot, your head light, and your cheeks warm with a tinge of pink. The two of you spilled details from past relationships and regrettable one-night stands. It wasnât long until the conversation circled back to Daryl. âYou should really talk to him.â You hid your face behind your hands, your glass long forgotten on the coffee table. âWhat if he thinks Iâm being too forward!â You laughed at Maggie, âI wouldnât even know what to say!â
Maggie stood up from the couch, sticking her hands out beside her to help keep balance. âYou go like this,â She stumbled to you and leaned over, putting one hand on your shoulder. âCum right on me. I mean-Camaraderie!â Maggie fell to her knees in front of you laughing harder than you had ever seen her do before. You too, could not stop the laughing fit that ensued. Leaning over with a hand on your stomach, as tears left your eyes from the force of the giggles.
You looked down at her, feigning doe eyes and now placing your hand on her shoulder. In your sweetest voice, you said, âWhere are thou? Why not uponeth me?â It felt like you two laughed for hours.
After the initial high from the wine started to cool off, the two of you lounged on the couch, knees bent and facing each other. You were trying to come up with serious ways to try and get Darylâs attention. âDonât tell Glenn I said this, but I always thought Daryl was kinda handsome.â She tried to hide her small grin with her hand. âSee! You get it!â She nodded in response. You looked at her and in a more serious tone you told her, âI bet weâd have really good bed chem.â She hummed in agreement. You started to slightly daze off as you imagined it.
âI just want him to pick me up, pull âem down, and turn me aroundâ Maggie tried to bite back her chuckle. âWhat?â You turned back to her grinning. She narrowed her eyes and said, âI bet he talks real sweet while heâs doing bad things.â Just the thought of it had you out of breath. You groaned in frustration. Putting your head in your hands and shaking it while laughing you muttered, âI'm just manifesting that heâs oversized.â She laughed, âHoney, I donât think you need to manifest that.â You looked over at her and groaned again, âMaggie, I think Iâm obsessed.â
The next few days you were in your head about what to do. You couldnât find the right time or place to talk to Daryl, but you knew you needed to. Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of him and it was starting to physically affect you. The most frustrating part was that you knew it would be even better than in your head. But just the fragment that you could imagine, based on how little you knew him, was better than any of your wildest fantasies.
You had decided you were going to try and talk to him today. He had been going back and forth to Hilltop for various reasons, and his absence had given you the courage to approach him before he left again today. At least if things donât go well, I won't have to see him for a few days. You checked yourself in the mirror one more time before leaving your house.
Just as you were about to open the door, you heard a knock. You waited a few seconds so that whoever was on the other side didnât think you had rushed to the door. Putting your hand on the cool knob you slowly turned it. The old door creaked as it swung open, and you were met with a sight you couldnât believe was real.
Daryl stood at your doorstep, eyes locked on his shoes and hand on the back of his neck. âOh, Hi Daryl.â You tried to contain the giddiness that was coursing through your body. âHey uh- you free for a sec?â He slowly looked up at you and dropped his hand. âYeah, what's up?â He looked around nervously. âI havenât been in Alexandria a lot lately, but I wanna be.â You were stunned at this statement, what did he mean by that? âWhen Iâm back next time, uh- was gonna see if ya wanted to um- go huntinâ together or somethinâ.â
You had to shift your weight to the side of your body that was still holding onto the door handle, otherwise your knees would have fully given out. You couldnât hide the wide grin that spread across your face. âYeah, I would like that.â He looked up at you and gave you the smallest smile. âAre you free next week?â His smile grew wider as he said, âI am.â
Although not many words left his mouth, his eyes spoke clearly. You picked up a hint of lust, mixed with excitement and anxiety. You knew what that look meant. âIâll see you next week then.â You spoke softly, slightly leaning your head against the door. âYeah.â He gave you a small nod before shoving his hands in his front pockets and walking off your porch. Before he left earshot you called out, âHave a safe trip!â He looked back at you and smiled just a bit wider, before giving you a wave and walking toward the gate.
OKAY LET ME KNOW WHAT Y'ALL THOUGHT !!!!
also I feel like it's kinda maybe necessary to do a part 2 to Juno ???? lmk....
#daryl dixon#daryl posting#twd daryl#daryl#twd daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon one shot#Spotify
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Talk me through it
â· CW : 18+, smut, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, car sex, a bit of fluff if you squint, first date
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Your heart was beating out of your chest. Rattling inside your ribcage, threatening to burst out; pleading to be surrendered to his hands.
âI had fun.â You smiled, mentally patting yourself on the back for even daring to say yes to this in the first place. Both of you have been tiptoeing around each other for months. Always in fear of ruining this. A bond that has been tested many times before and it always comes out tighter than ever, yet it never turns into anything beyond a friendship.
He lets his hand off the steering wheel, his car parked neatly on your driveway. He turns his head, eyes too shy to meet yours but eventually; he relented. Itâs so funny how easy it always used to be to look at each other.
âMe too.â He reached over to squeeze your hand.
âCan i-â
âCan i-â
You both laughed at the same time, hand pulled away to cover the blush that appeared on your cheeks.
âOh my god hah! iâm so sorry Josh, you go first. What were you gonna ask me?â, You tilt your head to the side; knowing the fact that it makes him flustered whenever you do that.
âNo no no, itâs okay. I- I just wanted to know if- um- can i walk you to your door?â
âWhat! Of course you can, why are you so nervous about walking me to my door?â
He looked down while shaking his head, smiling. âYou donât know the effect you have on me.â
âMmhm okay.â, you playfully roll your eyes.
âWhat were you gonna ask?â, his tone curious andâŠexpectant?
A tingle went down your spine, thereâs no more fear or doubt anymore; just excitement. You lean forward, not too close but close enough to tease him with the idea of something thrilling.
âCan i kiss you?â
You surprise yourself with how steady you sounded, expertly masking how all over the place you feel inside.
His eyes widen, mouth agape.
âYeah..Yeah of course you can.â
The music playing in the background faded as you met in the middle, it all came down to this. The two of you were finally properly communicating with each other, teeth clashing and tongues meeting. A moan escaped you, further egging him on. You felt his hand tangling itself into your hair, your own moving to cup his jaw affectionately.
Then he reluctantly pulled away despite your protests. A string of saliva stretched and broke.
âOh josh-â, you moaned. He was kissing and sucking on your neck. Leaving marks of ownership that you will look at tomorrow with pride. It felt so good, you rub your legs together to ease the tension. You feel so wet, desperate to have him inside you.
He trailed up to whisper into your ear, âDoes it feel good? Do you like it?â, sneaking a little nibble.
You were lightheaded, you didnât even remember if you answered properly or not. One thing led to another, then you were sitting on the backseat; panties off. Somehow it felt much dirtier to get fingered by your high school best friend/crush while being fully clothed. You even still had your sneakers on.
Josh had his arm around your neck, pillowing you; occasionally stroking the side of your face with his thumb. You found it hot to see him with his sleeves rolled half way, so he could finger you properly.
âYouâre so beautiful. I could never get tired of youâ, he said while he had three fingers inside your cunt. His thumb expertly stroked your clit, just as affectionate as the thumb on your cheek.
The moans you let out were embarrassing to say the least, but they donât compare to how embarrassing your cunt sounded. Wet and sticky, drowning out the radio.
âI canât believe how wet iâm making you feel. Youâre making a mess in my car.â
âOhh baby, i canât ah shit- help it. Fuck right there fuckkk.â you whimper.
You feel dizzy and overwhelmed, his blue eyes pierced through you. He sometimes leans close to tease you. Promising a sweet kiss, only to keep you at a distance. You shamelessly stuck out your tongue, too horny to feel any ounce of shame.
âFuck look at you. Youâre so fucking sexy.â, he whispered breathlessly. His eyes trailed down your body, stopping at your warm middle.
He fully pulled his fingers out slowly, you let out a soft whimper.
âPatience baby. I just wanted you to look at how much youâre soaking my fingers.â, he showed you his fingers, soaked and webbed with cum. This was turning you on so much.
âMy.good.fucking.girl.â he punctuated the words with deep and rough thrusts back inside your cunt.
âAh baby! Fuck, i wanna cum so bad Josh. Your fingers feel so fucking good.â, you look at him with low lids and furrowed brows. âPlease..make me cum.â
âFuck. I wanna feel you around my dick so bad, youâre sucking me in so much.â
âPlease!â, the image of you riding him flashed through your head, further pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm.
âNext time iâm gonna eat you out till your fucking legs shake. Then Iâm gonna fuck you and cum inside this sweet pussy.â, his breath hot in your ear.
âYou want that?â
You answered with a high pitched yes. Your hand wrapped around his wrist to ground you.
âThen cum for me.â, tone demanding, his fingers jack hammering inside you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, tears rolled down your face. You werenât even sure how loud you screamed. His fingers stilled inside you, feeling your cunt tighten and spasm. Your body instantly felt spent. Little did you know, Josh had his eyes fixed on you the whole time, never wanting to miss anything.
Your eyes slowly opened, âJoshâŠâ you cried. You never want him to stop looking at you this way.
âYeah?â, he responded with a sweet and loving smile.
You took a few deep breaths to regain control of your body again. The heat running through your body felt different now. Instead of consuming you whole; in a heartbeat, it spread slowly. Warming up your chest.
You were close to crying, the emotions rising up to your throat.
âI love you so muchâ, you whispered.
âI love you too, youâre everything to me.â, he finished with a kiss to your forehead.
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Thank you so much to @slapthosewilliessilly for requesting âJosh talking you through itâ. I had to expand it a little more to stretch out my writing muscles. Hope you like it! đ„č
Also ahh iâm so nervous about sharing my first kind of long-form ficâŠđ
#josh washington#until dawn#josh washington x reader#until dawn fanfics#josh washington x original character#until dawn smut#josh washington smut
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hii how do u think the fourth wing boys would react to finding out your dragons are mated? đ (pls pls include aaric?)
(I have only read till half of IF so forgive me if something doesn't align with the characters)
Ridoc: You both are first year and this guy has been flirting with you from the moment he saw you cross the parapet. You were a challenge to him and you enjoyed the game as well. You both made a bet that if both of you survive thrashing and bond with dragons there will be some serious celebration which will not involve any clothes. Imagine Ridoc surprised, happy, horny, confused at the same time. That's how he was when you both found out your dragons are mates, and the celebration certainly happened sooner because both your dragons started "celebrating" as well. Ridoc is especially happy about the connection he has with you now...sending "wild" thoughts in the middle of a series class or the continuous mental fighting. He also pouted an entire day when he realized you successfully learned to shield your mind and used it against him, but luckily for him he knows how to get your shield down. Ridoc is also very grateful that his dragon prefers to stay with his mate all the time.
Liam: Okay for this I have an entire scenario in my head. You as the daughter of the king but you hid your identity well and no one in that death hole war college knows who you really are, except for violet. You and Liam have fought each other during training, obviously Liam always winning and ending up on top of you. The subtle flirting and caring could almost go unnoticed, but still enough to make both your hearts crave something more. But you know you have to stay away from the marked ones and can't develop feelings for any of them, maybe that's why you sometimes act rude towards him just when things start to get a little more than a mere friendship. After the threshing, Liam immediately figured out that both your dragons are mate (Xaden helped him). But you couldn't figure out what's going on, and let's just say your dragon has a mischievous side and is enjoying your confusion and frustration. Liam's has suddenly developed an urge to be with you all the time (not really, he felt this way before but the dragons gave him a good reason now). Because of the bond Liam soon found out your true identity, maybe he read your mind or his dragon told him because your dragon can't keep a single secret from his mate. Out of loyalty Liam told Xaden and it became a whole mess. A big fight happen between you and Liam and at that moment both your dragons thought it would be funny to hook up. So all that emotions let to angry hate sex with you and Liam. A marked one and the princess. The hate sex didn't last long and it soon turned into something more passionate and emotional. The next day Liam happily sat next to his dragon as he watch you scold your dragon for getting horny at the worst time possible. You still have a lot to get used to but you don't regret your time with Liam. Liam thinks its the best thing that has happened to him.
Imagine Liam using his signet to watch you when you are a little bit far away. Imagine his love sick smile and everyone is like "what's he smiling about?"
Bodhi: You being a first year and Bodhi a third year. Bodhi was not expecting you to bond with his dragon's mate, especially when everyone knows your dragon has an attitude and is very picky. Bodhi was literally going "no no no" when he was observing the thrashing and his dragon is like "my mate choose well, she is pretty and strong". Up until then Bodhi never really care about you but now suddenly there is this big twist. Imagine you are one of those people who thinks that rules should always be followed, it certainly doesn't work when Bodhi is literally part of the rebellion. So what does Bodhi do? Get you in trouble first which could get you kicked out or worse, and then tell you that your dragons are mates. It's the only idea he can come up with in short time to protect the rebellion and to make sure you don't do blabbing away, not that you were ever going to because even though you follow rules you know what is wrong and what is right. Your dragon doesn't like Bodhi much but tolerate him because of his mate. Bodhi's dragon however adore you. When your dragon started mating you stay away far away from Bodhi, maybe even seek the comfort of another and lets just say Bodhi has a hard time hiding his jealousy, especially when his own dragon is also jealous on his behalf
Garrick: "I am fucked" That's the words that came out of Garrick's mouth when he realized you bonded with his dragon's mate. And why he reacted that way? Because you two hooked up shortly after you started your first year and he ended things because you caught feelings and he didn't, at least that's what he believe. Now it didn't take you long to move on (that's what he believes) but he is certain that this new change between you two will make everything more complicated. Garrick trying to explain you the enter thing, mated dragons, him and you never going to happen and all that. He was kind of disappointed when you only replied "cool". He can hear his dragon laughing with its mate about the entire situation. The fact that you are so chill about all this made him even more frustrated and he just keeps lying to himself that the frustration is because your dragons are about to "mate" again, and you are like "then why am i not feeling it?" and just walk away. You will be in hell before you let yourself catch feeling again, and Garrick is terribly regretting not giving you his heart when you first confessed. "I am fucked", and his dragon is like "yes you are and me and my mate are enjoying this". The direct mental link is another thing that has disrupted his entire life when you just simply indifferent to him and flirt and hook up with others. And when you learned to shield your mind Garrick was losing it. He can't even imagine not able to have the constant connection with you, but of course he tried his best to hide it
Dain: Yeah this guy felt like he lost all control when you bonded with his dragon's mate. "is that even possible?" he is in complete disbelief. But he immediately, like second later after the thrashing, got extra protective. Maybe you two knew each other from childhood, maybe you two were friends, or maybe you were never able to tolerate him. But now your life is tied to him in the most annoying dramatic way. Instead of trying to teach you to protect yourself and fight Dain is like "maybe you and your dragon should sit this one out", and like hell you are going to listen to him. It's an endless cycle of you getting on Dain's nerve and Dani getting on your nerves while both your dragons are hopelessly cheesy romantic. But like imagine Dain slowly realizing he can't always ask you to step back and not like you ever listen so he trains you. You are not happy but accept his offer. "but if you touch me without gloves i will chop you hands into tiny tiny pieces, fry them in hot oil and feed it to my dragon." Dain just roll his eyes and is like "do you always have to be so violent?"
Aaric: His real identity was revealed to you the day you bonded with your dragon. Aaric was somewhat chill about it but he had to calm you down because you are one of the marked ones and he is the king's son. There may have been some hurtful words from you side but he is just calm and let you work you emotions out. And then came the mind talking thing. "get out of my head" "i didn't even realize i was in...okay okay, i am getting out...i think we are never getting out of this." It's almost unbelievable how fast your friendship developed after this. Sure there is always something more than friendship between you two but you both have mission but Aaric always tell you "I think you will be happier with someone else" and it always confuses you because you have no idea what his signet is
Jack FUCKING Barlowe: Okay but imagine his dragon choose him because you bonded with your dragon first and his dragon is somewhat unhealthily attached to your dragon, just like Jack has an unhealthy infatuation with you. It's not a typical mate thing but there is something and its kind of scary. The type of scary that you always feel in you bones but it send chills but also a strange comfort of knowing he wont hurt you. Jack was grinning like a maniac when he realized his dragon is your dragon's "mate". Since that moment onwards your mind was never safe and you were never alone.
I didn't add Xaden because we already know how he reacts and I don't think i can write something different for him
#ask box open#fourth wing#fourth wing imagine#fourth wing headcanon#garrick tavis#bodhi durran#ridoc gamlyn#dain aetos#aaric graycastle#cam tauri#jack barlowe#liam mairi#xaden riorson#fourth wing fanfic#iron flame#onyx storm
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for the pjo, do you have any headcanons on Magnus and Annabethâs friendship? Or a fic of them getting to relax and take a break from their stressful lives (deaths??)
idk I just love the idea of Magnus being treated to the chaos that is pjo and Annabeth hearing about mc
yes i love it!
i think it takes a while for magnus to get fully introduced to annabeth's whole life of chaos because they make an effort to meet halfway so he doesn't really believe everything she tells him at first because there is no way that's all true
when he does start seeing it with his own eyes, he gets super stressed thinking his life is gonna get even crazier than it already is
he is constantly ready to throw down with frederick chase. he trusts annabeth when she says they're trying to maintain a relationship, but the second freddie steps out of line, magnus is ready to beat his ass. so is alex. and jack.
when annabeth starts learning how to cook, percy makes magnus try everything first because 'he's already dead, it can't hurt him'. alex is surprisingly down to try annabeth's questionable food. turns out that once you've eaten your depressed talking goat friend, fear around food mostly goes away.
when annabeth hears the otis and marvin story, she silently decides it is going to be a very long time before magnus meets grover
this doesn't have anything to do with annabeth, but the first few times he meets sally, it makes him really upset because she reminds him of his mom
magnus is kinda disturbed the first time he's caught up in a monster attack with annabeth and percy because they went from joking and casual to silently communicating plans and taking the monster down in seconds. he is upset that his cousin had to learn to be this way, but he is also afraid that one day that will be him and alex. alex thinks it's hot.
once annabeth introduces him to her other friends, magnus finds out he is not above guilt tripping his cousin's rich friends into funding the chase space or giving to the homeless. when magnus, alex, and leo join forces, rachel nearly maxes out her credit card.
one time one of the gods stopped annabeth mid conversation with magnus for a really stupid quest and magnus is flabbergasted. he's like, "your gods just do that??" and she's like, "yours don't??"
i think percy and alex would be weirdly good friends. not sure if for good or evil. but definitely friends.
frank and alex not getting each other's brand of shape shifting but still bonding over it. like frank's is almost always a manifestation of anxiety while alex's is a way to take control of her/his life, but does that stop them from seeing who can open the most jars as a gorilla? hell no
alex being absolutely infatuated with blackjack and vice versa
magnus hearing about all of the various feuds between the greek gods and being like, "why don't they just not spend so much time together or stick their noses into each other's business?" because iirc the norse gods mainly stick to their domains but it seems like the olympians spend a lot of time on olympus and annabeth just laughs and laughs
jack rates annabeth's friends on their weapons. personality, appearance, effectiveness, etc. he has a whole system that magnus gets to hear. constantly. (riptide is the perpetual favorite)
#thanks for the ask! i might write a fic of this later#pjo#mcga#percy jackson#annabeth chase#percabeth#magnus chase#alex fierro#fierrochase#pjo hoo toa#pjo fandom#pjo hcs#pjo headcanon#my writing#my hc#mcga hcs#not fic#asks#it's been to long since i read mcga#sorry if i got alex' pronouns wrong normally i'd use them but i think there was a part in mcga where alex said they didn't like they/them
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Been waiting for Ha-chan to show up for like, three weeks and the first thing she does when she reappears is to jumpscare us with no face đ
That said, while this episode did a good job of portraying young adults coming to realize what it was like for their parents/guardians to raise and care for them, it didnât really reveal anything new or give us any helpful new clues about the plot.
But it did confirm that Ire is counting on Hisuiâs growth to achieve his goal as well as suggested some ideas of what might be going on with our missing Ha-chan and Hisui.
Alright, this is gonna be a bit of a mini-long recap so~ bear with me.
In the first season, Ha-chan only appeared after Mirai and Riko formed a connection with each other. And in the finale, she only appeared after Mirai and Riko reunited first.
Ha-chanâs growth also accelerated every time the Linkle Stones were used, which usually coincided with the deepening of Mirai and Rikoâs friendship as well as their growing bond with Ha-chan.
So that just proves Mirai and Riko (and Mofurun) are the most important factors when it comes to reawakening Mother Rapapaâs powers.
Mother Rapapa split the world into two separate ones (Magic World and Mundane World) during her fight to seal Deusmast away. Her hope was that one day, both worlds would come together again so she entrusted the Linkle Stones, the fragments of her powers, to Precure for that very purpose (and to finish Deusmast off for good, yeayeayea).
Ha-chan is Mother Rapapaâs reincarnation and therefore, the inheritor of not only her powers but also her will. As the rift that formed between the two worlds decreased and Mirai and Riko (representing those two worlds) grew closer, Ha-chan became stronger. Strong enough that by the end, she was able to fully accept her destiny as the next Mother Rapapa.
Something similar is occuring now with Hisui.
Hisui was entrusted into Mirai and Rikoâs care just like Ha-chan was after they found Ha-chan in that library.
Though their respective relationships with Ha-chan and Hisui are quite different, itâs obvious that Mirai and Riko want to protect Hisui just as much as they wanted to protect Ha-chan when they were younger. Regardless of the reason (that Hisui and Ha-chan are alike, that itâs their responsibility as adults to look after kids, etc), they just have to protect Hisui no matter what.
Hisuiâs relationship with Mirai and Riko isnât as deep as Ha-chanâs but itâs undeniable that sheâs come to rely on them and has grown attached as a result. So when the Cures were in trouble, Hisuiâs reaction wasnât to run away to safety as they told her to but to stand in between them and the enemy.
That desire to protect Mirai and Riko was what finally allowed her to connect with Ha-chan.
Because for Ha-chan, Mirai and Riko are the most important people in the world (theyâre her precious mommies đ„č).
If Hisui thought the same as Ha-chan did (of wanting to protect someone they held dear), those feelings will resonate with one another and therefore, allow Hisui (who is probably a part of Ha-chan that has been broken off) to finally be able to use magic. Ha-chanâs magic. Mother Rapapaâs powers.
âŠwell, for that critical moment anyway because the magic shut off and she went back to Muggle status aftrward.
But yea, I believe thatâs what theyâre implying with the Ha-chan situation here.
For some reason, Ha-chan canât be by Mirai and Rikoâs side at the moment so she may be trying to establish a channel to them through Hisui. Or at least trying to ask Hisui to look after them in her place.
Thereâs a lot to be said about the expression she shows in this shot, too.
Normally, Ha-chan is a very happy and cheerful child in her civilian form and her mature side only shows when sheâs Cure Felice or in giant goddess form. However, in front of Hisui (who is wide-eyed and clueless, the face a child would have), Ha-chan looks very calm and serene. Even her eyes show a much wiser side I donât think weâve seen beforeâŠnot to this extent yet, anyway.
And that might be an effect of the bunshin split? Ha-chan ending up with more maturity in her while the more selfish, childish aspect of her got concentrated in Hisui?
Itâs also possible that Ha-chan might know everything already but is just waiting for the right moment to come back. Sheâs only interfering minimally so as not to mess with things too much that she canât come back đš
âŠyea.
Well, whatever the case, itâs a relief to know that sheâs out there somewhere and will be reunited with Mirai and Riko eventually (nooo, reunite TODAY, dammit!! đ)
The difference in height between her and Hisui further implies that Hisui will see more character development as the story progresses, too.
Which I will get into the next post nowâŠ
#Ha-chan is still technically missing so it is still ok for me to wail about it!! đđđđ#mahoutsukai precure#mirai days#ha-chan#hanami kotoha#hisui
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going to build a bear. wish me luck.
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The musical episode.
[First] Prev <â-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#jin guangyao#nie mingjue#Remember jin guangyao: If you do any treachery you will face the wrath of five horses.#When are the horses going to come into play? You'll see.#s2.ep8 had beautiful music... I listened to it on loop while drawing!#Good music to chill out to before you fly into a rage.#This episode really cements how JGY's mind works - It is a matter of long-term outcomes at the sake of nearly everything else.#Morals do not matter to him if the outcome is more favourable.#and at the center of it all - he has learned that the only person he can truly trust is himself.#In turn - the only person his actions benefit are himself.#He will do anything and everything it takes to reach a position of power - not just for the power. But because it means safety.#Because it was something he was denied and the idea of not having control in his life again is unforgivable.#'Happiness' isn't a goal. We are looking at someone still stuck at the bottom of Maslow's hierarchy of needs.#Everything and everyone is a piece in a game. Bonds and friendships are assets. People are dispensable.#He wants to climb for the sake of climbing. He wants praise and recognition because he feels it is deserved. It's all so hollow.#We could go deeper into his psyche on this.#But these are also tags under a comic in which 'evil penis music' is the punchline.
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Actual Ultimate Classpecting Guide
For real this time.
Buckle up, this is a really long one. For everything that's posited, I can provide textual evidence; that being said, I'm not going to be including the textual evidence within the essay itself, because it's already long enough as-is. As such, please feel free to ask for clarification or sources on any assertion, and I'll do my best to provide.
Before we begin, there's some things to discuss about how we're going to be approaching classpect in the following essay. In numbered list form for our short attention spans:
1. There is a concept Hussie talks about multiple times in his book commentary, "personality alchemy" - the idea that there are these "platonic ideals" of certain characters, which can be mixed and matched with others, in order to create new characters. The examples he gives are of how Eridan was a proto-Caliborn, how Kanaya has shades of Jade, how Nepeta was a proto-Calliope, and how Sollux and Eridan have shades of Dave in them. Classpecting is fundamentally a form of this personality alchemy:
2. Class describes the character's arc and emotional hurdles, while Aspect describes the character's base personality traits by which this arc is experienced.
3. For example, all three Seers struggle with hubris: Rose's need to be the smartest person in the room led to her being manipulated by Doc Scratch, Terezi's obsession with meting justice led to her engineering a situation where the only option was to kill Vriska, and Kankri's desire to be seen as a spiritual leader amongst his friends led to him furthering their divisions and harming them.
Then, when their pride is shattered, they cope by inflicting willful self-blindness: Rose turns to drinking herself stupid (the opposite of Light's sway over knowledge), Terezi gets down with the clown (the opposite of meting out Mind's justice, as it's a Gamzee W), Kankri goes celibate (Blood L) despite his clear romantic feelings for certain teammates.
4. As for Aspect: note how all three Life players share the personality traits of optimism, stubbornness, and obstinacy. All three Breath players share an immaturity and naĂŻvety, and are quite frankly irresistible to people for some reason. All three Light players share a need for the spotlight and a tendency toward long-windedness and persnicketiness. So on and so forth.
What's interesting is, if you start analyzing characters that share Classes and Aspects, these specific types of similarity crop up over and over - all our Knights struggle with insecurities and facades, both our Bards have a crisis of faith. All three Breath players have an aspect of immaturity and childishness to their characters, and all three Light players are deeply concerned with appearing intelligent and feeling important.
5. As a result, this guide is NOT intended for classpecting real life people, because we are complicated, we contain multitudes, and we don't have arcs. This is primarily an analysis of what Class and Aspect mean in Homestuck based on textual evidence, because I genuinely believe that you can basically figure it out if you read carefully.
6. Duality, and the idea of "equal and opposite," are major themes within Homestuck - Prospit and Derse, Skaia (described as a crucible of birth and creativity) and the Furthest Ring (the literal afterlife). Which classes are involved in an Active/Passive split, and opposing Aspects, are the same way. This is the primary method I used to determine the Active/Passive pairings and opposing Aspects. After all, as Callie describes, both Thieves and Rogues are classes "who steal" - so, too, do I try to unify Classes by a common theme, even if they diverge wildly in how that theme is expressed (as Thieves and Rogues do). In the same way as the opposite of "up" is not "apple," but "down", because "up" and "down" are both fundamentally concerned with relative vertical position, so too can be defined concepts like Breath and Blood, Hope and Rage, Light and Void - as well as the reasoning behind Class pairings like Heir and Page, Maid and Knight, and Seer and Mage.
7. Descriptions for both Class and Aspect are left deliberately vague and up to interpretation within the comic itself, and this is by design: the actual manifestations of an Aspect can vary wildly given the Class, and even individual person, that it's tied to. Calliope even makes note of the fact that, under the right circumstances, someone can manifest effects that appear to be the opposite of their aspect. She's also careful to couch her language in "may" and "can" - because these concepts are intentionally somewhat nebulous and malleable. As such, while this guide certainly lays down what can be gleaned and inferred from the text, do note that Homestuck runs on a soft magic system, and as such, nothing stated is firm, 100%, must-always-be-this-way - just an overview of what we've seen.
8. There is often great overlap between Aspects, Classes, and Classpects - which Calliope herself notes. Heart and Blood are one of the most salient, as they both have a fixation on relationships, and Calliope mentions that under the right circumstances, a Classpect may even be able to manifest what appears to be the opposite of their Aspect. Again, Homestuck operates on a soft magic system, so this is a feature, not a bug.
ASPECT
There's a little less to say about Aspect, not because it's less complicated, but because "base personality traits" are much more nebulous compared to Class's sway over character arc. Still, Aspect represents the fundamental way a character is, and thus, color every interaction that character has. There's a reason Ultimate Selfhood is sought through Aspect, not Class - Aspect is the core of the character's being, what makes that person that person.
That all being said, Class has major sway over how an Aspect manifests, and certain classes can even invert the Aspect and even the character's role in the party. As such, these descriptions must be parsed carefully in relation to Class. Moreover, due to the soft magic system, there is at times overlap between unrelated Aspects, which can also be exacerbated by Class - Heart and Blood being the most obvious in this regard. Still, overall, you'll find the Aspects to be fairly distinct from one another.
Please also note that every Aspect can deal with its literal counterpart by default - Light players can wield lasers, Breath players can wield the breeze, et cetera. Because this kind of goes without saying, and because the non-literal stuff is more interesting to discuss, I'm not really going to go into too much detail about the literal qualities.
Finally, something interesting to note is that nearly every Aspect follows its own Hero's Journey cycle - full actualization for each one usually means reaching around to its opposite Aspect, and taking lessons from them - for example, Breath players need to learn maturity and responsibility, while Blood players need to learn relaxation and whimsy. Thus, an Aspect at its worst manifests in two ways - either a toxic overabundance of the Aspect's worst traits, or such a dearth of the aspect that it begins to resemble its opposite. Only by reaching into the opposite, however, can the player be tempered and reach full maturity - can they become more of who they are.
SPACE / TIME
Space and Time are both concerned with physical reality, goals, and the way one approaches them.
Space is associated with "the big picture" - with recycling, reproduction, and the interconnectivity of all things. The aspect also presides over the enjoyment of the journey over the destination - Space players serve as reminders that the present moment is as important as the end goal. Space is often a more passive Aspect, being the stage upon which the story is set. They're the hosts of the party, and the one who marks the ending.
Its players reflect these tendencies, often being feminine, with penchants for life-giving acts such as gardening. Their personalities tend towards frivolity and silliness, finding it difficult to stay on-topic or bring full gravitas to serious situations. Perhaps a better word would be "distractable;" when the aspect is so concerned with all things in connection with each other, it's easy to lose track of details, and it's easy to enjoy things simply as they come. Space players tend to be kind, patient, and forgiving, which is a strength as much as it is a flaw; it's easy for malicious actors to take advantage of this compassion, or for the Space player to find themselves in a poor situation by being overly permissive. They can easily be painted over by stronger personalities, and tend to struggle with romantic relationships, as they attract many with their kind and giving natures, and few are naturally so considerate of the Space player in turn.
"Passive" is a good word to use; at a toxic overabundance of their Aspect, Space players are trampled underfoot. They become enablers, servants to dark forces, or so lost in their own worlds that they neglect the one they live in. With their Aspect "inverted," a Space player becomes a demon of poor prioritization. Distracting not just themselves from their true purpose, but others, too, the Space player will wreak havoc by overemphasizing unimportant topics and ignoring important tasks. This superficially resembles Time, in that the Space player will become fanatically dedicated to their task, but note that the poor prioritization is still Space-esque at its core.
Still, within this nadir is a valuable lesson: the strength of self-assertion, and the determination to see a goal through. These will allow the Space player to weed their garden, separating good from bad, allowing it to flourish like never before.
Time, in contrast, is associated with "the little things" - with details, minutiae, and processes. Time presides over the struggle toward something greater, the endurance of hardship with an eye on the prize - the destination over the journey. Time players are the ones keeping track of the tasklist, marking off each item as it reaches completion; they are the tireless workers keeping the whole engine running.
Time players, thus, are ones whose lives are marked by struggle. They are highly goal-oriented; in contrast to how Space players can easily move from goal to goal, task to task, Time players feel bound to see things through to the end, finding satisfaction only when they've achieved their desired result - and only until they come across the next goal in their journey. A Time player isn't happy without a goal to work towards, a craft to polish, a prize to win - but this driven nature can easily be its own downfall, as it leaves little room for the player to admit to their own shortcomings, or ask for help from others. Moreover, their focus on minutiae can leave them blinded to the bigger picture, and it's easy for a time player to fall to despair, able to do nothing more but spin their wheels. They're prone to directionless anguish, frustration, and resentment towards the seeming futility of their actions, becoming destructive and defiant even when it doesn't serve them to do so.
At a toxic overabundance of their Aspect, Time players become explosively destructive. The ultimate "goal" of all things is death, with which Time is associated, and accordingly, Time players have a penchant for aligning themselves with futility and entropy, struggling so hard that their thrashing leaves a trail of annihilation in their wake. With their Aspect "inverted," Time players detach entirely - they can become so fed up with struggle that they simply opt to lay their weapons down and let the end take them. It's very easy for them to come to the conclusions that either everything matters, or nothing matters. This superficially resembles Space and its big picture thinking, but note that its framework of struggle, and whether or not a goal needs to be pursued, makes it a Time concern.
But the inherent meaninglessness of existence is, in itself, an important realization to make - that whether or not anything "matters" in the grand scheme, things can still be worth doing, worth caring about, and worth investing in. This realization allows the Time player to attack their goals with renewed vigor and greater clarity, which in turn means that the party becomes an efficient, well-oiled machine.
BREATH / BLOOD
Breath and Blood are both concerned with directionality, interpersonal relationships, and autonomy.
Breath is the Aspect governing freedom, liberty, and independence; it is a force that breaks shackles, clears out social norms, and refutes "the rules," whatever those rules may be. Breath players can't be tied down, whether by physical bonds, societal rules, or even the ineffable forces of the narrative itself. They are leaders of example, pioneers, and trailblazers, opening new paths for their teammates to follow.
Breath players are goofy and gullible, often with hearts full of childlike whimsy, naivety, and even immaturity. They are friendly and well-meaning, fond of simpler things, and easily swayed by others. They approach the world with a sincere and innocent good-naturedness, like a baby animal before it learns to be fearful of danger. Something about this sincerity seems to make Breath players irresistible to others, and they often find themselves the subject of romantic attraction. However, in this childishness is also the great pitfall of many Breath players - their natures are naturally conflict-averse, and egotistical the way a child can be, failing to see beyond themselves. They can be incredibly callous when not considering the consequences of their actions, or the viewpoints of others.
At their worst, Breath players are irresponsible and callous. They'll shirk the consequences of their actions, blaming anybody but themselves, or simply choose not to care who they hurt in order to get what they want. They may even choose to stop making choices for themselves, leading to the "inversion" of their Aspect - a voluntary loss of freedom and independence, derived from an Breath-like aversion to responsibility, which superficially resembles the bondage of Blood.
But if they are able to overcome these tendencies, a Breath player will learn what true responsibility looks like - responsibility for themselves, their choices, and the effect they have on others. Armed with this, a Breath player's ability to break bonds can be focused into a clear force for good, clearing away all obstacles and harmful societal standards, leading the charge into something new and beautiful.
Blood, in sharp contrast, is the aspect that governs bondage, contracts, and interdependence. It is a force that binds. Under Blood's sway are not only romantic entanglements, but familial, friendly, and societal ones as well. This aspect sees overlap with Heart, but the division is this: Heart concerns itself with feelings, and Blood concerns itself with compatibility. Blood players are diplomats, forces that remind us all that we are more similar than we are different, and that that similarity should bring us together when we are on the verge of pulling apart.
Blood players, reflective of their Aspect's association with bonds, tend to be neurotic and obsessive. They have a tendency to over-examine and overthink, constantly fretting over the infinite and infinitesimal variables that influence the shape of society and interpersonal relationships. However, this judgmental nature stems from a deep well of idealism and empathy; Blood players can't help but care about others and wish for the best for them. In a way, this makes them one of the most mature members of the team, being concerned with its overall well-being. Unfortunately, their prowess does not extend inwards, and their assessment of themselves is usually direly incorrect - all the worse because Blood players always feel responsible for those around them. Blood, being the Aspect concerned with interdependence, is the weakest one when all alone.
Thus, it's easy for the Blood player to wind up controlling - desperate to make sure everyone is moving according to their vision, they'll become iron-fisted dictators, with a "my way or the highway" approach to social interactions. It's easy for them to wind up pariahs of their own making, becoming so critical of others, or so adamant about enforcing their own will, that they inadvertantly sever their ties - something that superficially resembles Breath's independence, but is truly a result of Blood's neuroticism.
But with that space and separation can come great clarity. Blood players must learn to relax their grip, and allow people room to breathe - including themselves. Once able to grasp that sometimes bonds must be forged with a soft touch, Blood players' natural empathy shines through, allowing them to build something so much kinder and greater than the sum of its parts.
LIGHT / VOID
Light and Void are both concerned with knowledge, ontology, and "narrative relevance".
Light (as well as its counterpart) are perhaps best understood through the lens of "narrative" - this idea that, of all things that do and don't exist, and all events that do and don't happen, only the ones put to page are "relevant". Thus, Light is associated with knowledge and luck - that is to say, it's associated with the knowable, the objective, and the concrete, and the ability to determine "important" events. Light players have read the book they're participating in, and able to serve as luminary guides from one plot point to another, lighting the lampposts for others to follow.
Light players, naturally, are erudite and educated, possessing keen intellects and cunning minds. They are fond of knowledge itself, of markers of status and prestige - whether that's wealth, the adulation of the masses, or a massive library. They harbor a desire to be important, to be seen, to be acknowledged, and are happiest when they are looked up to. Conversely, they deal poorly with being looked down upon. Their confidence transmutes easily into hubris, and they struggle with having that pride challenged. As such, they tend to be volatile and unpredictable, quick to retaliate against those who threaten their egos, or obsequious to those whose acknowledgement they desire.
Their desire for the limelight can quickly spell disaster - they can become incredibly cruel, harsh, and egotistical in their pursuit of narrative significance. They forget, in their obsession, that they, too, are fallible and flawed, and the inevitable reminder can come very harshly. Light players struggle with moderation, and as such, when they feel shame, they'll often take drastic measures to cope with it - deliberately darkening their own influence or intellects, removing themselves from the "story" entirely - something which superficially resembles Void's penchant for the background, but which is firmly rooted in Light's obsessive need for drama.
But in experimenting with narrative insignificance, Light players can reach an epiphany - in their absence, others may shine, and that can be a wonderful thing. Light players, then, can learn to shine not just for their own sakes, but for the sake of others, allowing them to weave a story even more brilliant than any that can be weaved alone.
Void, in contrast, is the blank spaces between the words. That which is secret, subjective, unknowable - these are Void's domain. It's associated with taboos and hidden things, sexuality and pleasure. It's also associated with the empty canvas - the blank space before creation, and the oblivion to which creation is eventually destined for. Thus, it stands for infinite possibility, though the collapse of those possibilities into a reality removes that reality from Void's domain.
Thus are Void players ever cosigned to the background, though this generally suits them fine. Void players are very self-possessed. Where Light players tend to exaggerate and complicate, Void players are honest and simple, preferring straightforward solutions. They don't tend to think very hard, instead letting intuition and emotion guide them to where they want to be - which makes them one of the more stable personalities on a team. However, this simplistic, feelings-driven approach often leads to pleasure-seeking behavior, poor impulse control, and overindulgence in vice, and from there, to irrelevance, with which Void is so closely interlinked.
Void players are especially prone to vice, and at their worst, will become so drunk on pleasurable activities that they pursue them to the active detriment of the party's goals or the Void player's self-improvement - making them the ultimate irrelevant character. They can also very easily drag others into their mélange, with a forcefulness that resembles Light's illuminating guidance, but which is ultimately rooted in Void's pursuit of personal pleasure.
But there's a lesson to be learned in Light's domain: how to bring themselves into relevance and greatness. A Void player, once they learn to pursue not just personal pleasure, but a greater satisfaction for the collective whole, can drag the Void behind them, kicking and screaming, to where it'll be of use.
MIND / HEART
Mind and Heart are concerned with what it means to be a sentient being, with identity, and with why we do what we do.
Mind is the Aspect associated with logic, rationality, karma, ethics, and justice. To a Mind player, they "are" because they "think". They are keenly aware of the consequences of every action, and well-versed in cognition and behavior, such to the point of manipulating others with ease. Deeply concerned with the "effect" of cause-and-effect, Mind players are always cognizant of debts and credits, where justice is owed and where it has been over-meted, and their subtle machinations culminate, like well-placed dominoes, in grand and explosive finales.
Mind players are schemers - it's in their nature. They have a tendency to view the world as a puzzle or game, with themselves and the people around them as pieces on a board, and set as their standard rules the laws of ethics and karma - owed debts and overhanging credit - guilty and innocent. Mind players are wickedly cunning, and have an high success rate with every scheme they commit themselves to, but the grand downfall of all these tendencies is that they tend to lack in a sense of identity, and have a poor grasp on their own emotions or desires. While they may know how to provoke a desired reaction, they don't know how to change someone's mind. They often find themselves grappling very painfully with their own selfhood, with feelings of emptiness, inadequacy, or uncertainty.
Thus, a Mind player at the worst zenith of their Aspect is heartless and cruel. Leaving no space for empathy or even personal feelings in their plans, the Mind player will plot for an ending as heartless as they are. But a Mind player is never truly without emotion, and ignoring their own feelings causes them to manifest in terrible ways - Mind players have a tendency to seek toxic, codependent relationships, hoping to find external validation, subjecting themselves to the wishes of others, which can appear like Heart's fixation on feelings and desire.
But in recognizing their own need for emotional validation, and the importance of their own feelings, a Mind player can realize that there's an entire dimension to the game they've been playing that they've been ignorant of. When a Mind player learns to temper their schemes with empathy, compassion, and kindness, how much more success they'll see - and how much happier that grand finale will be!
Heart, then, is associated with feelings, motivations, intuition, the soul, and the self. To a Heart player, they "are" because they "feel" like they are - and they're keenly aware of the multitudes that are contained within themselves. Deeply concerned with the "cause" of cause-and-effect, they're drawn to desires, those of themselves and of others, especially where strong feelings are concerned. Heart players are gifted with an intuitive understanding of those around them, both their good and bad qualities, and are tasked with the grand task of bringing out the best.
It stands to reason, then, that Heart players have a firm grasp on who they are and what they want. For the same reasons, it's difficult for a Heart player to truly hate or condemn another person, because they are so adept at understanding them. However, this understanding comes with a price - because the Heart player is so aware of themselves, they can't escape their own worst traits - nobody self-loathes as accurately as a Heart player can. Nor can they ever truly be untruthful with another, making them poor manipulators. Capable of presenting a different facet of themselves as the situation calls for it, certainly, but just as it's impossible to lie to a Heart player, who always knows how someone really feels, it's impossible for a Heart player to lie to themselves.
With this sincerity comes vulnerability. Heart players wear theirs on their sleeves, and at their worst, this can make them demanding, needy, and sensitive - so eager to connect with others emotionally that they'll cramp themselves to fit others' desires. But they can't ever keep this up for long; Heart players have a tendency to withdraw from others after being hurt too often, finding it easier to be alone and silent about their feelings than to deal with the pain of rejection. They may even work to manipulate others, preying on their emotions and desires to force them to act in their worst interests. This superficially resembles Mind's cold logic, but unlike Mind's cool rationality, Heart's aloofness is a mask, an attempt to avoid pain by pulling away.
But this isn't purely a negative, because a Heart player can learn a healthier form of detachment, and separate out healthy and helpful desires from harmful and detrimental ones. Given this clarity, the Heart player becomes the team's emotional core, able to raise up each teammate's best qualities, while helping them deal with their worst, enabling everyone to be the best possible version of themselves - which the Heart player knew them to be all along.
LIFE / DOOM
Life and Doom are concerned with outlook, with journeys, and with trials and tribulations.
Life is an aspect concerned with healing, growing, and improving. It is associated with beginnings, optimism, and positive emotions. The very essence of Life lies in its healing abilities, in this idea of overcoming the odds and triumphing over hardship and difficulty. Life is action, movement, and motion, and its players can scarcely hold still. Life will find a way - and Life players harbor the same immutable belief; they are the most stubborn weeds in the garden, the cockroach that survives the apocalypse, and the beating heart that refuses to stop.
Life players tend to be optimistic and confident. They are self-assured individuals, with a stubborn belief that good things are on their way, and any hardship they face is not only temporary, but something that can be overcome. They can find the silver lining in any cloud, and enjoy themselves under any circumstance. They love to nurture, to care for others, though this love has a tendency to be one-sided. Indeed, Life's stubborn nature is its players' greatest pitfall; their persistence easily becomes obstinacy, and their confidence can become condescension. Their self-assured nature easily becomes egotism, and they can have great difficulty grappling with those who don't share their views - even coming to oppose those who bring emotional pain and suffering that can't be easily fixed.
It's very easy for a Life player to decide another person isn't worth their attention, and opt to leave them behind - after all, Life has to move forward, no matter what it tramples in the process. At their worst, they're stubborn to the point of not listening to anyone but themselves, confidence becoming blockheadedness. This focus on forward progress without looking back can even cause Life players to become harmful to others, so focused they are on their own growth that they don't notice that they're choking everyone else out. This may resemble Doom's death in its worst case - arresting everything else, eventually blocking even their own path with unruly, out-of-control fecundity.
Thus, a Life player needs to learn to more gracefully accept Doom's influence - to pause, slow down, and consider viewpoints that are negative, unpleasant, or difficult. A Life player, endowed with moderation, will be able to cultivate a bountiful garden, rather than an unruly jungle - a place for all to flourish and live in plenty, never wanting for anything.
Doom, then, is the aspect concerned with death, with rest, and with endings. Doom is associated with suffering and with negative emotions, with peace, with sleep, and with dreams. Doom players have a natural penchant for prophecy, and are often dual dreamers, able to take advantage of both Skaia's oracular clouds and the Horrorterrors' voices over Derse. All things must eventually come to an end, and not all times will be good; in these troubling times, Doom players shine, as they are the guides who call the murk home, and know best how to navigate rough waters, course-correcting until the storm passes.
Doom players tend to be deeply pessimistic. They experience, to a much more magnified degree than others, negative feelings and impulses, and it's difficult for them to see the world without seeing its flaws, first and foremost. They are not healers, but commiserators, those who understand greatest that sometimes there's no way to deal with tragedy but to simply sit with it and wait for it to pass. The counterpoint to Life's insistence on breathless positivity, Doom is a reminder that pain, grief, sadness, shame, and guilt are not unnecessary things - in fact, excising them can lead to terrible consequences. Doom players are the universe's martyrs, often taking it upon themselves to course-correct, to sacrifice themselves in order to give others a chance to continue on, to avert a terrible fate.
Unfortunately, this tendency also brings with it a tendency for Doom players to wallow in misfortune, or worse, to take themselves out of the picture, giving up entirely on seeing a better ending. As if energized by their own sense of futility, a Doom player at the "inverse" of their aspect may seem to echo a Life player's focus on forward progress and motion, actively spurring their team on towards an untimely demise.
A Doom player must learn to harness this sense of progress for good, rather than harm. A Doom player, once able to grasp the joy of life even in the greatest depths of despair, will be able to fill even the darkest hours with peace, meaning, and hope.
HOPE / RAGE
Hope and Rage are concerned with permission, and are the lens by which we define reality.
Hope is described by Hussie in the book commentary as being "framed as the most powerful aspect" because it is, literally, an aspect that defines reality. Its specific ability is lies in reducing the "fakeness attribute" of something, thus making it "real". Hope is associated with convictions, with idealism, with faith, order, holiness, and, of course, with magic - which Hope turns real. Hope is permission itself - a reality-breaking ability to look at the world and decree that it must be another way, a way in which the Hope player believes it ought to be.
Thus, Hope players tend to be hard-headed zealots, with no self-awareness whatsoever. Their inclination towards powerful beliefs makes them very difficult to dissuade from a path they've set their minds to, and their specific suite of abilities makes them terrifyingly likely to make their vision come true. Hope players are usually not particularly cunning, nor particularly intelligent, nor even particularly empathetic. Given the Aspect's focus on conviction and faith, it's usually very difficult for Hope players to notice anything occurring beyond their own minds and feelings. Thus are Hope players hopeless optimists, hopeless romantics, and hopeless in general - often great sources of embarrassment to their teams, as their naked sincerity is painful to witness. However, their ability to define reality does not leave them when their beliefs are faulty (which they often are, given Hope players are not particularly introspective, either), which is what makes a Hope player so dangerous.
A Hope player can easily be set on the wrong path - as convicted as they are, and as difficult to shake from that conviction as they can be, Hope players can easily march down a path of destruction, if not persuaded with a deft touch and gentle guidance. In the event that their faith is broken, Hope players easily become despondent and lost, floundering and wishy-washy, which superficially resembles Rage's self-consciousness, but is truly just a lack of direction.
But Rage has a powerful lesson to teach Hope players - that of questioning themselves, interrogating their own beliefs. Once their convictions have gone through rigorous scrutiny, revised into the best, brightest versions of themselves they can be, a Hope player is a worker of miracles - speaking into existence a beautiful future on faith alone, proclaiming that how they see the world is how the world shall be.
Rage, then, is the power of denial. If Hope reduces the "fakness" of a thing, then Rage reduces its "realness". Rage, too, is a means of defining reality, in this case taking a torch to the aspects of reality that it rejects. In more passive Classes, this works in subtler ways, stoking others towards destructive fury. Rage is associated with anarchy, chaos, revolution, destruction, anger, and nihilism. A Rage player will not suffer a world that does not satisfy them, breaking it to pieces, such that something new can take its place.
Therefore, Rage players are prone to harboring anger and resentment, discontentment with the status quo, and faith only in that what currently exists must somehow be dismantled. However, unlike Hope players, who can't help but be pathetically sincere, Rage players are incredibly self-conscious, and often try to mask and hide their embitterment and anger. This, ironically, leads to further ostracization, as others can tell they're being inauthentic. This only further compounds their sense of alienation, and drives them further into smoldering resentment. This makes Rage players sound volatile and dangerous, and they are - but the same fury that moves them is the fury that ignites revolts and tears down oppressive regimes, a necessary and vital well of energy and momentum. It takes careful handling to ensure that the team's Rage player can channel this energy towards righteous causes, rather than marking all as a target for their destructive ire.
In the worst-case scenario, the Rage player turns that rage out indiscriminately, deciding that there is nothing worth fighting for - only unpleasant things to be brought to ruin. This is Rage at its toxic overabundance. Conversely, a Rage player can retreat so harshly into their mask that they allow others to dictate their beliefs, taking them to heart - an action motivated by Rage's destruction (this time, turned inwards) that superficially resembles Hope's convictions and faith.
The true path for a Rage player is a healthy balance - to allow themselves some of Hope's sincerity, and by doing so, to become more sincere and true. This will let them release the pressure of their mounting ire, such that it can be converted into productive, rather than destructive, energy - the heralds of a revolution, razing away the faulty, corrupt old systems such that something better and new can take their place.
CLASS
As previously stated, Class governs a character's character arc - the character's starting circumstances, whether their conflict is primarily internal or external, and what major aspect of their Aspect becomes a hurdle for them to overcome.
In the same way an Aspect's sways tie into the character's base personality, the character's Class abilities tie into the kinds of struggles they face, and have great influence on how their Aspects manifest.
That being said, a character - and their Class - are always subject to their Aspect, as their Aspect is tied fundamentally into who they are. Thus, it can be said that a Light player will always have an affinity for knowledge and provide Seer-esque guidance even when not in a Seer role, a Doom player will always have prophetic abilities even with a non-prophetic class (note that Mituna, an Heir, still had prophetic visions, despite those generally being the realm of Mages and Seers), and a Life player will always have a penchant for healing, even paired with a destructive Class like Prince or Thief (the Condesce, after all, could still extend life; a Prince of Life would likely manifest not as one who causes plants to wither and die (this would actually suit a Prince of Doom), but one who destroys in the way of nature overtaking an abandoned shack, or a forest breaking down a body).
This means that when a character's Classpect inverts their Aspect, it doesn't mean that they suddenly become a hero of the opposing Aspect - rather, it means that, at their very worst - at the nadirs of their character arcs - they will lean so much into their Aspect's worst traits that it will superficially appear as the opposite, when all it really is is an absence of themselves. Dave, a Time player, usually so attentive to detail (despite his disaffected facade, he's always paying rapt attention to Karkat's rants, and noticing all the clues pointing to his destiny of defeating LE), at his lowest emotional point (arguing with Grimbark Jade after sobbing about his lost childhood whimsy), states that he doesn't think Lord English is that big a deal, and never even did anything directly bad to him or his friends - when he was literally directly haunted by LE via Cal his entire childhood. Similarly, Rose drinks herself stupid in order to cope with her mother's death.
Note how, superficially, this almost appears to be an invocation of Space's "big picture thinking," its passivity and permissibility, or how Rose's case appears to be Void's tendency to indulge in vices and pleasure - but they're not. Time's worst traits superficially resemble Space, Light's resemble Void, and vice versa - Grimbark Jade is the Condesce's taskmaster, and Porrim at her worst was as much of a nag as Kankri, trying to do a Time player's managerial job. Horuss and Equius at their worst won't shut up and won't stop talking over their partners. So on and so forth.
Finally, Calliope tells us a couple things about Active/Passive pairings. The first is that Calliope introduces the idea of paired classes with the idea that both Rogues and Thieves "steal" (and later, that both Princes and Bards "destroy"). This presents the idea that both classes can be roughly summed up with the idea that every pairing can be summed up with a common theme.
The second is her description of what makes a Class Active versus Passive - that Active Classes move their Aspect to benefit themselves, whereas Passive Classes allow their Aspect to be moved in order for others to benefit. In a way, they're like active and passive voice in grammar (to tie in with the way Classes and Aspects are so tied to ideas of narrative and character arc) - an Active Class performs their Aspect, and a Passive Class allows the Aspect to be performed "by others" (the famous piece of advice regarding telling the two apart being that a sentence written in passive voice can have "by zombies" tacked to the end of it - eg, John is attacked "by zombies", as compared to active voice - John attacks).
Thus, the Class pairings, along with their basic themes, are as follows:
KNIGHT - / MAID +
"One who controls."
Knights and Maids are paired together through two key factors: the first is that they both hold leadership or managerial roles; the second is that both classes carry the connotation of serving a Lord. Fittingly, they are both struggle with the control of malicious forces - Knights with prophecies indicating their role as heroes, Maids with direct usurpation by malicious forces.
PAGE - / HEIR +
"One who inherits."
Pages and Heirs are paired together because they both fundamentally deal with the great inheritances placed before them. Pages can come into incredible, limitless power - but they must struggle and work hard for it; Heirs begin the game in societal comfort and wealth, and must learn to defect from their decadence.
THIEF - / ROGUE +
"One who steals."
Thieves and Rogues are highly adaptable, as Thieves are capable of fantastic on-the-fly adaptation, whereas Rogues have an infinite toolbox at their disposal. They are both provocateurs, shakers of the status quo, though the Thief does so for personal gain, while the Rogue does so to right injustice.
MAGE - / SEER +
"One who guides."
Mages and Seers are tied together by the gift of prophecy and future sight. Seers are privy to the endless branching paths that the future may take, while Mages are gifted with the ability to outright determine a future that will certainly happen, appearing to be prophecy.
WITCH - / SYLPH +
"One who changes."
Witches and Sylphs are individuals blessed with great magic, but poor judgement. Sylphs heal and nurture, but are drawn to those with strong desires, and enable them to cause great harm; Witches, meanwhile, possess strong emotions, which they often use as moral guidance, for better or worse.
PRINCE - / BARD +
"One who destroys."
Princes and Bards are representatives of society - the one who determines its course, and the one who recounts its passing. Princes suffer from a toxic overabundance of Aspect, and are prone to spectacular meltdowns, whereas Bards are always poised for a crisis of faith. Both are responsible for catastrophic failures - but also breathless victories.
INDIVIDUAL CLASSES
KNIGHT
"One who controls [Aspect] or controls using [Aspect]."
Knights are frontline warriors, rallying points behind which the party falls into line. Although they are often leaders, just as often, they are logistical planners, strategists, or simply the team's beating heart. They are almost always thrust into positions of narrative significance, often carrying grand destinies or even outright heroic prophecies on their shoulders. The are the party's rallying force, its center, and a guiding light - the one to lead the charge, behind which the party will follow.
The primary character struggle a Knight will have is with crippling insecurity. Knights are prone to self-loathing and imposter syndrome, and will often adopt a façade in direct opposition to their aspect (ie, their fundamental personality) in order to cope with their feelings of inadequacy. Thus, their relationship with their aspect becomes love/hate - though they're naturally drawn to their aspect, and even naturally skilled at utilizing it, they have a tendency to become their own worst enemy, as their insecurities make them push their façades, and their façades distance them from their aspect.
"Controlling their Aspect" means that the Knight has easy access to their Aspect, wielding it like a tool or weapon - for good or for ill; "controlling using their Aspect" is what grants Knights their leadership abilities, able to dictate how others ought to act in accordance with the Knight's Aspect - whether their understanding of their Aspect is high or low, whether their advice is good or bad.
Therefore, at their worst, a Knight will fall prey to their insecurities, retreating into their facades, rejecting their Aspect, which will allow disharmony or misuse of it to proliferate throughout the team. They may even wind up deliberately twisting their Aspect's presence within the team so that they never have to be confronted by it; these distortions ripple outwards and eventually culminate in major catastrophes, all on account of the Knight's negligence.
But at their best, a Knight is a shining beacon and guiding light; when they come to terms with themselves, and allow themselves to be comfortable in their own skin - when they no longer allow themselves to be ruled by their insecurities and anxieties - they ensure that their aspect is harmonious wherever it appears throughout their party, and can wield it expertly as a weapon, as if it were their own flesh and blood.
MAID
"One who allows control through [Aspect] or allows [Aspect] to be controlled."
Unlike Knights, which take positions of frontline prominence, a Maid is a managerial presence in the backlines, though no less crucial for the smooth functioning of a party. Just as the invisible hands of the hired help keep a household running, the Maid will be called upon to provide vital services to keep the game stable, even if those services are more noticeable by their absence than their presence. Maids are often the party's unsung heroes or even shadow leaders, tugging at invisible strings, fingers on the pulse.
A Maid's primary character struggle will be that of escaping oppression. Maids tend to start the game in positions of subjugation or subservience, especially to malicious forces, and their abilities often end up being exploited to serve their masters' ends. Therefore, one may even have the impression that a Maid is ruled by their aspect, held prisoner and slave - at least until they're able turn the tables.
"Allowing their Aspect to be controlled" means that Maids are capable of directly dispensing their aspect unto others - a Maid of Time can dispense time unto foes, pausing them in their tracks; a Maid of Life can grant so much life that they can revive the dead. Their boons are great and direct, straightforward in a similar manner to Knights. "Allowing control through their Aspect" grants them their uncanny managerial abilities, as their aspect dictates the realm in which nothing occurs without the Maid's knowledge or permission, a realm made available to whomever the Maid's allegiance lies with.
Thus, at their worst, the Maid becomes a saboteur. Exploited by malign forces, their abilities to allow control over others through their aspect, or control of their aspect, makes them perfect vehicles by which their aspect can be hijacked or usurped, and made to turn against the party, and they often find themselves placed into these positions through no fault of their own. It takes the party banding together to shake off the forces that would keep a Maid in bondage.
However, at their best, Maids ensure that the party can never go too far off the rails. There is a place for everything, and everything will be in its place; a Maid is a supply line, a safe haven, and a promise that everything will be neat and tidy when the party returns from war. When the Maid belongs to themselves, their homestead becomes a fortress, and nothing occurs under the Maid's watchful eye without their express permission.
PAGE
"One who works to inherit [Aspect] or inherits [Aspect] for themselves."
Pages are a class defined by promise. As the name suggests, a Page begins weak, but has the great potential to develop into one of the most powerful players in the game. The exact nature of a Page's powers are vague, not because they are insignificant, but because they are so great that it's difficult to encompass them all. At the apex of their arcs, Pages are capable of miraculous feats, overpowering even Lords and Muses - if only they could reach that point and stay there.
A Page begins the game weakest of all, reflective of their long journey of growth. Where most classes only fall into deficit of their Aspect at their lowest emotional points, Pages begin their arcs in deficit - exhibiting character traits opposite to those their Aspect normally encompasses. Moreso than any other class, a Page must learn to grow into their Aspect. Weak-willed, naive, and easily hurt, Pages require careful nurturing if they're to come into their own.
"Working to inherit their Aspect" describes the endless journey of growth the Page must undertake - one with many missteps, backslides, and setbacks along the way. Still, they "inherit their aspect," meaning that their full potential, when realized, is overwhelmingly great - practically becoming their Aspect in humanoid form, capable of utilizing it to its glorious full potential.
However, their nature defeats them, and even if they can attain this state, the Page usually can't stay there for long. At their very worst, the Page's deficit of their Aspect's better qualities can turn the Page into a gravitic well of misfortune - an albatross about the party's neck, the centerpoint, if not inciting incident, of a massive disaster, as their team is sucked in by the Page's natural weakness.
But this is only true as it contrasts to a Page at their best - having grappled and won with the greatest of all weakness, a Page is poised to come into the greatest of all strength. Shown kindness, compassion, and support, a Page at full power reflects a party at their best. A Page at full strength is breathtaking to behold, an unstoppable force of nature, their Aspect made manifest.
HEIR
"One whom [Aspect] grants inheritance or inherits [Aspect] for others."
Heirs, in contrast to Pages, start the game strong. They usually belong to the upper echelons of their respective societies, a position of great wealth, leisure, and comfort, and are set to be inheritors of even greater wealth. Similarly, their Aspect comes to them as if of its own will - it is powerful, but difficult for the Heir to control, reflecting the wealth and status they've enjoyed as birthright.
An Heir's main challenge is that of examining their privilege, and learning where they wish to spread the gift they've been given. Because of their positions of sheltered comfort, Heirs are not particularly world-wise, and often harbor massive blind spots to the suffering of others and the ills of society. As such, they tend to be fairly aimless, given great power but no strong motivations, and have a tendency to simply indulge in their Aspect without contributing great help or hindrance to their team at all.
The Heir's Aspect is practically an independent entity. Being one whom "their Aspect grants them inheritance" refers to how the Heir starts powerful, able to summon their Aspect to perform great, miraculous acts. However, it is highly intuitive and difficult to control. The Heir's challenge lies not in attaining great power, but in attaining control over, and the ability to direct, their existing abilities. Once they do, they can "inherit their Aspect for others" - Heirs become a conduit through which their party can experience their Aspect, making it a usable pool of wealth for them all to draw from. However, because of their comfortable positions, many Heirs end up dallying, finding no pressing need to do so.
But this dallying hides a ticking clock. An Heir's inheritance will come to them, one way or another, and if they aren't ready to receive the great responsibilities that come with such great power, then the power will eventually consume them. An Heir with no clear direction will eventually become lost to their Aspect, entirely removing both from play. Like how wealthy inheritors simply become part of the status quo, so, too, does an Heir disappear into their Aspect, fixing it in place.
Thus, Heirs must learn where they have been blind, where they have been foolish, and what it means to be underprivileged. Then, once they turn their energies towards addressing those injustices - to taking responsibility for building a better future - when their wealth comes to them, they'll be able to distribute it where it's needed most. An Heir, fully-realized, brings their Aspect to heel, and makes it a resource available to their entire team, as if welcoming them all into the family.
THIEF
"One who steals [Aspect] or steals using [Aspect]."
Thieves are, as the name suggests, greedy - much of their arc revolves around a desire to amass wealth, though what's considered "wealth" varies based on the Thief and especially their Aspect. They tend to be callous people by nature, capable of ignoring or trampling over the feelings of others in order to take what they want, in the hopes of filling an emotional void the Thief may not even be fully aware of.
The Thief's playstyle is one of careful resource management. Reflecting a natural tendency to take "wealth" from others, Thieves are unable to use their Aspect without first "stealing" it - a subtractive act which leaves the victim bereft of the Aspect, weakening them in the process. Because of the finicky nature of these abilities, it takes great cunning to be a Thief, and the Class both demands and requires the player to be adaptable, flexible, and quick on their feet, able to effect complicated schemes and engineer the perfect situations for their powers to have the greatest effect. Thieves aren't necessarily strong, but they have a very high victory ratio, because they're experts at turning a situation to their own advantage.
"Stealing their Aspect" refers to the fundamental way in which the Thief class is played, this resource management game; "stealing using their Aspect" reflects how the Thief often becomes a malignant force within the party, viewing their own teammates as caches of wealth to plunder. Thieves are naturally prone to hurting others for their own purposes, craving drama and attention, and being of such callous dispositions that they're able to perform extreme acts of cruelty given the right motivations.
Thieves often become a target of ire within the party, disruptive forces whose quest for personal wealth and fulfillment comes at the cost of those around them. At their worst, they can bring so much heat down upon their own shoulders that the party feels the need to treat them like an enemy, which is disastrous for party harmony. Moreover, it's disastrous for the Thieves themselves, as Thieves seek wealth to compensate for some emotional emptiness, and making enemies of their friends only serves to deepen their ennui.
Thus, a Thief must be taught that true happiness and fulfillment doesn't come from the struggle for wealth, but from the building of something better with those they care about. A Thief, thus turned to heroic purposes, becomes the party's pinch hitter - an adaptable spy, an unpredictable maverick, an element of surprise - and above all, a reliable ally, capable of turning any tide in the party's favor.
ROGUE
"One who steals from [Aspect] or steals [Aspect] for others."
Rogues, on the other hand, call to mind such figures as Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to distribute to the poor. Rogues are at their best when they're agents of a well-planned heist, as they possess an unlimited toolbox - their own Aspect - to play with. Their Aspect is a treasure trove, just waiting for the Rogue to plunder it and share its riches - if only the Rogue can figure out how.
Rogues are forces of revolution. They naturally carry a rebellious spirit, one which bristles at injustice, takes a stand against authority, and questions the status quo. Their ideas are unfocused, however; they know they must rebel, but usually don't start with a clear idea of against who or what. They know that their society is injust, but they don't know how to address that injustice. They know there are villains, and may even know these villains' identity, but they don't know how best to defy them. In a similar way, they're often lost as to how to utilize their Aspect beyond its most basic applications, and usually require external assistance in order to bring out its full potential.
Rogues' true potential lies in "stealing from their Aspect" - an additive act, rather than a subtractive one, as a Thief's stealing is. Rogues are capable of removing their own Aspect's sway over another entity, allowing it to exhibit the characteristics of the opposite Aspect; a Rogue of Void can create things out of nothing, a Rogue of Heart can tease out behaviors and actions. They can also "steal their Aspect for others," allowing them access to their own Aspect's suite of abilities as well. This allows the Rogue incomparable flexibility, their abilities - like their dispositions - rebellious and subversive.
But their rebellious spirit, coupled with their lack of understanding as to who their real enemies are, is dangerous when left unchecked. Rogues often suffer from a failure to start, giving up on trying to understand the deeper implications of their abilities, and of the society they can't seem to find contentment in - but they can also suffer from a worse fate: rebellion without a cause. Rogues' free spirits can lead to them bucking the status quo in ways that actively harm others, performing acts of taboo or poor taste just because that rebellious energy needs to be put to use somewhere. These can have disastrous knock-on consequences, as some things are taboo for good reason.
Thus, Rogues need to be guided - to make connections with others, and come to a greater understanding of the world at large. Once they know their target, and what needs to be done, the Rogue makes sure there are no obstacles along the way - no safe is uncrackable, no prison inescapable, and no problem unsolvable, so long as the Rogue is there to work their magic.
MAGE
"One who guides [Aspect] or guides [Aspect] for themselves."
Mages are prophets, of the "always correct" variety - or so it seems. In actuality, Mages don't "predict" the future, they "choose" it - in a setting where the future is mutable, the Mage's ability is to speak into existence a future they desire, to tip the scales of causality and collapse possibilities into a single definite course. Their Aspect is the lens through which their "prophecy" occurs, a realm in which they command the fabric of reality itself.
As if to karmically balance this incredible power, Mages are afflicted by deep and terrible sadness. They start the game miserable, having been subjected to the greatest injustices their Aspect can offer, tormented by guilt, shame, and self-loathing. Their worldview has been shadowed with a lens of suffering and anguish, and so, too, is their view of the future. Mages usually begin the game having already set several prophecies into motion, and these early prophecies are usually obstacles that the party must overcome.
Mages "guide their Aspect" - this refers to the way their prophecies, that is, their chosen futures, always come true. Their visions may be limited to the sway of their Aspect, but it remains a powerful ability nonetheless. "Guiding their Aspect for themselves," then, outlines the Class's Active nature - the futures the Mage picks must be ones the Mage believes will come to pass.
Unfortunately, Mages have a tendency to pick ugly futures. This isn't out of malice or anger; this is because Mages start the game sad, and without intervention, grow sadder. They're prone to spirals of negativity, self-loathing, and depression, and as their outlook dims, so, too, do their forecasts. Mages suffer, but even suffering can grow familiar - can even appear comfortable or desirable, if the Mage suffers long enough. It's easy for them to grow so accustomed to misery that misery is the only outcome they can see - spelling doom for the rest of the party, one prediction at a time.
But a Mage whose party shows them kindness and forgiveness, compassion and empathy, can pull them out of their misery. How beautiful, then, the future appears! A Mage who believes in a brighter future is a force to be reckoned with. When a Mage can bring themselves to say, "and everyone lived happily ever after," you had better believe they did.
SEER
"One who who is guided by [Aspect] or guides [Aspect] for others."
Seers, meanwhile, are the true future-sighted, able to see the myriad paths the future could take. Like Mages, their Aspect serves as the lens by which their vision is colored; the Seer can sense, with fine accuracy, which paths are closest to the sway of their aspect, and which paths will take them further away. As if gifted with a guide to the game, their intuition is tied directly to the mechanics of SBURB, and they serve as the party's guides, a role indispensable in a game with so many moving parts.
Seers will struggle with blindness, first by hubris and ego, and then by self-harm. Seers begin the game quite full of themselves, proud of their prowess in their Aspect - usually arrogantly so. When this pride is inevitably shattered, Seers have a tendency to deal with their feelings of shame and guilt with willful, self-induced blindness - as if flipping a switch, they become ashamed of the pride they once placed in their Aspect, and seek to place as much distance between it and themselves as possible. There's comfort in ignorance, even if it renders the Seer useless.
Seers are "guided by their Aspect" - able to sense its presence, they gravitate toward it, and towards futures with it in abundance. And, in the same way, they "guide their Aspect for others," lighting the way for others down the path of greatest reward. Seers truly love their Aspect, no matter how much they may misplace their faith in it, and seeking it out is a great joy for them.
This is why a Seer at their worst is so tragic. By inducing intentional blindness within themselves, they are functionally deadening the strongest part of their soul. No matter the temporary relief this brings to the sharp, jagged pain of shame, it invariably deepens the Seer's suffering, as they deny themselves not only their own joy, but their ability to help others - another act which inherently delights them.
Thus, a Seer needs to be made to deal with their shattered ego head-on, to accept their own shortcomings, to become at ease with the idea that they don't have all the answers. Once their vision becomes clear, and their view becomes honest, the party nevermore has to fear becoming lost or straying from the path - the Seer will see to that.
WITCH
"One who changes [Aspect] or changes [Aspect] in others."
Witches are the winds of change, tweaking reality all around them until it suits their desires. A Witch is presence that commands both fear and respect, and their Aspect bows down before them, reduced to a mere minion in the Witch's presence, ready to attend to all their needs. In a way, the Witch's powers are straightforward - they can manipulate their Aspect as they desire, changing its qualities as they see fit. "How they see fit," then, is where the issue lies.
Witches are usually of "outsider" status, never truly being part of the society from which the rest of the party descends. Free from the same rules and common sense that govern the others on their team, Witches instead operate on a value system heavily reliant on their own emotions. What a Witch deems to be correct, to be true, or to be righteous, are often based not in any objective measure, but in subjective, emotional bias - and they're emotional creatures, indeed. Prone to fits of great anger, Witches can be benevolent one second and malicious the next, and their abilities let them imprint, to a greater degree than any other Class, their desires onto the world that comes after them.
Witches "change their Aspect," as in, the crux of their abilities lies in manipulating the qualities of their Aspect in their surroundings - extending, shortening, magnifying, shrinking, growing, removing⊠so on and so forth. It's a fearsome power. They also "change their Aspect for themselves" - their Aspect is hapless but to obey their desires; Witches change the world to suit themselves, and their feelings of how things "should" be often become how things "are" in short order.
Thus, a Witch who has been swayed toward evil entities and nefarious ends is a truly dangerous opponent - and it is unfortunately easy for this to happen. Witches' social isolation means they tend to trust their emotions, and a force that flatters these emotions can easily win a Witch's trust. By the same token, those that fail to flatter the Witch are often considered enemies, even if they're benevolent forces. A Witch's morality can thus become warped and topsy-turvy, which has grave consequences for the world that the Witch then shapes.
Therefore, a Witch's struggle lies in learning to see beyond their own emotions, to take in the opinions and assistance of others even when it seems superficially unpleasant, to move beyond the childlike rejection of that which is uncomfortable. Once able to see a more nuanced form of right and wrong, once able to tell evil from good, Witches can build even utopia.
SYLPH
"One who allows [Aspect] to change others or changes [Aspect] for others."
Sylphs are nurturers and healers; they bring to mind fey folk whose very footsteps cause plants to grow. Wherever they go, whatever they touch, all becomes suffused with the Sylph's Aspect, which flourishes under their careful cultivation. Sylphs adore their Aspect, and their Aspect adores them; Sylphs generally feel at peace with themselves, surrounding themselves with what they like.
A Sylph's main challenge - or rather, the main challenge that Sylphs wind up posing the rest of the party - is that Sylphs are enablers. They're attracted to those with strong wills and extreme dispositions, amused by the havoc they wreak and pleased by their attention. Sylphs love to pick out favorites and lavish them with care and attention, excusing any wrongdoing on their behalf and shielding them from consequences. At the same time, those who don't strike the Sylph's capricious fancy find themselves discarded in the Sylph's mind, shut out from the boons the Sylph can provide.
A Sylph is "one who allows their Aspect to change others" - this almost always manifests as healing, as it's an additive ability (that is to say, the Sylph can grant more of their Aspect to someone). "Changing their Aspect for others," on the other hand, explains this enabling nature of theirs - the Sylph will intervene to make the world into a playground for their favored individuals, even to the point of turning other, less "interesting" teammates into playthings for the Sylph's beloved.
Thus, while the Sylph themself isn't particularly prone to wild mood swings and acts of malice, their influence can still cause disaster by allowing unscrupulous individuals to flourish - even encouraging their worst tendencies. A Sylph's touch is subtle, but that subtlety only lends it an insidious quality, as the Sylph quietly works against the good of the many for the cruel, selfish pleasures of the few. At their very worst, the Sylph can deem themselves their only favorite, and render everyone else a minor character in their one-man show.
Thus, Sylphs must be challenged. They must be made to reckon with the fact that favorable treatment is not necessarily kindness, and that bias can easily become harm. When a Sylph is able to grasp the difference between bias and doing good, and tune their approach toward that greater good, uncolored by bias and personal preference, then there is no place safer, kinder, and more conducive to growth than the Sylph's embrace.
PRINCE
"One who destroys [Aspect] or destroys using [Aspect]."
Princes are the most anxious, psychologically anguished members of a party. They suffer from a toxic overabundance of their Aspect - its traits are taken to an extreme, and not only the Prince, but those around them, are made to suffer for it. Princes are naturally set on a path of self-destruction, the culmination of their uncontrolled accumulation of their Aspect, and their meltdowns are spectacular, taking their Aspect - and whoever is unlucky enough to be in the same room - with them.
A Prince's challenge, therefore, is as simple to understand as it is difficult to overcome. The Prince needs to learn how to calm down, relax, and find inner peace. Princes are terribly prone to circular thinking and downward spirals. Their natural inclination is to feel anxious and responsible, like they carry the weight of the world, and this causes them to act out in extreme and aggressive ways. Eventually, others pull away, put off by the Prince's intensity. This only deepens the Prince's malaise, and Princes are - pushed by this hovering sense of urgency and catastrophe - willing to employ drastic, desperate measures to enforce compliance with their wills. They wake on their moons early, reflective of their driven natures. They're determined to a frightful degree, and no sacrifice is too great, no work too dirty, if it means achieving what they see as the greater good.
Princes "destroy their Aspect" in this way - by presenting their Aspect at its worst, they make others take distance, ruining it for everyone else. Their hard wills, intense emotions, and unshakeable drive to do what (they feel) needs to be done - at any cost - is their source of power. Thus, Princes "destroy using their Aspect" - their toxic overabundance of Aspect lets them channel it into a pure, annihilatory force; what they lack in the delicate utility of the other classes, they make up for in raw, ruinous power. Princes can easily deal the greatest damage in a combat scenario, their ability to destroy overriding nearly everything that would stand against it.
Thus is the problem with Princes. They're ticking time-bombs of anxiety and frustration; when they finally go off, they carve a path of destruction, before ultimately self-destructing, leaving no trace of their Aspect behind. Not only that, but it's very difficult to defuse the bomb early; Princes have finicky, aggressive, and complicated personalities, and tend to react poorly to straightforward attempts to calm them down and reason with them. They often appear to be their own worst enemies, marching inexorably toward their own destruction.
But Princes not only can be saved, but must be saved. They must be saved because kindness and compassion must exist for their own sake, and a Prince rescued from their own worst tendencies is living proof of the truth of that sentiment. A Prince, given the peace they need to reorient their priorities, will not rest until they see a brighter future realized. They will be the first to rise, and the last man standing, banishing - as if by royal decree - all obstacles, all enemies, all misfortune, and all ills.
BARD
"One who invites destruction through [Aspect] or allows [Aspect] to be destroyed."
Bards are the wild cards of a party, responsible for both improbable victories and catastrophic defeats - sometimes both in a single session. The methods by which a Bard works are a mystery to even the Bard themselves, which make it easy for the party to dismiss their powers - and, by extension, the Bard themselves. After all, who would expect there to be consequences for something so ridiculous as a Bard?
Bards are usually targets of abject ridicule by their teams. They can't help it - they're religious types, or at least types that hold great, lofty, ridiculous beliefs near and dear to their hearts. A Bard's primary struggle invariably winds up being a crisis of faith. Bards begin the game with a positive, "correct" faith in their Aspect; however, something will inevitably occur that shakes the Bard's faith in this viewpoint to its core. In this state, Bards are incredibly fragile, and it's very easy for them to succumb to whispers of cruelty and destruction, for their beliefs to warp, and for the Bard to come to serve the worst aspects of the society they represent.
A Bard "invites destruction through their Aspect" - their powers are subtle, but have catastrophic effects. Bards are instinctively drawn towards causing the first flap of a butterfly's wing, which cascades into a grand, impossible karmic backlash. They "allow their Aspect to be destroyed" by being the conduits for the forces of their faith - whatever faith they hold - to wreak unimaginable consequences across the game.
Thus, a Bard must not be allowed to fall into darkness. The cost is too great. They must be treated with kindness, patience, and sincerity, and given a chance to re-establish their faith in a better, brighter future. If this can be done, then at the party's direst moment - in their darkest hour - they will find that kindness paid back a thousandfold, as an innocuous act by the Bard that no one remembers balloons into a miracle.
#homestuck#homestuck analysis#classpect#classpecting#classpects#homestuck classpect#this essay is 10k words long#you may be wondering why i didn't split it up into smaller essays and the answer is pretty simple#so many of these ideas are interconnected and interrelated that it's not actually useful to hear about JUST Hope or JUST Maids or JUST Heir#like even aside from the equal-and-opposite splits#(which is how some of the less thoroughly explored classes and aspects need to be understood)#there's things like how pages actually start in deficit of their aspect personality-wise#jake has few convictions and is wishy-washy - tavros lacks freedom and independence - horuss lacks simplicity and emptiness#this isn't something you would âgetâ if you didnt know about the way aspect is tied to personality#it's fascinating because if you compare characters that share the same class similar things keep jumping out#but yeah again i have textual evidence to support every claim so please feel free to ask#i just couldn't justify doubling or even tripling the length of the essay to include things like#'ever notice how karkat - the BONDS and FRIENDSHIP knight - has a big Leader Who Dont Need No Friendship persona#and how dave - the Details and Minutiae knight - has a disaffected coolkid who doesn't give a shit about anything persona#and how latula - the Justice and Cunning knight - has a loud dumb obnoxious gamegrl nice-to-everyone persona#which she even admits is a persona she uses to hide how smart she is out of the apparent anxiety that people won't like her otherwise#i know people will object to the heir thing because 'mituna was oppressed on beforus' but let me clarify here#heirs are set to inherit comfortable lifestyles and wealth *by the standards of their society*#john is literally the heir of crockercorp and equius is blueblood nobility#but if you really think about it those aren't necessarily happy outcomes either#john would've had to become a stuffy businessman like Dad (and an evil capitalist lol)#and equius is also Still Oppressed and would've had to become a murderer cop#but it's still a position of wealth and comfort *for their society* - mituna would've been culled (like sollux)#but that would've meant being pampered and provided for#which is a great deal by the standards of his society regardless of how good or bad (bad) it actually is in practice
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See, I think Charlesâ annoyance and frustration with the Cat King really was just pure protectiveness and not any kind of jealousy - itâs understandable, because Edwin is not telling him what happened even though something clearly did, which is not typical for them. Edwin doesnât usually hide things like this! Of course heâs worried!
Charlesâ reaction to Monty, on the other hand, is difficult to explain in a way that isnât jealousy. You could say heâs being protective again, but Charles shows no sign of distrust in Monty, and had no idea of who Monty was or that he might betray them - he was actually very chill with him, except in a select few specific scenes. You could say he just doesnât like him because he got brushed off during their first meeting, but not only does that not seem like Charles at all, it also doesnât make sense, since, again, in most instances, Charles is genuinely friendly and is happy when Monty compliments him and seems to have come around to liking him (it completely flies over his head that this is a petty jab at Edwin on Montyâs part but oh well hahaha). You could say it changes up their status quo a bit and that bothers Charles. I do think this bothers him a bit, but I think, unlike Edwin, Charlesâ fear and frustration here is directed more at situations (the Cat King whisking him away for several hours, as an example) than others. Heâs sociable and likes being able to talk to new people. Thereâs absolutely no way heâd begrudge Edwin doing the same - and he doesnât⊠with Niko. Edwin and Niko hit it off and become very close and that never bothers Charles at all. Heâs incredibly endeared to her, just like the rest, and for the most part, heâs chill with Monty too, and smiles pretty knowingly when Edwin confesses to him having awakened some feelings. The only exceptions, where he shows definite annoyance, are when Monty first shows up and gets really in Edwinâs personal space to show him the astrology chart he made, and when Edwin is so sucked into the book Monty gave him that he doesnât hear that Charles is talking to him, to which he annoyedly says that they seem to have been âspending a lot of time togetherâ.
You could say heâs unused to having anyone get in Edwinâs personal space like that, but, again, Niko. Sheâs very tactile with him and he doesnât seem to mind all that much; they spend time together watching things. If it was just someone getting close with Edwin in general, not only would that be weirdly possessive for the character, but it would also mean he would show discomfort with anyone getting close, I think. Does Charles see Monty as more of a potential threat than Niko, seeing as he knows her and her personality and doesnât know Monty? Well, maybe, but again, Charles shows no sign of distrusting Monty at all.
Monty is a boy. Okay. So something about seeing Edwin so close to a boy that is not him, getting lost in thought over something this boy gave him, really rubs Charles the wrong way. Charles appears to catch on just as quickly as anyone else that there is something (or it looks like something) between Edwin and Monty. He is not surprised when Edwin comes out to him in episode 6, and in fact, seems to have just been waiting for him to verbalize it. He smiles and is not bothered at all by Edwin showing (what he thinks is) a romantic interest in Monty - he just doesnât like it when Monty clearly shows a romantic interest in Edwin. Um. Well. Well.
Charles is jealous. I really donât know what else to say.
Look, when I first watched this show, I actually didnât want them to end up together romantically - I love the idea of one having fallen in love with another who does not reciprocate and the two of them still loving each other just as much. That Edwinâs confession made them closer instead of making things awkward is such a beautiful outcome to this build up and I absolutely love it. However. On my two rewatches, I caught a lot more little details, and I think it would be very strange if the show did not follow up on this. That, plus the deliberate quality of these âjealousyâ moments where the camera focuses on him, Charlesâ Orpheus coding throughout the show, the fact that Edwinâs arc was far more about realizing his feelings for Charles specifically than just coming to terms with his sexuality, and that even the actors admit that Charlesâ response to the confession kind of left things open, it really seems to me like the path leads to a romantic endgame for them, or at the very least, that this possibility will be explored in more depth.
**This is just my reading of it. Please do not use this post as a gotcha for anyone who loves them as a platonic duo or people who really love Crystal and Charles together (because letâs face it, theyâre super cute too). Iâm just doing my rambles. As per usual.
#listen this got really long and Iâm sorry but I wanted to be sure I covered all my bases because#I flat out hate the old argument of âit (romance) is the only possible explanation!â with regards to strong bonds#because it so often invalidates strong platonic expressions of love#but⊠*gestures above*#theyâre going to need to address this at some point I think#I really hope though that if the relationship becomes more romantic#that this does not happen in season 2 but in season 3 or something#make it a good build and emphasize the importance of their existing platonic bond#I want their bond to continue to change and grow closer via their friendship first before evolving into romantic tension :)#(also I have faith in these writers but Iâll always be worried about what happens to Crystal with all this. pls donât cast her asideâŠ)#the smart thing would be to have Crystal have more of the main plot action and Charles more of the feelings arc#for season 2. thatâs what Iâm hoping#not just any romance or jealousy for Charles but also feelings around his family and dad and his wants and fears and all that#storyrambles#this got away from me again haha#should I use my analysis tag? does this count??? âŠIâm using it. ->#call me ace detective the way I am ace. and also a detective.#dead boy detectives#I also love the idea of a canon gay couple in an overall queer narrative because thatâs beautiful#please I want it to happen#charles rowland#edwin payne#payneland#dbda meta#dbda spoilers
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average sarahpuppy interaction:
#a real love triangle (read; bisexual)#i love the idea of sarah constantly having homoerotic friendships with girls#kind of canon for those with eyes to see (kie and cleo)#anyway back to puppy and sarah#puppy sees goodness in sarah and loves her kind heart and resilinace#sarah loves puppyâs honesty and how she doesnât judge her like the others (they love her but they do sometimes)#they both had a unique upbringing that no one else gets but e/o so of course the bond over that
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i think that viewing the little hope relationships as just âfamilyâ ( specifically : blood family, ones with traditional roles and relationships, one bred from a nuclear familial structure ) has a habit of dismissing them entirely. it is not blood that binds them together, nor is it family structures, and throughout every iteration of their lives things change. sometimes theyâre merely neighbors with a slim portion of blood relation, sometimes theyâre bound by flimsy paper or war, and sometimes theyâre students at a college following their professor around. the nature of their relationships change, as do their circumstances and surroundings, but they ( as a mismatched unit ) are eternally bound and divided by a child and an inherent, unescapable tragedy. the important aspect of their relationships is that they are agonized individuals who are stuck together and wouldnât like to be. the important theme between them is that despite their determined suffering, all the bad ways they clash, and in spite of a bubbling self loathing so awful that it literally kills them, they have found love and comfort in each other anyway, or perhaps have realized a love that has always been there. thereâs no âi love you as a daughterâ between angela and taylor, just as much as there isnât any âi love you as a siblingâ between dennis and tanya. they just love each other. even the clarke family, arguably the most familial bond they have, still isnât traditional. none of them are blood and all of them are strangers inside their own home. they donât look alike and they donât share dna and they typically donât care for the facade of a family either, more content to treat each other like roommates at best, and thatâs fascinating because why would they care? why would standard labels matter to souls as ancient as theirs? itâs just another flesh they adorn, itâs just another pain theyâll carry and shape and hate. idk! i just think forcing titles on it all is rather boring in nature, and actively hinders the genuine relationships there, in an attempt to have a rulebook of sorts to follow. i also just loathe how the found family trope is constantly turned into a literal family, when it was made to spit in the face of a nuclear family structure. but thatâs just me <3
#my posts.#if you believe in the reincarnation theory than HOW can you only view the relationships through a family lense#in two out of three of the timelines we see â they are not family!! not all of them anyway.#they put on different titles but their bonds remain the same.#all the masks in the world cant change their instinctive feelings for each other. good AND bad!#there is a lot of âyou cannot hide from yourselfâ in lh and i do think thatâs important#they are always themselves. no matter what time period theyâre from or how theyâre raised or how different they now are. etc#so viewing things as like âoh theyâre father/sonâ doesnt do much for me#joseph and abraham start out as equals and close friends despite their age difference. and you see that friendship between john and andrew!#at least more than a typical parent-child dynamic#daniel and taylor are lovers and itâs heavily implied their feelings for each other have always been intense and more romantic in nature#despite their original label as siblings#so on so forth. john and angela being married in past lives is sweet but it never becomes their main reason for caring about each other#angela ( even at the end of things ) still mocks the idea of being married to john and actively doesnât care for it.#but that doesnât negate her love for him â romantic and otherwise!#again idk!! little hope has some of the best relationships ive ever seen and i think its because of this aspect#at their core theyâre soulmates in horror. which is a better way to view them as opposed to family imo#the group entirely is far from traditional and i love it!!! i love a love and pain that transcends time plot#and lh actively does it so well âŠ#i could say more on this but im a bit hungover and stuff alas ugh#but. idk! in my eyes they are NOT a nuclear family lol. not even the clarkes were one#their characters and relationships are so profound BECAUSE they are stripped of labels in my eyes. they are all an exposed nerve of a thing
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Benny: Thanks for not giving up on me, brother.
Dean: Don't give me a reason to.
(im going to throw up)
#DONT GIVE ME A REASON TO. DONT GIVE ME A REASON#'benny's the only one who has never let me down'#HE DOESN'T EVEN GET THE CHANCE TO HUH#BENNY IS DEAN'S MANIC PIXIE DREAM VAMPIRE WHO NEVER DISAGREES WITH HIM OR DOES THE WRONG THING#its sooo. its so pointed. its. this whole parallel sam to benny is so. im think i hauve covid#dean constantly hammering in to sam's head that He Failed. He Failed. He Let Him Down. He Failed. He Broke Everything Between Them.#and benny. benny. oh my god.#don't give me a reason to...#oh to live in the alternate reality where benny does fuck up and fucks up bad#what does dean do then. if his vampire friend was put up against the wall by hunger or a hunter#if he had to lash out. even if he didn't want to. is dean gonna stand by him then?#or does benny go join the long list of people who have let him down. and dean pulls a machete.#how quickly does that trust bleed out huh? how easily do you break a bond that hasn't been tested beyond battle and clandestine meetings#maybe it does happen and im just not remembering that it does. god i hope so. i need to see them get messed up.#dean/benny is so good and messy to me actually.#benny doesn't even know these expectations are being hoisted on him. he's never there when dean talks about how everyone else in his life#failed him. benny just thinks this is a normal (well. 'normal'. they were in purgatory. and probably had wild bloody sex in those woods)#but a normal friendship. and has no idea he's on any kind of pedestal. god. terrifying. imagine being pushed off a cliff you didn't know yo#were on the edge of. that's the situation benny is in rn#anyway! fun normal show for normal people!#benny lafitte#dean winchester#spn
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really long rant (happy rant) in the tags, mostly towards @synthetic-lavender /vpos
romance repulsed aros and romance favourable aros are both cool and valid but because i never see anything about us: shoutout to romance indifferent aros. romance neutral aros. aros who just couldn't care less. aros who have a conflicted relationship with romance. aros who are fine with romance in some contexts but not in others. aros who don't mind romance when it's not amatonormativity being shoved down their throats. aros who haven't yet figured out their feelings about romance. aros to whom romance is Just Something That Exists. y'all are rad as hell and it's okay not to 'pick a side'!!
#Iâm an aro who is heavily indifferent about romance except for when it comes to our beloved Freya because we love her as both a friend#and as a lover.#thereâs a saying we like to go by that we picked up on from one of our favorite songs#âKiss whoever makes you feel sound but it takes time man to figure it all outâ#AND WE STRONGLY STAND BY THAT.#Weâve been through so many relationships that romance isnât really a thing anymore to us because of trauma and abuse. We only felt romance#towards two people (Freya being one of them) that itâs lowkey so numbing to us but yet we also like the idea of romance because like#you get to share your life and your life experiences with somebody you love and itâs the most amazing thing ever because it builds the bond#between you guys closer and stronger and itâs beautiful.#but yet itâs so confusing and new to us still because like. whenever we think about freya it gets so gushy and messy because we actually#love her and itâs so strange and new because sheâs actually a really good person.#I tell you. Freya is literally one of the best person in the world. Freya would literally sit there and wait for you to return and would#wait for you forever and looks past the abuse and misguidance you went through with the person that abused you previously because deep down#inside she knows thatâs thereâs a gentle and sweet and caring being within you that wants to be let out and free.#she looks past the facades and masks youâd go through to please people and brings out the best in you. she knows that you wouldnât act that#way and she knows that youâre equally as much as a being as she is.#she knows deep down inside that you have a huge distaste towards cursing all the time she knows that you want to help everyone and she know#that no matter what anyone tells you that your interests will always be apart of who you truly are#a childish fun-loving sweet person who just wants everyone to be okay.#she sees past all of the dirt thatâs been put in my mouth and understands that what you had to do was to survive.#and god darn it. you survived. youâre still surviving.#and you canât help but melt because all youâve known are false loves and friendships and relationships yet this is real.#sheâs real. sheâs so. kind and pure. she doesnât want any trouble or rottenness to be spread around. she just wants everyone to be happy.#like you.#not all of us are designed to be with everyone. some of us need more care and kindness than others.#and. I think Freya. is the right one for me. for us. for us as a system. but. especially for. me.#Freya reminds me of the first person that first truly loved us and I love that because Freya is better than the first person we actually ha#feelings for. They even have a similar-ish name. Felicity. Freya. both begins with F has an e within their names and has a y close to the#end of both their names.#having someone that reminds you of someone you truly loved and cared for and having someone whoâs an actual good pure person is. the best.
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Summary: After the Mingle game, your friends win the vote and get to go home. You reunite with Dae-Ho on the outside and finally get to go on that date.
Warnings: Eventual smut, friends to lovers speedrun, fem reader, switch! Dae-Ho, handjobs, mutual blowjobs, fingering, p in v, safe sex, I donât know what happens to them right after they vote to leave. Only what happens after,
Word Count: 3,769 words
You couldnât believe it, was it too good to be true? 51 votes for X, 49 votes for O. Everyone around you on your side cheered, wept with joy and relief. The nightmare was over. And you wouldnât go home empty handed either. 300 million was enough for you to clear your debt, finally start over.
And maybe, not alone.
You feel arms wrap around you tightly, shaking you like a Ragdoll. It was Dae-Ho. The two of you had formed a bond since being in here. The friendship was instant. His bright and bubbly personality pulling you in like a moth to a flame. Only, there was no pain. He looked out for you every step of the way. You were inseparable. The two of you even arranging a date of sorts once on the outside. You remember how he asked too, the boy was nervous, prepared to laugh the idea off painfully if rejected.
In disbelief, you slowly wrap your arms back around the man. Everything fell silent to your ears. Dae-Ho screams out with joy alongside his mentor, Jung-Bae, before looking at you again. He had the brightest of grins on his face. He cupped the sides of your face briefly, so happy, he could kiss you.
Could.
He lets go of your face after tenderly gazing into your eyes. You step forward and tightly hug him close, finally allowing everything to process. You were going home. You were safe.
Dae-Hoâs also overwhelmed with emotion, embracing you close. His hand gently pets the back of your hair, pressing his head against it. His heart was soaring with relief, and care, knowing youâd be okay.
âWe did itâŠâ
He murmured. Youâre barely able to hear him through the cheers. âYeah⊠weâre going home.â You chuckle weakly.
But the world wouldnât grant you a moment of peace, no, not for a second.
âPlease line up, you will be escorted out in an orderly fashion the same way you were brought in.â
It all came crashing down. You were leaving, now. You and Dae-Ho break apart quick at the realization. Guards were already pouring in. Thereâs so much you wanted to say, goodbyes you had to give! Team O did something helpful for once though, they bought you time as they started to argue against this.
âW-weâre leaving nowâŠ?!â
You see more guards taking control of the situation. People were being separated. You look to Dae-Ho, who was just as unsure and panicked. But then he visibly lightens up with realization.
âThe korean barbecue place I told you about! Meet me there in two days! Noon!â
He tried to reach out to you, but the crowd began to push. You felt your anxiety beginning to slow at his request. You didnât have his phone number, or his address, hell, you didnât even know what area he lived in, but that was a start. You nod vigorously.
âO-Okay! Iâll see you there!â
A relived smile befalls Dae-Ho, knowing he at least got that out before heâs ushered away.
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Two days passed, and you were at the place to be. It was a tough, settling back. You swore youâd never see the light of day again. Waking up on a cold street while half naked wasnât exactly a pleasurable experience. Neither was choking out a card in your mouth, but alas. But you got your shit sorted, and now you were here.
Only issue now was, you didnât know what time to arrive! You wanted to play it safe and meet a little early, wearing your best. You didnât exactly know how much effort to put into this. What do you wear to something like this? Was it a date? Or a meetup with a crush? Or, a meet with just a friend?
You wait, and wait. An hour passed, then two.
You looked like a madman from how much you kept looking about.
But then it hit you.
What if he doesnât show?
What if he didnt feel the same?
What were you thinking? That a man you knew for three days would have such strong feelings for you? Maybe you got your hopes up. Maybe he was too busy for you. You frown to yourself, your breathing getting faster. From where you sat, you hugged yourself. You were a miserable sight.
But then, like an angelâs choir, you hear,
â(Y,n)!â
It was slightly distant. Your head snapped up at the all too familiar voice. Making their way through the bustling crowd, was Dae-Ho. His hair wasnât tied in his usual top knot, but down, letting the fluff bounce freely. The once unforgiving sunlight was now shining on the man like a star, only making him glow. He maneuvers his way through the mass and pops out holding a bouquet of ruby red roses. He pants, standing in front of you with that nervous smile of his.
âI-Iâm so sorry, were you waiting long? Thereâs two different ones here. The one I went to was all the way acrossâ a-and I waited and waited before I realized you were probably here! Andââ
Youâre unable to stay away any longer. You stand up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close. Dae/Ho stops his rambles, instead, tucking an arm around your waist and holding you close, his other arm holding the flowers. âA-are you okay?â He asks with concern. You smile ear to ear, chuckling.
âIâm just really happy to see you, Dae-Ho.â
Your response made the boy sigh in relief, happy he didnât upset you.
âI am too, really. I couldnât get you off my mind.â
Youâd pull away, still smiling joyously. Finally, you address the flowers in his hands. âOh my goshâŠ!â You take them, giddy as a kid on their birthday. Dae-Ho smiles brightly at your enjoyment.
âI hope theyâre not damaged or anything⊠I kinda sprinted everywhere to make it here.â
He confesses. You donât notice a single flaw, but you also donât care to notice. âI love them.ïżœïżœïżœ You solidify your appreciation. Dae-Ho looks up at the restaurant sign and back to you, licking his lips a moment. âYou ready to go inside?â He sticks his hand out for you to take. Your heart felt full, and you take his hand. Butterflies fluttering along in your stomach.
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The day didnât end there. Dae-Ho took you out to see all the sights there were to see in his town. The two of you hand in hand, throughout the day, you didnât drop your roses. From checking out different shops, interacting with street performers, and getting some sweet treats. Life hasnât been so terrible since you both no longer had terrible debts to worry about. Even if it was blood money, and came with such terrible trauma, at least you wouldnât have to go through it alone. You had someone to lean on through it.
Now, you two ended up at one of the hotels. You were sitting outside on one of the fountains, scrolling through your phone with laughter. âAww, this oneâs cute!â The two of you were admiring photos of today. You had taken a special liking to the man giving a cute peace sign over some deserts. Dae-Ho huffs, but couldnât get his grin off his face.
âYou donât think I look dorky? I can take a more manly photo for you if you want.â
To prove his point, heâd flex his arm muscle. You giggle, patting his shoulder before you simply rest your hand there.
âI think you look perfect.â
Something about the way you said it, made Dae-Ho gulp subtly. His dark eyes gazing at you with awe. To calm his quick beating heart, he deflects off of him.
âI⊠wanna do this again, sometime.â
The ball was now in your court. Your heart skipped a beat. You look down a little bashfully.
âYâknow, I was kinda afraid for a while you didnât⊠Yâknow⊠That maybe it was just the heat of the moment from the games.â
Dae-Hoâs eyes widen. He lets out a dry chuckle, casting his eyes away. âTime went by differently for me there, I think. It honestly felt like I was there with you for a lot longer than it actually was.â He says truthfully. His exterior that was once shining, was now shy. You donât say anything, allowing him to continue.
âEvery second I spent with you, is all I wanted to do with my time.â
He looks back to you, his words carried a weight heavier than any boulder. You bring your hands to your lap, setting the roses aside. A crooked smile forms on your face as you shyly glance at your thighs.
âWell, itâs good to know Iâm not crazy then⊠because I felt the same.â
When you look back to Dae-Ho, you see him gazing with an expression youâre unable to pinpoint. A mixture of adoration, and yearing. His pupils dart toward your lips, and then back to your eyes. He gulps again, unable to meet them for long. But you got the hint. You purse your lips, and gently cup his face. It regains his attention immediately. Heâs close, you can feel the heat from his skin, his breath on your hand. He looks at your lips again, and leans in. You meet him halfway, and the two of you share a loving kiss. His lips molded with yours almost perfectly, like thatâs where they were meant to be.
__________________ ŚŚà«ąàŒàŒàż
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â ââ â .
â â âË â â â â â â â â â
â§. â â â â â â â â â â
â â
The next thing either of you knew, youâre trading kisses as Dae-Ho tries unlocking the door to his apartment complex. Your kissing was passionate, forward. All of your want and need was transferred which each tongue exchange.
As soon as youâre both inside, the man shuts the door and you press him against it, not breaking the kiss for a sweat. He moans softly against your lips, his tone urging his desire forward. Your kiss grew sloppier, but consistent as you run your hasty hands under his shirt. Feeling his toned stomach, you press your body against him further. You drew another moan out of Dae-Ho, the male gasping and breaking the kiss so he could say,
âI-Iâm sorry, I wasnât e-expecting company soâŠnghâŠâ
You were barely listening, leaving pecks down his neck. Little nips to his skin lead to full love bites. âFuck, Iâve wanted to do this since I watched you play gongiâŠâ You leave a trail of hickeys on his once clean neck. Dae-Ho brings his finger to his lips, biting down to muffle his whimpers. âW-what do you mean?â He gasps as you release his skin with a âpop.â You meet his eyes, lust shadowing yours.
ââWanted to feel those hands on me.â
You take his hands and place them on your hips. He meets your mouth again, his tongue intertwining with yours in a messy dance. His hands run up your sides and then down to your ass, finally finding a resting point to the back of your thighs. âFuckâŠâ
For once the male was happy to live in a studio. You push him onto the bed, letting him scramble to take off his shirt. You slowly slide down to the ground on your knees. He gazes at you with such kindness and appreciation. He wanted you to feel it, somehow. There was a sea of emotion he was withholding, but you saw lust was the strongest in the waves.
â(Y,n)âŠâ
You look up to him with doe eyes, sending rushes of hunger through him. âCan IâŠ?â
His breathing was uneven, trembling, he nods.
âP-pleaseâŠâ He pulls his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. He was already half hard, and it only grew as you close your hand around it. You admire its length, its width, and most of all, you feel the way it throbbed for you as it grew in your hand. You gave it a few test pumps, making your man bite his lip to stifle a whimper. Once he was fully hardened, you sped up your pace. Dae-Ho whines out, ever the vocal one. But itâs not like you minded, in fact, you encouraged it.
âYouâre being so good for me, Dae-HoâŠâ
Hearing your praise, the male lets out another moan, his eyes closing. You feel his member twitch in your hand. âOh? You liked that didnât you? Wanna be called a good boy?â As soon as the words left your mouth, Dae-Ho moans loudly. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes.
âOh shitâŠâ
You lower your mouth over his throbbing member, keeping your touch ever so soft. The man leans back, looking to the ceiling. âOh fuckâŠ!â He grips the bedsheets beside him. For a brief moment, he nearly grabs your hair, but he stops himself. Instead, he gently runs his fingers through your hair. The way he held back to be a gentleman, it only made you wetter. You use one hand to pump his base while you sucked on the rest. Your other hand slid down under your bottoms, rubbing your already wet cunt. When Dae-Ho notices, his face somehow flushes more. âA-are youâŠ?â To answer, you hum an eager note on his cock, sending vibrations down it.
âFuck~! AhâŠIââ Heâs unable to really keep his train of thought on track as another low groan rumbles through him. âOh my Godââ He just mindlessly babbled on as you took him deeper. Heâd involuntarily jerk his hips upward, and you felt the tip reach the back of your throat. Your gag made Dae-Ho immediately check in, concerned. âI-Iâm sorry! Are youâ fuck!â
But you didnât care much, speeding up your motions. You take him in even deeper, now deep throating him. It hurt a little, but you cared more about the sweet tune of Dae-Hoâs whines. It might be your new favorite song.
â(Y-Y,n)âŠ! Keep going like that and Iâm g-gonnaâŠIâmâŠ!â
He was close, you could feel it. And so you continued your usual motions before showing special attention to his tip, his most sensitive spot. Dae-Ho grit his teeth and cried out, his back arching as he came. His shadow looked glorious, the way it mirrored his position and his gasps. It was almost like a painting, a work of art.
White hot strings enter your mouth, and you swallow it all. You blink up at him, removing your lips and clicking your tongue. Dae-Hoâs expression was priceless, his vulnerability was shown, the walls were down. â(Y,n)âŠâ He cups your face and pulls lightly, a silent gesture he wants you to rise. You do so gracefully and stop. Seeing as the man was basically naked for you, you thought you should return the favor. Dae-Ho watches you slowly strip, undoing your outfit completely. He shakily sighs,
âYouâre so beautifulâŠâ
Once bare, you meet him in a ravenous kiss. Your hands hold the sides of his jaw as he wraps his arm around your waist. He whimpers against your lips, rolling you over so you were on your back, not breaking the kiss for a second. Dae-Ho gently takes both of your hands and pin them above your head, one hand having a grip on your wrists. You lament, feeling more aroused in such a helpless position.
He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. He admires you, your returned flushed face staring back at him lustfully. He leans back down, kissing down your neck. His touch was so sweet, feather light. Every kiss was gentle, as if you were delicate. He kissed down your body, stopping at your chest. His eyes meet yours again, asking for permission. You nod, gulping subtly. Heâd continue, muttering,
âYou deserve to be worshipped.â
He trails his tongue around your nipple and plants a peck on the top, before taking your breast into his mouth. Somehow, he knew the exact way to worship you. He sucked at the perfect intensity and rhythm. With his other hand, he massages your other breast. You loved the way he treated you.
âDae-HoâŠâ
It sent waves of pleasure up your body. He started to work his way down, reaching your drenched pussy.
âGod, youâre soakedâŠâ
His tongue meets your dripping hole, running through your folds. You cry out, gripping his hair lightly. âDae-HoâŠ! Fuck..â You feel his tongue swirl around your clit. The wet muscle circling as he sucked on the pearl. He started eating you out like he was damned starving. You massage his scalp, gripping every now and then. But then, you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you as Dae-Ho inserts a finger. âFuckâŠ!â You whine, your eyes now shut. Sucking on your clit, he adds another, pushing them both in and curling his fingers. Your back arches as youâre shocked from too much stimulation.
âI-Itâs too muchâŠ! D-Dae-Ho! Fuck. T-too m-much!â
âYou can take it.â
His immediate response makes your orgasm race forward faster than you can blink. He continues pushing his fingers in an out of you, curling them each time and abusing your G spot. You cry out his name as you finish all over his face, unable to warn him in time. But he just laps up your juices like any other meal.
Dae-Ho looks back up at you with dreamy eyes. Heâs met with your panting and flushed expression. You reach your hands out, trying to beckon him closer.
âDae-Ho⊠j-just kiss me please!â
You didnât have to tell him twice as he slams his lips on yours, crawling back atop your body. You grind against his now hard again cock, moaning against him. Soft hums and grunts come from his throat and vibrate on your skin. You pull back, needing to feel him inside of you for certainty. âD-do you have a condom?â Your question catches him off guard, but itâs a necessary one. Dae-Ho blinks and nods. âYeahâ one second.â He kisses your cheek, making you smile as he scrambles to grab one.
As soon as he rolled one on, heâs back on top of you, gazing into your eyes once more. You swear you could see an entire night sky in his dark orbs. âDae-HoâŠâ You kiss him again, he more than happily reciprocates. He breathes in through his nose, breathing in you. He lines up his cock with your entrance, pulling back to cup your face.
âDo you want this?â
Consent is a beautiful and mandatory thing. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. You nod, resting your hand atop his with a kind smile.
âI want you, Dae-Ho.â
Dae-Ho leans in and kisses you softly. His lips softly trying to tell you, âIâve got you.â
He slowly enters you, his hands now gripping your hips. You grimace, adjusting to his length. Dae-Ho intertwines his fingers with yours on the bedsheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. His eyes were clamped shut, soft shudders escaping him as he continued in. âFuck⊠(Y,n)âŠâ
He bottoms out, and youâre a whimpering mess. Dae-Ho, despite being in a similar position, slants over and kisses up your neck. His lips comforting you generously.
âThatâs it⊠thatâs my girl.â
Thereâs something about the way he says it that makes your heart flutter.
âYeah⊠yeah, fuck, your girl.â
He starts to move slowly, his breathing shaky from ecstasy. He mewls in your ear, biting his lip at an attempt to keep quiet. But you werenât going to let that slide. ââŠWanna hear you⊠wanna hear how good you feel.â You order. Dae-Hoâs hips stutter before he speeds up his thrusts. He lets out a louder whimper, you match his vocals, gripping his shoulders.
âD-Dae!â
â(Y,n)âŠ!â
He holds you closer to him, his thrusts getting faster and deeper. His body was warm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every push and movement.
âTell me Iâm yours,â
He starts, his voice dripping with need.
âTell me youâll stay.â
The vulnerability in his tone was enough to make you tear up. He was opening his heart out to you, leaving himself exposed. You wrap your arms around his back, covering his open wound with your own body. You cradle his head in your hand.
âIâll stay, youâre mine, and Iâm yours.â
Your words of affirmation carry in the air. Dae-Ho hugs you even tighter. â(Y,n)!â He goes at an incredible speed, pounding into you. You claw at his back, needing the support. âDae-Ho!â You wail, overwhelmed with pleasure. The male moves from your neck to rest his forehead against his. You feel every bit of love he was pumping into you. Itâs a different level of intimacy, truly seeing each otherâs soul like this.
You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach. âDae-Ho~! Iâm close!â You moan, moaning in rhythm with each thrust. Dae-Ho nods frantically. âM-me too! Fuck⊠fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckâŠ!â Heâs unable to control his blabbering mouth. âFuck. (Y,n)âyouâre so good. So good. Need you⊠fuckâŠgonnaââ
With that, you both come undone together, your moaning screams mixing together. Dae-Ho nearly collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his face resting in your neck again. You pant, running your fingers through his hair as you both close your eyes.
Heâd roll to his side, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom, tossing it into a trash can by his desk. He lays back down, resting on your collarbone. His arm snugly tucks around your waist.
âDid you mean it⊠what you said?â
Dae Hoâs question was so innocent, full of hope. He looked up at you expectantly. You feel yourself melt under his gaze, smiling softly and cupping his cheek.
âOf course I did. Iâm yours.â
A satisfied smile forms on his face and he rests back down, closing his eyes with contentment. The two of you play together for the rest of the night. The last thing youâd hear before your slumber was a small mutter from your boy.
âIâm yours.â
#dae ho#dae ho x reader#dae ho squid game#squid game#squid game s2#squid game x reader#squid game smut#kang dae ho x reader#kang dae ho#Spotify
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Relativity Falls!
Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):
Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.
I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.
Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.
Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.
Stanford and Stanley:
Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.
Fiddleford:
He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.
Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).
Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)
On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).
Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.
(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)
#fanart#gravity falls#relativity falls#relativity au#mabel pines#dipper pines#stanford pines#stanley pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddauthor#(if you wish)#I wasn't planning on doing any AU fanart#but designing mabel was way too fun#damn i didn't even draw bill#oh well#i have mixed feelings and ideas for how he'd fit in anyways
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âlovers once a yearâ | 9.4k
dbf!joel miller x f!reader
SUMMARY: One always craves what is out of reach. Like the forbidden fruit that lingers just beyond grasp, tempting with its sweetness. Joel became the townâs greatest sinner, and you, his best friendâs daughter, are the tantalizing temptation he knows he should never indulge in. Your very existence marks the path to his ruin. He can't help but follow it. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. joelâs POV. a lot of introspection. mentions of alcohol. miscommunication. no outbreak. dbf!joel. age gap (25 and 56). petnames. religious imagery. car sex. oral sex (f!receiving). fingering. unprotected p in v. riding. missionary. doggy style. orgasm denial. crying. hair pulling. thumb/finger sucking. cum shot. creampie. reader sits on joelâs lap and has hair. moodboard for aesthetic purposes only. A/N: the fact this idea has been sitting on my drafts for over a year is just crazy. i finally found the time to put into words, and i know iâm a little late to the whole dbf!joel trope, but iâm a real sucker for it... hope you like this one! <3
No one couldâve ever said Joel was a great best friend.
For one, he was terrible at remembering important dates. His mind just didnât catch hold of details like thatânever had, really. He wasnât the sentimental type, either. At best, heâd manage a pat on the back or a firm handshake, maybe even a call on Christmas if he remembered. Emotional displays werenât in his nature, far too used to keeping things at armâs length.
Luckily for him, Stephen never seemed to care much about these things. Theyâd been friends for over forty yearsâwhich is, well, a hell of a long time, especially considering each had gone off to carve out his own life. Theyâd trudged through both primary and secondary school side by side, and Joel felt Stephenâs absence like a hollow ache the day his friend left for university in another state.
Technology eventually offered them more ways to connect, but it didnât make keeping up any simpler. The years had tested them, and somehow, theyâd held on to the quiet strength of their friendshipâa bond theyâd forged across decades and distance, held steady like the roots of an old tree.
Stephen was the laid-back type, always down for anything as long as a cold beer was part of the deal. It was rare for him to lose his temper, having a way of letting nuisances slide. Joel could bend every rule, yet Stephenâs patience never wavered. He was unflappable, hardly bothered by Joelâs mood swings, which was what made them a match made in heaven. Nothing could throw him off.
Though Joel doubts Stephen would stay so calm if he knew what heâd done to his daughter. As mentioned, Joelâs not exactly what youâd call a good friendâparticularly considering heâs slept with his best friendâs daughter. Just once, to be fair. One ephemeral, impulsive encounter. Right here, in this very house, exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago.
His gaze drifts across the room, settling on you at a smaller table a few meters away, surrounded by your younger cousins, ages five to fifteen. He watches as you scroll absent-mindedly on your phone, your brow furrowed in concentration, only tearing your eyes away from the screen when one of the kids hurls a handful of salty peanuts at you.
You press your palms flat against the tablecloth, eyes narrowing as you scowl playfully at the child, a mischievous glint in your expression. âYouâve got ten seconds to run,â you utter in a tone meant to sound ominous, tickling his sides until he erupts in laughter, his giggles filling the dining room with raw joy.
Joelâs been here for over two hours, but he canât recall a single detail about the nightâs events. All he knows is youâheâs studied your every movement, following the shape of your silhouette through the crowd. Heâs accepted a few drinks, engaged in shallow conversation with your relatives, trying his best to play the part of a man with nothing to hide. But despite his efforts, despite every attempt to appear unaffected, he feels a slow burn kindling in the pit of his stomach, an ache that curls through him in a deliciously destructive way.
Itâs when you look up, locking eyes with him, that he nearly mutilates the chicken breast on his plate, the knife skittering over porcelain with a screech. He quickly mutters an apology, excusing his clumsiness and blaming it on one too many drinks. Meanwhile, you donât quit glaring at him, a hint of a challenge dancing in your stare.
This shouldnât feel the way it does, this hazardous, risky game youâre playing. At one time, he mightâve thought this was something only seen in movies, something imagined and unreal. But here you are, and here he is, and the indisputable hunger in your eyes is as real as anything heâs ever known.
Suddenly, his memories drift back to a year ago, to your grandmotherâs 84th birthdayâthe night it all began.
Stephen had left Austin when he was eighteen to pursue a college degree. Thatâs how heâd ended up in New York, and from that point on, he never came back. Itâd been amazing to see him as an equal when they were teenagers, but as they grew older, the only things they shared were the white hairs scattered all over their beards and the memories of much better days.
Whenever they got in touchâwhich didnât happen oftenâyour dad would talk about you. You were just a name without a face, an empty canvas. Close to graduating, with only a few subjects and finals left. Psychology was your majorâwerenât you smart? Joel remembers typing back with a string of exclamation marks to show his contentment. His best friendâs daughter was a success; how could he not be happy?
One random day, Joelâs phone buzzed late in the afternoon, flashing with Stephenâs name. It was rare for them to talk outside the usual birthdays and holidays, so seeing his name on the screen sent a small jolt through him. A dozen scenarios raced through his mind as he picked up, each one edging between concern and curiosity.
Just like that, Stephen dropped the news without any preamble. âIâm moving back to Austin,â His voice came in clear, and there was something unusual about it, brisk but almost nostalgic. Joel gripped the phone a little tighter, processing the words. âIn fact, Iâm filling up the gas tank as we speak. Thereâs someone at home who wants to see you.â
That someone had been your grandmother. With a twinkle in her eye, sheâd insisted on inviting Joel to her 84th birthday. âItâs the perfect chance for you two to reconnect,â sheâd declared, her tone laced with warmth and hope. She adored Joel, practically worshipping the ground he walked on, often reminiscing about the vibrant young man he had once been.
Who could deny anything to an elderly person, especially one as cherished as her? He was strong, physically imposing, but not strong enough to resist her wishes.
The reunion was going as well as it could, given the circumstances. After all, it was a strange kind of delight, seeing his best friend for the first time in decades. Joel thought theyâd do what friends doâsit back, drink, smoke, and trade stories about the good old days.
Then you walked into the room, absolutely gorgeous and with a smile that was all teeth, and you reached out to shake Joelâs hand as you introduced yourself. The contrast hit him instantlyâyour skin was satin-like against his, smooth where his was rough and calloused from years of handling concrete and steel. A subtle heat bloomed where your fingers touched, the chill of the rings on your hand sending a shiver through him, as if his senses had sharpened in that brief instant.
You pulled away, taking a step back, your eyes flicking between him and your dad. Joelâs arm fell back to his side, his hand forming a tight fist, the bite of his nails embedded into his palm to keep him grounded. But he couldnât stop himself from scrutinizing youâevery detail of your face, the curve of your smile, the effortless way you carried yourself. Your beauty was at fault, not him. You were completely out of reach, yet close enough to marvel at. He was no more than a man, bound to notice the charm of a pretty girl like you.
That you happened to be the daughter of his best friendâthat was just a cruel stroke of fate.
âOh, sweetie. Iâm glad you got to meet Joel at last!â Stephenâs voice cut through his thoughts, an arm draping across Joelâs shoulders, pulling him into an affectionate embrace. âHeâs that friend from school Iâve been telling you about.â
Stephen looked so at ease, so utterly pleased, that Joel could only swallow back the lump in his throat. What kind of sick joke was this? What could he have possibly done to deserve this twist of the knife?
With a soft laugh, you folded your hands behind your back, tilting your head to the right. âMy father wouldnât shut up about you,â you said, light and melodic, drawing him in like a lure. Joel found himself adrift in the sweet cadence of your voice, entranced by the delicate chain glinting at your throat, resting just above the neckline of your shirt, the v-cut hinting at a world of temptation.
He blinked owlishly, fighting the images clawing behind his eyelids. âWell, heâs a good man, your father,â Joel managed, his smile strained. Not because it wasnât true, but because there was a blaring alarm in his head, warning him to get a fucking grip. He knew himself well enough to read the signs, the underlying meaning beneath these nerves, the quickened pulse, the quiet, undeniable urge to reach out and feel you.
He was gone already. He fancied you, and his mind raced with thoughts he knew he had no right to entertain. He imagined what youâd taste like, the way you might sound if he were between your legs, encouraging you to gasp his name. Yet, he was aware that these fantasies were as treacherous as they were forbidden, even more with you standing right in front of him. And your father, just inches away.
From the kitchen, someone called out to Stephen, and with a weary sigh, he unhooked himself from Joelâs shoulder. âComing!â he shouted back, already angling himself toward the door. He glanced back at the two of you, half-smiling while rubbing his temples. âI forgot how exhausting it is to host a family birthday party. Iâll be right back. You two go ahead and chat without me.â
Fuck, no, Joel thought to himself. Donât leave me here. Where the hell are you going?
Joel resorted to remaining silent, choosing instead to take a long sip of his beer to avoid the occasion of sin. He refused to look in your direction, fixing his gaze on anything that didnât involve your bare legsâthe same legs heâd just been eyeing in those damn denim shorts, which exquisitely hugged your thighs. But, then again, he shouldnât even be noticing that.
As he peered down at the carpet, he couldnât ignore the movement of your shoes as you stepped closer. He observed your fingers playing idly with the frayed edges of your shorts, your body inching nearer, and he braced himself in anticipation of whatever you might say next. When his eyes landed on yours, he was met with an aura of expectancy, a cocky smirk pulling at your lips.
âItâs a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh, Mr. Miller,â you murmured, watching his Adamâs apple bob as he swallowed with effort. Letting your hand linger beside your face, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, glancing at him through your lashes. âIâve heard so much about you.â
Joel felt the flush rise to his cheeks, and there was no mistaking itâyou were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to push him off balance, to see how far heâd bend before snapping? Was this just a game for you, a bit of mischief to spice up a family gathering? The idea irritated him, but he couldnât entirely ignore the thrill woven into the discomfort. A quarter of his mind itched to play along, but the rest of him screamed to find the nearest exit.
âYâcan just call me Joel. No needa be so formal,â he mumbled, lifting the beer bottle to his lips once again, the bitterness spreading across his tongue.
âBut I like Mr. Miller better.â
His mind conjured all those images of fire and damnation, of being dragged to some dark, smoldering pit. Rotting in hell, he could already see himself within the flames. Tugging at the collar of his flannel, now too tight and hot, he gave a rough, clearing cough. âMâgonnaâgo find your dad.â
He was glad you didnât try to approach him in public again. For a few hours, he felt something close to tranquillityânot fully, though, as he could still hear echoes of your voice in the silences. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, heâd catch you orbiting near him, lurking in his peripheral vision, even though you sat at a different table.
Later in the night, he wandered upstairs in search of the bathroom, instead stumbling upon your fatherâs childhood bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and he took the liberty to enter it, a familiar scent filling the room. He ran his fingers over the walls, still papered with posters he recognized well. It was as if time had paused thereâeverything remained as it had the last time heâd been in this very room. The framed portraits, the worn bedspread, and Stephenâs desk, scattered with foreign bills under a layer of glass, each one a memento from the different countries he had visited.
It was only a matter of time before you found him, a light knock on the open door drawing his attention. Joel turned on his heels, catching sight of you, acknowledging your presence with a slight bow of his head. You ambled toward him, curiosity alight in your steps, twisting the chain of your necklace, a restless gesture that betrayed the energy simmering beneath your calm exterior.
He scratched the back of his head, offering a half-hearted smile. âThis isnât the bathroom, right?â he joked, attempting a casual tone. The joke was a weak one, admittedly, but you laughed anyway, a nonchalant sound that showed the gleam of your teeth.
âNo, I donât think it is,â you replied, sliding onto the edge of the desk with an effortless ease. âWhat brought you here?â
âBirthday parties can be a bit overwhelmin', dontcha think?â
âTotally.â
And then you went back to watching him, your eyes tracing his features with an almost stubborn intensity.
âYou gonna stop doin' that?â he asked, the words coming out sharper than he meant, though they didn't make you flinch.
âDoing what, exactly?â
âLookin' at me all doe-eyed.â His voice didnât waver, but he advanced in your direction. His knees nearly brushed against yours, the weathered denim grazing your bare skin, and only then did a flicker of uncertainty soften your confident stance. âWhatever it is youâre after, itâs not gonna happen. So quit tryinâ.â
You drew in a slow breath, pushing yourself to your feet. âYou sure about that?â Before he had the time to react, you were standing inches from him, your chest pressing against his, just close enough for him to feel the soft weight of your breasts. âShould I pretend, then, that I havenât noticed youâve been half-hard all night?â
Joel's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting almost painfully. His fists flexed by his sides, his entire body feeling heavier, muscles pulled taut by some invisible thread. "Watch your mouth.â
âOr what?â You hooked a finger inside his belt loop, tugging him that much closer. Your breath, fresh and minty, mingled with the faint scent of your perfume, and he inhaled both, heady on the mix. âYouâre gonna teach me a lesson?â
There was only so much patience a man like him could summon, and you were a thorn in his flesh, determined and unyielding. He leaned in, voice gruff as he uttered three words that made your brows knit together. âClose the door.â You stayed frozen, lips parting in surprise. âDid yâhear me? Mânot into exhibitionism. Close. The. Door.â
You did as he asked, obliging, stepping back to close the door before returning to your place. Without warning, he turned you around, pressing your palms flat against the cool glass of the desk, a sharp chill that made you yelp. His hand settled firmly on your back, guiding you down until your chest was flush against the surface as well. In one swift motion, your shorts were gone, followed by your soaked panties, a damp spot where your arousal had begun to seep through.
He slipped his fingers inside you first, his hand covering your mouth to stifle the needy whimpers escaping your lips. The roughness of his beard grazed your cheek as he hovered over you, his breath hot in your ear as he spoke. âBeinâ too fuckinâ loud, doll.â Matching the rhythm of the slow drag of his fingers, his hips pressed forward, grinding against the curve of your ass, each movement making his mouth go dry. âYâwant this cock that bad?â He nipped at your throat, and you, against his sweaty palm, mumbled what could have only been a muffled Yes. âThen I need yâto keep real quiet for me, alright?â
His jeans and boxers hung around his knees, his cock leaking and throbbing at the tip. Joel realized what true desperation felt like, dangerously close to busting his load at any given moment before even getting the chance to be fully inside you. On top of the desk, your body trembled, and you reached back, pulling your top higher up to bare more of yourself to him. He unclasped your bra with one hand, while his other guided him to your entrance, his lips pressing reverently against your spine as he pushed inside, savoring the heat of your walls wrapping around him for the first time. It certainly didnât feel like anything heâd ever experienced in his fifty-six years of life.
It had been short, and harsh, and fast. Borderline animalistic, what experts would label as a quick fuck. The moment he breached your entrance, you begged for more, fucking yourself back onto him until his thighs met your skin. You acted as if possessed by a greater entity, diabolic, though Joel didnât mind it. He relished it, welcomed it. But he couldnât let you take the reins. He asserted his dominance, snapping his hips forward with a force that drew moans from the depths of your lungs. He was the one in control, driving himself deeper and deeper within you. Suffice it to say you seemed to love it, if the sounds he elicited from you were anything to go by.
It was what you wanted, what you needed. One way or another, heâd caught onto what those lingering glances throughout the party had signified. Every glance youâd thrown his way had been leading to thisâa silent promise that whatever was happening had been destined to be the nightâs climax.
You bit down on his palm as you reached your peak, tightening around him, and perhaps it was the thrill of it all, the knowledge that heâd need far more time to become well acquainted with your body, that had him chasing after you. Holding back until you came had been a feat, pulling out seconds prior to his release, stroking his length once before painting your skin with his seed. A low, primal groan escaped him as he slid his length between your cheeks, prolonging his high, each heated pulse marking you in a way that felt undeniably his.
As he regained his composure, he watched you swirl your thumb along your lower back, collecting a trace of his release, and bringing it to your lips to have a taste of him. You softly laughed when he cursed under his breath, turning your face lazily to the side. âDamn minx yâare,â he rasped, closing the gap between your mouths, his claiming yours in an urgent kiss. Your mewls faded beneath the insistent press of his mouth as he sought to suppress the strange pull in his guts, reluctant to confront the unfamiliar sensations churning within him.
Things wrapped up quickly after that. You both returned to your places, resuming the roles youâd stepped out of briefly: Joel had been in the bathroom; you had been on the phone with a friend. When he reappeared downstairs minutes after you, no one thought twice about his slightly damp hair.
For the remainder of the party, the two of you exchanged no further words. The time for him to leave came, and he offered only a nod of his head across the packed living room. It was a farewell only Joel would give, a subtle acknowledgment that left you wondering about its meaning. There were no explanations, no parting words.
The next time he saw your father, the mere thought of seeing you again terrified him. If itâd happened once, then the temptation would still remain undiminished, strong enough to awaken the lust and the longing veiled in silence. But you werenât there anymoreâback in New York, focused on finishing your semester at college. The surprise must have been evident on Joelâs face, a bewilderment that prompted Stephen to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. âRemember I told you she hasnât graduated yet?â
âYeah, yeah. I remember now,â he said, wishing to convince both your father and himself.
You were out of the picture, no longer around. Yet, the two of you now shared a secret. You still do, to this day. Heâs no stranger to the notion that some things never seem to change. After all, heâs a creature of habitâsame breakfast every morning, same brand of bread heâs been buying for years. Like all his other preferences, heâs come to realize he likes his women a certain way. And though he hates to admit it, you fit the bill perfectly.
Betty, Stephenâs mother, was turning eighty-five tonight. A seat with Joelâs name was saved at the big table; they wanted him there, his best friend and his best friendâs mother. How nice it was to actually feel wanted. He liked that feeling. Still, heâd had to bite his tongue when your father mentioned youâd be there, too. You had graduated at long last, with your birthday having been just a couple of weeks ago.
âCanât believe sheâs twenty-five already,â Stephen muttered with a chuckle, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
Sitting beside him, Joel gripped the arm of his chair, sinking his nails into it. âMe neither, man.â
His choices had led him to this moment. The clinking of glasses rings in his ears, blending with laughter and the rich aroma of food that fills the air. None of it manages to distract him. He can't help but track you down, eyes scanning the room, relentless in their pursuit of yours. The need to see you goes beyond any shred of restraint he might have faked to have. Joel canât muster the decorum to feign indifferenceâGod, not when youâre near, when the pull toward you feels like gravity itself. Heâs keenly, almost painfully aware, that heâs not even pretending to be indifferent, his interest etched plainly in the way his gaze persists, refusing to pull away.
Itâs his first time seeing you in a year. A lot can change in that span of time. He canât help but be amazed, because you look just the same as you did back then. Only your hairâs a touch shorter. He wonders if itâs even noticeable, or if heâs just spent so long memorizing your features that heâs losing his sanity. He bets itâs the latter.
A light pressure on his shoulder makes Joel jump, breaking down his reverie. He turns quickly, eyes widening. "Betty," he exhales, patting his chest with a smile, eyebrows lifted. "Jeez. Yâscared me."
âYâalright, Joely? Yâlook a bit pale.â The older woman reaches up, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead with a gentle familiarity. Through her lens, heâs still young. âDoesnât seem like youâve got a fever, though.â
"Thatâs âcause Iâm not sick." Joel takes her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Howâs everythinâ goinâ so far? Got all these people together just tâcelebrate yaâ."
"Itâs a wonderful night, sweetheart. So happy yâfound the time tâbe here," she replies, pinching his cheek in that affectionate way that earns her a quiet laugh from him. Her eyes then catch sight of a familiar figure. "Oh, look who's here. If it isnât my beautiful granddaughter."
He stops smiling. In fact, he thinks he even stops breathing for a second as you intrude yourself into the scene, settling yourself beside your grandmother, flashing him a knowing grin. âI was getting kind of bored with the little ones.â
âYâknow Joel, right, dear?â
âYes.â A pause, a beat you draw out between breaths. âYes, I do.â
Betty leans his way, her warm hand still on him. âHave yâheard the latest news? This young lady just graduated.â
âStephen told me,â he answers, looking up at you with a reserved nod. âCongrats, kid.â
âThank you, Mr. Miller.â
Thereâs that damn name again. Were he alone with you, heâd laugh in your face, but he canât. Under the scrutiny of family and friends, he knows heâs cornered. Joelâs starting to believe you think youâre untouchable, that there are no consequences to your actions. You might look the same, maybe a little older, but that teasing, provocative spark in your eye hasnât changed a bit.
âAlways so polite, my child,â Betty says, cupping your cheek with a light pinch, a grandmotherly gesture perfected over the years which she seems to repeat often. âAny boyfriends back in New York?â
This would, without a doubt, be the perfect moment for him to excuse himself and stand upâa conversation heâd rather not be privy to. But with you positioned right in front of him, escape isnât an option. âStill single, grandma,â you respond unfazed, as if you know exactly what youâre doing. âNo one to worry about. Better like this, anyway.â
âBut whatâs the problem? There arenât any boys yâlike?â
He doesnât even know what makes him say itâsome impulse, some hidden tension surfacingâbut he jumps in, his voice carrying a slight, sardonic edge. âBoys are more foolish than ever these days, Betty. Surely yâwouldnât want her to settle for the first idiot who crosses her path.â
Betty clutches his arm, shaking her head in feigned shock. âOh, not at all! Itâs all about waitinâ for the right person. Thereâs no rush, for either of you. Youâre still on your own, Joely?â
Time to drink again. He drains the last drops of alcohol remaining in his glass, feeling your eyes on him, intense and searing, and then he clears his throat, swallowing down the words heâd rather say. âAffirmative.â
âWell,â she sighs contentedly, patting each of your hands as though binding you both with some invisible thread. âJust means yâtwo have to wait a bit longer, right? Time has its way.â She chuckles, eyes soft with memory, turning to you. âDarlinâ, this man here was quite the heartbreaker in his day. He and your dad would find all kinds of trouble with the ladies!â
âHow so?â You cross your arms, playfully tilting your chin up. âJoel Miller, the charmer of the town?â
âGuess Iâve been known tâmake a fool of myself,â he shoots back, silently cursing the moment he missed his chance to slip away. âStephen got more fans than I did, though.â
âI did what?â Joel feels an elbow nudging his back, and thereâs his friend, grinning in his usual easy way.
Joel's luck in life had been more bruised than blessed, a string of hardships that seemed amplified compared to what most people experienced. Being drawn in by youâin which category did that fall? Good luck or bad? He couldn't decide. Every glance and delicate smile you aimed his way stirred something reckless within him. Was it pure thrill, or a warning?
He laughs every time Stephen cracks a joke, but heâs barely listening, his mind half-tethered to the present. Itâs like heâs watching himself from afar, observing his reactions as if he were an outsider. He isnât stoned or drunk, just acutely mindful of your presence. He catches himself peeking up at you from where he sits, jaw tight, his brow creased. You meet his gaze with a slight squint, a polite look that hides something far more dangerous.
Boys are more foolish than ever these days. Heâs sure of that much. Theyâre young, untested. But what about him? Heâs no model of virtue, either. Heâs made his share of mistakes, left good women behindâwomen who were willing to love him in spite of his flaws. Theyâd seen through the layers he wore like armor, and yet, in the end, he couldnât hold on to any of them. He carried the ghosts of every past life, fragments of who heâd been and what heâd left behind, and he knew those shadows werenât for everyone.
A thought pierces through him, sharp and sobering: what would Sarah think? His lovely daughter, grown and settled into her own life, would likely be mortified to know her fatherâs infatuation with a twenty-something. The weight of that realization sinks into his chest, and that seems to be his last straw.
He canât possibly take it anymore. Rising from his chair, he mutters something to Stephen about needing fresh air and makes his way to the backyard door, exhaling deeply and gripping his car keys. The cool night air hits him, stepping outside, a temporary relief as he heads toward his truck.
Just as heâs about to open the door, he hears your voice. You call his name, your tone soft but distinct. He doesnât turn, only lets out a long, weary sigh. âWhat?â
âWhere are you going?â You stop a few steps behind him, watching the way his shoulders visibly tense. âAre you mad at me?â
âWhat?â He faces you, almost snapping his neck in his rush to look at you. âWhy would I beâIâm not mad at yaâ.â
âThen whatâs wrong? Why are you leaving so early?â
He scrubs a hand over his nape, fingers pressing into the tension gathered there. âWould yâlike me tâbreak it down for yaâ, how messed up this is?â His gaze drops to the ground, unable to meet yours. âIâm riskinâ the only real friendship Iâve had here for⊠for somethinâ that I canât even wrap my head âround. This isnât okay, no matter which way I look at it.â
In that moment, itâs as if reality pulls you under. The mask of subtle, practiced arrogance falls apart, scattering in fragments around you. He watches, waiting for you to gather them up, to hide behind that composed veneer again. But you donât move. You leave the pieces where they lie. Instead, you confront his gaze, unguarded, and ask, âDo you regret what happened between us?â
Another question. You seem to be full of them. They just keep coming, one after the other, as if you already had them prepared. I donât, he thinks to himself, but would it do you any good if you knew it? âDonâ start with those mental games.â
âThen come back inside.â
âI know myself well enough to know whatâs gonna happen if I do that, darlinâ.â
Neither of you breaks the silence thatâs settled between you, thick as the night air. You slip your hands into the pockets of your jacket, shoulders slightly hunched, head hanging. Once again, like all those times before, heâs struck by how young you are compared to him. The difference stretches between you like a chasm, bridged only by these stolen moments. The weight of his years presses down on him, the choices heâs madeâthe mistakes and the half-hearted attempts to mend them. Heâs got decades on you, three of them to be precise.
Joel never thought of himself as an ever-lasting free spirit, the kind of man who clings to youth or pretends to be something heâs not. Right now, with you here, he feels reckless, like a boy again. Stupid, impulsive, like the foolish young men he used to shake his head atâthe very ones heâd warned your grandmother about.
âYou left without even saying goodbye last time,â you mumble, low but clear, as you scuff the toe of your shoe against the grass. âAnd now youâre doing it again.â
He inhales sharply, clenching his keys, feeling the edges of the brass biting into his palm. For a moment, he thinks the sharpness will give him something to hold onto, but he knows the sting is nothing more than a weak anchor. âYouâre a smart girl. Donâ need me to spell this out.â
âI know exactly what you mean, trust me. I get it.â
âThen why do you keep pushing?â His pent-up exasperation slips through despite himself, and he can see the hurt flicker across your face, the way your forehead barely puckers as his words hit harder than intended.
Even as you look away, a trace of that hurt fading, you stand firm. You shake your head after a beat, seemingly trying to brush off your doubts and confusion. Joel canât decipher if youâre feigning innocenceâif you are, he thinks, you could be one hell of an actress. âI donât know. I guess I want to see how far this can go.â
You take a small step forward, testing the waters. Your feet move cautiously, not aiming to scare him off. Each step draws you nearer until thereâs only a whisper of space between you, close enough for him to catch your scent, and he has to force himself to peer down to meet your eyes. They hold a quiet intensity: pleading, wide and earnest, already trained on him. Gleaming like two lone stars cutting through a moonless, empty sky.
It baffles him, the question forming unbidden in his mind. He goes even further, canât help but wonder: why him? What is it that you see in him? What makes you keep coming back for more? Youâve already had a taste, a story you could tuck away, a secret to be shared with your friends someday around a campfire. So why, he would like to know, are you still here, seeking something from a man like him?
âI like you,â you blurt out, fingers drifting to skim over the worn fabric of his flannel, almost hesitantly. That tentative gesture sparks something raw in him, a low rumble of desire that feels like itâs been lying dormant for too long. Heat pulses through him, hot blood racing through his veins, awakening every nerve, each beat of his heart more insistent than the last one. âI think you like me, too.â
âYouâre insufferable,â he bites out through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it nearly hurts. He closes his eyes, half hoping youâll disappear, that heâll find some reason, any reason, to call this off. Though when he opens them, youâre still there, waiting, unshaken. âI wish I knew how to stop this. How to walk away.â
âThatâs not what you want.â
âWe donâ always get what we want, kid. Youâll figure that out soon enough.â He means it as a warning, but even he hears the way his voice falters, his defenses crumbling in the face of your unflinching state.
You let out a slow sigh, your arms falling to your sides, eyes roaming over his features as if youâre memorizing every line. Your focus dips to his mouth. âMaybe,â you murmur, and he feels the warmth of your breath against his skin. âBut some things are worth fighting for. And sometimes, those who donât give upïżœïżœ get the best in the end.â
With a gentleness that stuns him, you lean in, bringing your lips to his in a featherlight kiss. You pull away, and he helplessly notices the way your lips part, how your breath hitches, and for a split second, the guilt becomes palpable, the significance of wanting a woman he knows he shouldnât. You stand there, chest rising and falling, skin tingling, a faint trail of goosebumps visible where your neckline meets your chest.
Apart from the glint in your eyes, he catches the persistent, quiet ache of want. He isnât sure if itâs just physical attraction, if it runs deeper, or if thatâs all it is for him, either. He doesnât need to know. The simplicity of it all is a short-lived relief. Itâs an easy escape, though, this bare minimum of understandingâyou want him, he wants you. Let it be enough for one more moment, for tonight, just another memory heâll have to lock away. Yet heâs aware, deep down, of his own pattern: promises broken just as easily as theyâre made. Heâs only fooling himself. The part of him that knows this isnât something heâll let go of so easily sits there, silently taunting him, daring him to make another compromise he wonât keep.
From where you remain frozen, heâs certain you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs every possible outcome. âItâs gonna happen, isnât it?â Your voice is barely above a whisper, and before you can react, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and turning you toward the car door. The cool metal pressing against your back startles a gasp out of you, but the suddenness only heightens everythingâthe heat of his body, the toughness of his hold.
He doesnât waste time with words, having always been a man of action. His hand cradles your face, inspecting your features to later crush his mouth against yours. Your tongue finds his without hesitation, seeking him out, hungry and unrestrained. He savors your eagerness, the way your hands roam over him, clutching at his shirt, tugging him closer by the belt until your lower halves are pressed tightly. The taste of beer and mint clings to your lips, and a husky groan rumbles from him as your fingers find their place in the longer strands at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling him impossibly closer.
He could lose himself in this, the simple, electric thrill of kissing you, how you fit so perfectly against him. Hours could slip by, and he wouldnât mind, but then reality pulls him back; itâs too exposed here, right outside his truck where anyone could stumble upon you. âGet in the car,â he rasps, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, fumbling to unlock the door. It takes him three tries, and he chuckles, feeling the warmth of your laughter beside him as you tease him.
Once inside, his mouth finds yours again, this time more urgently, his hand pressing against your back, tracing the line of your spine through the clothes. âTell me yâwant this,â he breathes, his kisses trailing down your throat, latching onto the tender skin there. âCâmon, baby. Tell me yâwant it. Tell me yâwant me.â
A soft, breathy sound escapes you as his mouth fixates on that sensitive spot just below your ear. You tilt your hips instinctively, craving contact in search of relief, and he shifts you onto his lap, guiding your thighs to settle over his. Desperately working to undo the buttons of his shirt, yearning to uncover him, you pant against his cheek. âJ-Jesus Christ, I need you. Please, touch me. Anything will do. Justââ
Heâs silently grateful for your choice of a dress tonight. It makes things easier for him, and he gets right to it, bunching the fabric around your waist, hands roaming over the soft skin of your hips before moving his fingers lower, tracing teasing lines over your clothed center. He canât fully make out the murmured words you breathe into his ear, but your voice drives him like a lighthouse guides a sinking ship, and he adjusts his movements, pressing with more intention. The only sounds filling the car are his ragged breaths and your gasping moans, and he holds you close to his chest, cooing softly as you start to rock into his hand, asking for more.
His fingers find their rhythm, circling your clit in deliberate flicks. Joel watches as you unravel, trembling in his arms, a hint of drool spreading over his shoulder from your parted lips on his skin. His grip tightens as he tugs your underwear down your legs, grinning when you kick them impatiently to the floor of the car. Now, as he strokes his digits up and down your folds, you turn to putty on his lap. In another world, heâd have you laid out in his bed, enjoying each inch of your body. But here, in the cramped, dim backseat, he keeps the lights off. He knows itâs reckless, yet that barely slows him down. His cock throbs at the very risk of getting caught, at the edge heâs walking just to have you like this.
âGoddamn, youâre soaked, arenât yaâ?â He doesnât expect you to answer, at least not in any coherent way. He sinks his middle finger into your bare heat, searching your face in the dark, contemplating the fluttering of your lashes. His hand weaves into your hair, a firm tug guiding your gaze to his. Your head tips back, a moan spilling from your lips at the new sensation, rolling your hips into his palm with earnestness. âItâs gonna be a tight fit, huh? If this is how youâre grippinâ my fingers, I canât imagine what that cuntâs gonna feel like wrapped âround me.â
Studies suggest that in those final, fleeting moments of life, memories flood the human mindâa last journey through a personâs years before crossing over. If he were to die after tonight, he knows your face would be there, etched into his last breath. He can almost picture it: struggling for air, teetering on the edge, with that reddish, towering figure of mortality looming over him. But even then, heâd find solace in the thought of you, thrown into oblivion. Youâd grant him a last-minute reprieve, easing the ache. Youâd be the one whoâd hold back the shadows. This constitutes the apex of his life, and he knows he should be worried, yet intellectual dominance doesnât stand much of a chance when confronting the heart of a man. Not when that heart, so long starved of its pulse, has finally found someone worth remembering.
He makes space for himself, thrusting his long fingers into you until heâs got your slick coating his palm. One hand settles firmly at the small of your back, guiding your movements, while he feels his collected composure faltering. You mouth at the rough stubble along his jawline when you start to get close, breathless whimpers clouding his thoughts. âJoel,â you call out to him, as if that alone would make wonders. âOh, fuck. Please, I waited a whole year. I need to come.â
A whole year. You were his once a year, and he was yours, a bittersweet ritual bound by time. He never wouldâve thought this party could bring him such pleasure, though he canât pretend heâs against it. Last time, he hadnât taken the chance to pull you under and make you fall apart as many times as heâd wanted. Heâs intent on making up for that missed opportunity, determined to make you enjoy every moment.
He withdraws his fingers abruptly, and a sharp laugh nearly escapes him at your reaction. You reach instinctively, grabbing for his hand, trying to guide him back to where he belongs between your legs. But heâs already moving, maneuvering you down until youâre lying on your back, fully under his command. He lowers himself, replacing his fingers with the warm insistence of his mouth. The sound that escapes your lips as his mouth presses against your center is nothing short of a screamâa wild cry that fills the space around you. Heâs grateful he parked far from the other guests, because that sound would turn more than a few heads.
Joel laps at your arousal as if it's the fountain of youth, the very essence of everything pure and precious in the world. He presses down on your thighs until they rest on either side of him, unclamping your legs from around his head. The suppleness of your skin feels divine under his fingertips, and he brushes his thumbs over your trembling form, coaxing you into calmness, to let him have his way with you at his own pace. It's an absurd paradoxâaiming to soothe you while his mouth continues its fervent worship, tracing intricate patterns against your most sensitive flesh. His beard, streaked with gray and freshly trimmed, glistens with your slick, and Joel smolders with all-consuming passion.
When his friends had told him to go out more, maybe find someone to date, he's certain they didn't mean this. The smart choice (scratch that: the correct one) would have been to pursue a woman his own age. But fuck itâhe's spent a lifetime doing what's right. Every road he might've taken would've led him here, to this moment, with you. Part of him believes he must still have something left, some spark of appeal. To have a pretty little thing like you, so eager, so willing, offering yourself to him? He has to have something. His knees ache from where he kneels on the unforgiving surface, but the burn is inconsequential, and heâll endure anything to be what you need.
Joel trails his hand up your body, over the curve of your breast, before gently groping it, his palm covering yours in a shared grip. He runs the tip of his tongue along your folds, his saliva mingling with your wetness, aquiline nose grazing your sensitive bud. âYouâre tellinâ me youâre this tight âcause youâve been savinâ yourself for me? You do know what tâsay tâmake a man happy.â He spreads you open slowly, his gaze lingering on the way your cunt glistens, a sense of satisfaction rippling through him. You remain silent, your breath shallow. âStill with me, sugar?â
âItâs just thatâIâm so close.â You bite back a moan, nails digging into the soft leather of the seat. Joel hums in response, his lips closing around your clit. Agitation flickers across your face as you try to grind your hips against his mouth. âFuck, fuck, fuckââ
The pressure is gone as he notices your thighs quivering again, his movements halting immediately.
âNo, Joel. Pleaseââ
âYouâll come when I tell yaâ.â
Heâs having the time of his life. Damn right he is.
He suddenly realizes he's still dressed from head to toes, the heat building in his body becoming too much to ignore. With a frustrated grunt, he undoes his belt, yanking the metal zipper down, longing to rid himself of the constricting denim. A strangled noise escapes him as you suck on his neck, fisting his base, giving him a few purposeful tugs.
âNow, youâre gonna ride me,â he murmurs, making a pause to shrug his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor of the car, âand youâre gonna like it. Donâ want you tâhold back this time, understood?â
His back ends up against one of the fogged-up windows. The air is thick with the apparent scent of sexâa phrase heâd only ever heard in movies, but now, itâs undeniably real. Joel holds his cock, aligning the tip with your entrance as his lips crash against yours in a hungry kiss. A deep groan escapes him, vibrating over your mouth, nipping at your lower lip. The sensation intensifies when your wet interior welcomes him, velvet walls molding to his size. Your brows scrunch together at the stretch, a choked whimper catching in your throat. As your hips sink fully, your ass flush against his thighs, your body clenches around him, that abrupt tightness drawing a stuttering gasp from him.
âFor Godâs sake,â he exhales, the words rough as his forehead bumps into yours. His hand splays over your ribcage, fingers curling slightly. âSweetheart, youâreâkillinâ me here.â
âI can feel you everywhere,â you huff, your arms looping around his neck to pull him closer, holding your breath. He takes the moment to capture your nipple between his swollen lips, leaving a shiny trail of spit in his wake. You lift yourself, the motion teasing, before sinking back down onto his lap, taking him in fully. âCan feel you in my stomach.â
When you begin to move, Joel loses track of everything else. Time seems to stretch, bending and reshaping itself each time his tip finds some hidden place inside you. Heâs fifty-six years old, yet in this moment, his soul feels infinite. Invincible. He brings his hand to your lips, thumb grazing over them before slipping inside. Your warm tongue envelopes it, and when you start to suck dutifully, muffling your moans, his body jerks in response. His eyes drift to your glistening chest, where a sheen of sweat makes your skin glow in the dim light. Youâre the most captivating woman heâs ever seen, and he knows heâll never look at anyone the same again. He canât tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way your body merges with his, the way you undulate your hips on top of him.
You move back and forth, and he drives into you, filling you to the brim with every calculated thrust. He thrusts upward, stealing the air from your lungs, the sharp motion making you sputter as your body struggles to keep up with his.
âThatâs it.â His voice is a husky growl as he wraps his arms tightly around your back, your chests sticking together with sweat. His pace quickens, the rhythm becoming more insistent. âTakinâ it like a good girl. You feel exquisite, baby. Makinâ me lose my fuckinâ mind.â
âSo big inside me,â you pant, your own pace faltering as you surrender to Joelâs unforgiving tempo. His hooded eyes flicker to yours, catching the way your pupils have swallowed up your irises, dark and blown wide with desire. A shiver runs through him as your fingers dig into his shoulders, your grip leaving faint crescents in his skin. âMissed your cock so much, Mr. Miller.â
Fuck, not that shit. If itâs possible, he grows impossibly harder. He pounds into you with renewed intensity this time, his singular goal to leave you speechless, boneless, completely undone. He wants you limp and shuddering, with nothing left to give. âEnough of that.â His hands find their place on the soft globes of your ass, molding and squeezing until the pressure has you mewling, the sweet sound shooting straight through him. His lips ghost over the shell of your ear. âResponsive everywhere, honey. Have any idea how much fun Iâm gonna have with yaâ?â
Who wouldâve believed him back then? It proves this isnât some once-in-a-lifetime fluke. It happened before, and now itâs happening again. He might as well surrender to itâaccept his fate and move through the motions like a man resigned to whatâs already written.
Thereâs a moment when your moans sharpen, turning high-pitched and dazed, and the way you constrict him sends his eyes rolling to the back of his skull, a guttural noise tearing from his chest. His movements still, clutching your waist to pin you in place, denying you the chance to move, to bounce on him.
Then you break. A sob wracks your body, tears spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks. They gather, fusing together as they slide along your throat and pool in the hollow of your jaw before disappearing lower. âAsshole,â you hiss, the word fragile as you push your face into the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in his embrace.
âSorry? Couldnât catch that.â He makes sure to keep you securely tucked under his chin, tilting his lower half upward. âIf you want me tâstop, just say the world and I will.â
Heâs messing with you, plain and simple. He doesnât actually expect you to take his words at face value. But you do, grinding down harder, impaling yourself further on the length of his cock, and your arousal trickles down, slicking the coarse hair of his thighs. âPlease.â
âPlease what?â
âPlease fuck me.â Slotting your mouth over his, you attempt to move, chasing any sort of friction against your clit. Sadly, pleasure doesnât come on its ownâitâs Joel who can make you feel good, and heâs not obliging. His hand seizes your hair in a rough grasp, tugging sharply. Eyes fluttering shut, you hunch forward, submitting to the sharp edge of his control.
âWhat an impatient little thing yâare.â Joel grabs your thighs and turns you over, your back pressed against the leather seat. The brusque shift pulls him out of you, the cool air a cruel tease before he taps his head against your swollen folds, then fills you again in one powerful thrust, kissing your cervix in the process. A deep moan rips from your lungs, deep and guttural, as your legs tremble uncontrollably on either side of him. Your ankles dig into his back, fervent to keep him close. His balls rest heavy against your skin, full and aching for release. âGonna give yaâ what yâwant, okay? Youâve been on your best behavior,â he mumbles with his lips stuck to your forehead. âThatâs a good girl. Think she deserves to come after all.â
Only then does he find his rhythm again, ramming into your drooling hole. For the third time tonight, heâs captivated by how you teeter on the edge of overwhelming pleasure. He has you eating out of his hand, taking all that he offers, and you do so willingly. He knows he could ask you for anything, and in exchange for an orgasm coaxed by him, you'd comply without thinking twice. In many ways, heâs not so different. He gathers some of your saliva, using it to moisten his fingers before slipping them between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he continues to hit your bundle of nerves. Where his stamina comes from, he has no clue, though heâs determined to keep pushing.
Your face becomes a living poem, each cry of yours adding to its verse. Your head nearly reaches the door, but he cradles it with his arm, ensuring you donât hurt yourself. âClose,â you whine, struggling to keep your eyes from falling shut. âJoel, please. Let meââ
âGive it to me, darlinâ.â Another thrust, another moan. âDrench me, câmon. Thatâs what yâwant, isnât it? To come all over this cock?â
The way heâs worked you up has its rewards, leading to a release that feels like an eruption. You bite down on his shoulder, your cries growing louder, chanting his name without pause. It loses all meaning after being chanted so many times, but the way you say it still has an undeniable weight. He doesnât mind it one bit, not when heâs finishing right after you plead him to fill you. His jaw hangs open as ropes of his seed spill inside you, and he sags against your frame, giving short thrusts to push his cum deeper into your warmth, your pussy milking him dry.
âOh, GodâŠâ he groans, fumbling with one of your breasts, holding onto something for dear life. âJesus Christ.â
âDonât pull out yet,â you say, grinning when you feel him twitch. âStay a little longer.â
Too personal. Too intimateâdangerous in his books. Normally, he'd tuck himself back into his briefs, drive the woman heâs slept with home, and that would be the end of it. No happy endings in his story. So heâs surprised when he supports his weight on his forearms, claiming your lips in a voracious encounter of tongues and teeth. He caresses your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, and you sigh contentedly.
The two of you lapse into a heavy silence after that. He clears his throat, and says: âI shouldâve asked you for your number that one time.â In the heat of the act, heâs being too honest. Regret will come knocking on his door once his excitement fades. His eyes bore into yours, dubious. âMâsorry for that.â
âWell, you could ask me for it now,â you admit from beneath him, and Joel pulls away for a moment, trying to gauge if youâre serious. He doesnât think youâre joking. âTo make up for lost time.â
This must be the onset of something else. He can't quite put it into words, but he feels it in his chest, in every place where your skin merges with his. He's no fortune teller, and there's no way for him to know where this path will take him, whether it leads to ruin or salvation. Though in this moment, he doesn't careânot now, at least.
At last, Joel blindly reaches for the pocket of his jeans with one arm. âHow long are you stayinâ in Austin?â
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
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