#I FUCKING LOVE INCLEMENT WEATHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[syn4k]

BIG THUNDER OUTSIDE FUCK YEAH WOOOOOOOOOOOO

[gutsby]

State of Play

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: You and Joel can’t keep things quiet.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Katoptronophilia (!) Loud and obnoxious I-Love-You-and-I-Missed-You Sex. C*m eating. Age gap. One (1) Almost-BJ. I think that’s it.

Note: For those unfamiliar with That Folgers Commercial

Word count: 8.2k

Airplane food tasted like shit.

Some prick in a business suit spilled his coffee all over you, your luggage had nearly been lost in transit between connecting flights, and someone’s unsupervised child had tried to bite your ankle while waiting at the gate.

The weather was bad, and all of the flight crew and your boarding group were pissed—your second trip was delayed by two hours due to inclement conditions. Snow had pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows without reprieve for what felt like years, and finally, the folks in air traffic control seemed to have just thrown up their hands and said, ‘Fuck it, let them go.’ You boarded the plane freezing your ass off and stained all down the front of your t-shirt in espresso. Your Achilles tendon ached.

And still, this felt like the greatest day of your life.

You were going home. And not just home but to Joel, who was picking you up from the airport that day. You hadn’t had any exams at the end of the week, so you’d decided to come home a half-day early and surprise him. With all of the delays, you wouldn’t be in until early that morning, but Joel was still happy to pick you up. You wouldn’t tell your dad you were back until the following evening, and in the meantime, you’d savor every second you had with Joel until you had to leave again. You didn’t want to be apart from him, but at least the separation this time around was sweeter: he was your boyfriend.

Just thinking those words made you smile.

Even sat next to a screaming baby the whole four-hour plane ride from Baltimore to Austin, you were happy.

Damn near cheerful skipping off the aircraft five hours after your original ETA, and heading to the baggage claim in a sea of pushy, disgruntled passengers.

You took the stairs instead of the escalator. You didn’t mind the extra effort with your far-too-heavy carry-on; you just wanted to take the fastest route to get to the place you’d be meeting Joel. Your sneakers sounded their light, quick thuds down the marble steps as you went, and you slung the strap of your duffel bag higher up your shoulder to get a better hold while you jogged.

You looked around, eager as ever.

Was that a pit of anxiety you felt?

Around Joel, that was never really a thing—but anticipating his presence after weeks spent apart was a whole different beast. Now your pulse pounded in your ears; your throat constricted a little bit. Where was he?

From: Joel

Just parked

Headed in now

That had been twenty minutes ago.

I’ll be over by the stairs

Except he wasn’t there.

You were at the foot of the stairs, peering anxiously around as you were jostled further out by the moving crowd, but the longer you looked, the more certain you became that Joel wasn’t there. In fact, there was no one that looked even remotely like him. It was mostly families and young people that appeared to be around your age—evidently, all colleges started break at the same time—that were standing around. You stood on your tip-toes to get a peek overtop these people, and you still couldn’t spot one single silver-flecked head that looked like his.

You pulled out your phone to text him.

From: You

Sooooo did someone kidnap you or—

You didn’t get to finish that message.

Before you could hit ‘send,’ you felt two arms wrap around you from behind. You dropped your bag.

The same grin crept onto your face—you couldn’t help it.

“Excuse me, I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend…”

You pretended to tense with discomfort at the feel of someone’s body draped over your own, and then there were lips grazing your hair, stubble teasing your cheek.

“Oh, yeah? Then where is he?”

Joel turned you to face him.

Well, shit, there he is.

Both of you were beaming. Joel looked handsome but sleepy—and who could blame him at 5:21 AM, when he’d likely been at work since six the day before? You were the one to open your arms then. You lunged just in time for him to accept your embrace, and you didn’t miss the way he stumbled a bit. He also turned his face so your lips landed on his cheek, not his mouth. He blinked rapidly.

Perhaps you’d come on a little strong.

Easy now, he’s probably tired as shit.

“Sorry. Just missed you,” you mumbled into Joel’s neck.

He squeezed you tighter. He shook you back and forth.

His lips pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head.

‘Don’t be sorry. I missed you more’ was all he said.

And before you knew it, you were headed home again. Rather than retreating to the house you’d grown up in, though, you went over to Joel’s cozy, ranch-style place. From all the time you’d spent there lately, and even in the years before, you knew it well. Joel kept it clean. Simple.

Cold as shit.

“52 degrees?! Have you lost your fucking mind, Miller?”

You’d pulled your parka fast about yourself as soon as you stepped in. You exhaled and saw it hang mid-air.

“It ain’t that bad. We got blankets,” Joel huffed.

He hadn’t talked much on the ride home from the airport. You didn’t blame him. You could see in his eyes and in the way he’d fixed his stare on the road all the way home that the man was exhausted. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. You decided not to push him on it.

But sleeping in an igloo was where you drew the line.

You spun on your heel to face him, brows pinched.

“My nipples could cut diamonds right now.”

And you peeled back your jacket to show him, where you only wore your tight, coffee-stained tee underneath. Sure enough, two small, hardened peaks poked out through the fabric to greet Joel in the chill of his living room.

To your surprise, Joel swallowed and looked away.

He left the room shortly after that—ostensibly, to adjust the thermostat. But it was the expression he wore as he did that gave you pause. The look on his face was hard.

Guilty.

What the hell had happened in the thirty minutes since you’d gotten here to make him take on that expression?

Was it the way you smelled after six or seven hours of combined air travel, not including all the excruciating minutes spent languishing in the Boston and Baltimore airports? That stupid story you’d told him about the flight attendant whose breath smelled of rotten pimento cheese? Or was it because you’d jumped him too fast—opted for a kiss on the mouth instead of simply hugging him and attempting to curb your enthusiasm a little bit?

Your mind whirred a thousand miles a minute with this thinking—overthinking, really. You couldn’t help doing it.

In spite of the near-dizzying excitement you’d felt coming home, it was easy to slip back into old habits. Worry, uncertainty, fear of feeling more for a person than they did for you and getting too invested, it was all there. It was astounding how quickly the dread crept in. Shit.

“Shit,” you repeated aloud, kicking off your shoes.

You were standing in Joel’s room, preparing for bed. The heat had evidently kicked on, but the space was still freezing, so you peeled your clothes slowly. You set them aside, one-by-one, and folded them atop Joel’s dresser while your stomach churned. Your toes curled in your socks, and for a moment, you contemplated whether or not to wear your pyjamas to bed. Or Joel’s. Or naked.

Did he want to have sex tonight?

He’d looked so tired, and he hadn’t touched you once since setting you down from the hug at the airport, but—

“Hey.”

A folded, fuzzy blanket landed on the dresser next to you

It was pink. It had polka dots on it, not unlike the towel you had back at college and had seen Joel wrap himself in before you’d snuck him into your communal showers.

You smiled faintly at the memory.

You looked back up at Joel.

“I figured you’d get cold whenever you came over here, so I got this. Now you can bundle up. And wear these.”

Emphasizing the last word, Joel dropped a pair of matching slippers next to the blanket. They were new. He’d bought them for you, and had remembered enough to know you liked pink, frilly things. And not freezing your fucking ass off in the middle of winter. Your smile grew.

You thanked him, and were about to turn to give him a hug, when he was off again. This time, to the bathroom.

You decided you’d dress in your own pajamas tonight. You grabbed your new blanket and slippers and then padded over to Joel’s bed at the other end of the room.

How long you waited there was anyone’s guess.

Changing out of his clothes, brushing his teeth, washing his hands or simply running the tap until the water all but ran out seemed to take Joel decades. You stayed curled on your side in his bed, rubbing your now-comfortably warmed feet under the covers and occasionally checking the time. You even scrolled for a little bit to distract your mind and keep it from worrying. He’s probably just tired.

And when, finally, he shut the bathroom door behind him and retired to bed, you could see it: Joel was exhausted.

You wanted to leave him be. Let him get some rest and pick things up in the morning, same as you always did.

Then Joel snaked a big, warm, muscly arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest. Against your back, you could feel it: he had on one of his long sleeve, waffle-knit shirts. You wriggled a little and shuffled your legs, and you shortly discovered he was wearing his thickest pair of pyjama pants as well. Joel almost always slept naked, or in only his boxers, so this was odd. Then again, it was dead of winter, so you couldn’t really blame him.

He pressed an innocent kiss to your temple before murmuring, ‘Night, sweet pea,’ and you couldn’t ignore what you felt, either. What you were feeling, presently, through the thick, cotton fabric of Joel’s pants was impossible to ignore—he was rock-hard against you. Joel shuffled back some, but still, the bulge was prominent.

Okay, well…maybe we don’t have to sleep just yet.

You weren’t entirely sure why you did what you did. You were pretty tired yourself. All you knew was that intimacy made you feel close to Joel—helped your brain process feelings better than speaking, sometimes—and right then, you felt needy. Lonely. With just a few gruff words and a strange look from him before, you’d grown self-conscious again, and you weren’t sure what to do with that emotion. You figured Joel’s dick in you might help.

So you turned around and climbed right on him.

You straddled Joel’s hips, a little more confident in how you maneuvered it now, after doing this dozens of times before. You and Joel enjoyed sleepy sex, whether it was first thing in the morning or right before bed, and usually, neither one of you had to talk to initiate. You simply clambered over the other person and got to work. It was a simple form of stress relief—a way to rid your brain of unwanted thoughts and get you right to sleep after doing the deed—and it didn’t take much to get either one of you off. You sighed when you felt Joel’s cock graze you through your light, satin pyjamas. You didn’t move too quickly, but you did bear down on him.

Joel’s eyes flew open.

He grabbed your hips, and he grunted through his teeth.

“Sweetheart—” he started, strained.

It encouraged you to feel him stiffen from that first motion of your lower half, so you did it again. You leaned down to kiss his neck, in just the spot he always liked, close to the jaw, and you rubbed yourself gently against his erection. His grip tightened on your hips, and the initial surprise seemed shortly to morph into desire.

Like always, Joel would probably flip you and offer to fuck in missionary. That was how you both liked to start.

You dragged your lips down the column of his neck and were about to bare your teeth to leave a quick love bite, maybe nip at the skin once or twice before moving your mouth lower on him, when Joel’s grip really constricted.

His fingers seared your skin.

A groan rumbled in his chest.

“Baby, please…” he croaked. He swallowed hard.

Was he trying to beg? That wouldn’t be a first, but you hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. His tone was low. His voice was soft, and his fingertips were kneading hard

“I know you’re tired, so I’ll get on top,” you offered, quiet.

With barely more than a whisper and a brush of your hand against the bulge in his pants, you earned another throaty sound from Joel. He cursed under his breath.

“This…I need to…fuck.”

Words seemed to evade him, and that wasn’t surprising. When you were turned on, you also forgot how to talk.

Joel always teased you for it, so now you’d do the same.

Moving lower down his body, and pushing the covers back as you went, you kept your gaze locked on his. The house had heated considerably since you’d gotten back, and now you didn’t feel like you had to wrap up in fifteen layers just to stay tolerably warm. You flashed the man a sly little grin, told him he needed to use his words if he wanted you to put your lips to use where he wanted them, and proceeded to stray even further. Your bottom lip grazed past his navel, and your tongue darted out to lick down the strip of grey and black hairs running down his lower belly where the bottom of his shirt had ridden up a little bit. As soon as you did, Joel inhaled sharply.

“Baby,” he hissed.

He seized your hair in his fist. Surprisingly, it felt nice.

It made you want to take him in your mouth even more.

So, hooking your fingers under the waistband of his pants, you didn’t waste any time. You yanked at the fabric, fully prepared to suck Joel off a little before climbing on and riding him, and just when his cock was about to spring free, you felt it—his grasp pulling back.

You heard him, hoarsely:

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Your chin jerked up. Probably no more than five seconds had passed since you’d slid down his body, and each act had transpired so swiftly, without a pause or a hitch from what you could tell, that for Joel to stop you so suddenly meant something was off. Something here was wrong.

“We can’t do this,” Joel blurted out at once.

You let go of his waistband. You tried to talk.

“What’s wro—”

“I— I need to tell you something. Now. I’m sorry.”

At the same time, Joel seemed to be asking you to get up. You didn’t hesitate to do exactly that, shuffling back.

Your stomach plummeted inside you as you feared you might’ve done something wrong, or crossed some line.

That, on top of everything else that night, and feeling like Joel might be having second thoughts about your relationship already, was enough to make your eyes sting. There weren’t tears, but that wasn’t far off.

How had you fucked this up so monumentally, so quick?

You chewed the inside of your lip. You blinked furiously.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Joel. I thought you wanted me to—”

“No, I’m sorry. We just can’t do this right now.”

His gaze was serious. Wide. Your heart sank.

You couldn’t help the words that followed.

“Did— did I just do something wrong?”

“No, baby, you didn’t do anythin—”

“You’re having second thoughts?”

Your pulse leapt and sped up.

“No, no, not at all. I’m jus—”

“Because you can tell me.”

“That’s not what I was—”

“If you want to break up—”

“What? That ain’t what I said.”

“So what is it? What’s going on?”

Your worst thoughts were winning.

You were jumping to conclusions again.

There wasn’t time to be rational or sedate.

“Joel Miller, if you’re gonna dump me right now—”

“Sweetheart, there’s a chance I might be your uncle.”

“What?!”

In fairness to you, his admission sounded fucking insane.

Joel could’ve handled this situation in a thousand different ways, and of course, he’d done it horribly.

The timing? Terrible. Treading close to atrocious.

The execution? Piss-poor. Actually, the worst.

You’d been a second away from wrapping your lips around his dick, and he chose that moment to tell you that you might possibly be his long-lost niece? Really?

The look on your face as you shuffled back didn’t surprise him at all. It did make Joel want to vomit a bit.

“Listen, I can explain…” he started, speaking slowly.

He lifted his hands in a conciliatory sort of gesture, then reached for you, but when you pushed back further in the bed, he dropped both. Your eyes went wide in horror.

“What do you mean you’re my fucking uncle, Joel?!”

His widened, too. You might’ve misheard him.

“No, no, I’m not. I’m probably not, I just—”

“Probably?! What is ‘probably’?!”

You’d all but screeched that.

You were standing from the bed. Looking down at it, as if to say, ‘What did I just do? What have we been doing?’ and your face gave way to a grimace. You winced like you’d just witnessed a car wreck firsthand, and again, Joel couldn’t blame you for that. He needed to fix this.

He’d meant to handle this himself. He’d called Tommy at least sixty times that night, when your dad had casually dropped the bomb that Tommy might have slept with his ex-wife and knocked her up over twenty years back, making him your biological father and Joel your uncle.

It was a stretch.

As far as Joel knew, Tommy had never been involved with your mom, much less around the time you’d been born. It was such a wild, far-fetched idea that he and your dad were almost positive that this wasn’t the case.

There was no way.

But if there was…

Joel hadn’t planned on taking any chances until he was certain. He also hadn’t wanted to cause any unneeded trauma by freaking you out and having you go into a panic, like you were right now. He’d intended to play it cool until he could get ahold of his baby brother—if he ever would pick up his fucking phone—and he’d meant to get the truth out of Tommy before doing anything else. Before you got home. Then you’d changed your flight to come back a half-day earlier, and even with all the delays you’d had, Joel still wasn’t able to get in touch with his brother before then. It was late. He’d been stuck between a rock and a hard place, debating whether to spill this big, terrible news that might turn out not to be news at all, while also revealing your dad’s secret that he might not be your father. It was a clusterfuck. It sucked.

Joel had only found this out hours ago, and already, it felt like the world as he and you knew it was going to shit

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lay a finger on you until he was absolutely sure that you weren’t his niece. He hadn’t wanted to fuck up your psyche, as well as the heart of your relationship with your maybe-not-biological-father, by sharing this news. So he’d tried to compromise. Sleep side-by-side and pretend to be too tired to do anything, so he could buy more time before he spoke with Tommy. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Then you’d wrecked his plans by straddling his dick and proceeding to try and suck it, and Joel had been left with no choice.

He blurted it out before he could try and stop himself.

“Tommy might’ve— might’ve fucked your mom.”

It was graceless. Just like everything else.

Your eyes went even wider.

“What?” you breathed.

He kept going.

“There’s…your dad was tellin’ me, there’s a slight chance your mom and Tommy were messin’ around back in the day, about a year before you were born, and…and he isn’t completely sure—there were a few other guys, but he doesn’t know—and he told me. He told me this tonight, when we went out for drinks. And then you came back earlier than I was expecting, and…well, I’ve been tryin’ to get ahold of Tommy, but he ain’t pickin’ up. I wanted—”

“Get your keys,” you cut in suddenly.

Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Wait, what?”

Joel stared, and he saw you were already on your phone. Toggling something on the screen. Frowning down at it.

“Where are we—” Joel tried again.

You snapped your fingers, like you’d found something. Then you looked up at him, briefly, before striding out the bedroom door. You walked quickly; Joel followed.

He wasn’t sure where you were going or what you planned on doing, but he opted to dress while he walked. He threw on his jacket and kicked on his boots, then went fishing for his keys—they were lying in a hodgepodge of shit on the counter, as always—and just as he reached out to grab them, you seized them first.

You were already headed for the car port. You didn’t look behind you, and wouldn’t so much as turn your head when he called out after you. You marched to his car.

“Where are we goin’? You gonna talk to me, honey?”

Joel tried sounding soft. You weren’t having it.

You jumped in and barely gave him the chance to get his seatbelt fastened before you threw the thing in reverse.

You were backing the Bronco out in a blink. Your grip tightened on the wheel, and that was when he saw it.

First, a frown.

Then, your gaze cutting over to his across the center console. It was brief, but a look did more than enough.

“I have Tommy’s location. We’re gonna go beat his ass.”

Life was great for Tommy Miller.

Like, really great.

He had a lady he was half-certain was the love of his life sprawled out in his bed, the sheets they got to share were warm, and the world outside was quiet. At 6 AM, out in the sticks as they were, it usually stayed like this.

Cool. Calm. Serene.

He should buy a house of his own out here one day.

The place they were staying at used to be his granddad’s. Joel had already done a bang up job at fixing it himself, and Tommy wanted to help. He also knew it would make a nice retreat for him and Maria whenever they wanted to get out of the city themselves. She liked it here, which meant that Tommy loved it. He loved her.

Stupid as it sounded, he was now beginning to understand some of Joel’s fixation with you.

If his brother felt even a fraction of what he felt for Maria, Tommy could easily see why Joel would risk his whole friendship with your father to be with you. He got it.

What he couldn’t totally comprehend was why you two wouldn’t come clean already. All this lying and sneaking around behind your daddy’s back must have been awful for you both. It would suck telling him at first, to be sure, but your father wasn’t that intolerant that he couldn’t be convinced to warm up to the idea eventually. You’d be graduating in a few months—you could come back here, not have to treat each other like some big, ugly secret, and then live like he and Maria did, every day. That was what Tommy had wanted for his big brother, anyway.

These thoughts and at least a dozen more were all swirling through his mind after the break of dawn that day, when he was half-asleep and barely more conscious than not. He stretched out in bed, smiling to himself.

He was about to turn and drape an arm over Maria’s side when a sound at the front door stopped him. It was loud.

Someone was knocking.

Banging.

Striking their fist on the wood so hard it sounded like they might’ve been apt to knock the whole thing down.

For a moment, Tommy considered grabbing his pistol. Then he shrugged off the thought, not wanting to freak Maria out by brandishing a firearm at this hour, and instead bounded quickly to the door to see what the fuck this person wanted before their knocking woke her up.

He swung the front door open, nostrils flared.

And there you were, looking just as enraged.

“You motherfucker!” you hissed at him.

Before he could stop you, you were storming inside. He could see Joel behind you, looking almost as overcome as he was, but he didn’t have time to talk to his brother.

Tommy didn’t have time to breathe, as you knocked the wind out of him by pushing past him, your steps forceful.

Your eyes were wide with indignation and ire.

Disbelief and…something like disgust?

“Did you fuck my mom?!” you spat.

What the— what? What?

When he was too stunned to speak—from both drowsiness and the initial shock—you stepped in again. You didn’t touch him, but you got in his face. Very close.

“Answer the fucking question, Miller. Did you?!”

“Sweetheart—” Joel started behind you.

Tommy could hear that his voice was tight. Their eyes flitted up to meet each other, briefly, and at the same time, the door to the bedroom opened. Well, great.

“Did you fuck my mother or not, Tommy?!”

Perfect timing. Tommy swallowed hard.

For some reason, his brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity, and it took him a moment to get his bearings. Evidently, you interpreted this pause as an admission, or something, because your face morphed into one of pure horror, and one of your hands rose to cover your mouth.

“Oh god, you did!” you shrieked. Words high and shrill. “You fucked her, then let me have sex with my uncle!”

Oh, fuck.

What the fuck?

What the everliving fuck?

At last, he found words: “No! No, I never—”

Tommy couldn’t imagine what Maria must be thinking.

You turned on your heel, and, hand still hovering over your mouth, you turned to Joel. You looked like you were about to be sick, as did he. Your breaths shortly faltered.

“We are so fucked!” you said to him. In shock.

Joel seemed as if he wanted to comfort you, but in truth, the man looked just as queasy, and you appeared to be in no state to want to be touched. You spun back around.

Somehow, Tommy was able to conjure up more words. Whether they’d actually make sense was anyone’s guess.

“I— I never had sex with your mom, kid. Never,” he said.

Decent enough.

But you didn’t believe him.

“My dad said you did,” you bit back. “He said that you and—and some other guys were hooking up with my mom right around the time she got pregnant with me, and he thinks you might be my dad, which would be insanely, insanely bad, since I’ve been fucking your brother for the last three months, and you knew that!”

Each word hit with all the force of an eighteen-wheeler.

Again, Tommy was too stunned to talk for a moment.

“Just…just come clean if you did. We need to know.”

That was Joel. His face was screwed up in a wince, like he didn’t really want to know any of this, but it was necessary. He needed to know if his brother was truly stupid enough to have sex with a woman and not mention the fact that her daughter might be Joel’s niece.

Tommy stared back, blinking, before recovering again.

This time, he knew he had to keep his shit together.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maria.

Keep. Your. Fucking. Shit. Together.

“I never…in my life, ever slept with Amy, Joel. I swear,” he said, slowly. Then, turning to you. “I was—what, like…twenty-two when you were born? I didn’t even lose my virginity ‘til I was twenty-four. I never had sex with her.”

“But her dad said—” Joel started.

“Her dad thought I was a slut back then, I know. I wasn’t, but I liked pretending I was. It was easier to act like that than tell the guys I was a virgin, alright? It was stupid.”

He felt stupid.

Even more so in front of Maria, who now not only had to hear this whole insane incest debate but also learned he hadn’t gotten laid until his mid-twenties. It shouldn’t matter—it didn’t matter, and he didn’t regret his choice in the slightest—but still, he felt a pang in his chest.

And more to the point, why the hell would your dad even insinuate that he might’ve slept with Amy? He knew damn well they’d never gotten together. They were friends, sure, but that’s all they ever were, or appeared.

None of it made any sense.

Clearly, the news was still settling in between you, Joel, Maria, and even himself. Silence stretched on for some seconds, and Tommy released a sigh to himself. His heart rate gradually slowed, and he looked to Maria.

And where he’d expected to find her distraught, if not disgusted or a little humiliated on his behalf, he saw a smile. It was faint, but it was there. From the opposite side of the living room, in the dim glow of the morning sun’s first rays, he could see it. She was smiling at him.

Your family’s kind of insane.

I still love you, by the way.

Maria didn’t need to speak to him in words, but he felt it. He couldn’t help but grin weakly back at her, wanting to walk over to her and give her a big, bear hug in apology.

Unfortunately, Tommy didn’t get that chance, as you jumped him in the next instant with a hug of your own.

You squeezed tight and exhaled shakily into his chest.

“Shit. Tommy, I am so sorry. I’m sorry,” you said.

His grin stretched bigger in spite of himself.

In spite of this whole ridiculous, messy situation, he smiled and hugged you back. You were like a little sister to him, thankfully not a daughter, and Tommy forgave folks easily. Over the top of your head, he glanced at his girlfriend again, and he mouthed a soft apology himself.

I’m so sorry, Maria.

Also, I love you more.

“It’s all good, kid.” Out of habit, and feeling the same protective instinct he’d always felt for you, he kissed the crown of your head. He rubbed your back as you hugged. “If I thought somebody was dumb enough not to tell me I might be fuckin’ my uncle, I’d also try to kick their ass.”

You laughed. You shook your head a little against him.

“You’re too big. I could never actually do it,” you said.

“I might,” Joel rejoined from someplace behind you.

That threat had no teeth. His brother was simply heaving a sigh of relief as he plopped down on the couch, likely thinking to himself that he was so fucking glad this conversation hadn’t steered where he feared it might. Briefly, Tommy caught his gaze, then squeezed you in his arms a little bit tighter. He angled your bodies to Joel.

“Even if he ain’t your uncle, are you sure you wanna be stuck with this loser, honey? He’s an ass, as you can see.”

He was talking to you, but his focus was on Joel. Smug.

The man on the sofa just rolled his eyes. He reached out to snag the waistband of your shorts and tug you back, while Tommy kept that wry, knowing smirk on his lips.

He let go, and you gladly dropped over into Joel’s lap.

“Too late. We’re dating,” his brother hummed back.

Dating?

Well, shit.

Tommy stared harder, only this time his look was one of surprise—and muted satisfaction. He glanced at Maria, who was yawning and preparing to draw back into the bedroom, it looked like. Then he remembered how early it was. His brother looked just as drained laying out on the couch, and if he’d had to guess, you and Joel would be retiring to the guest bedroom to crash at any minute.

He would have to keep this quick.

“Goin’ steady, huh?” he pressed.

“Don’t start.” Joel raised a hand, yawning himself.

You were all too tired for this shit. Tommy couldn’t resist. Like the bonehead little brother he was, he had to say it. He’d been waiting too long to see Joel in a relationship.

He was already retreating to the bedroom, to Maria, and he didn’t intend on dragging this out, but the opportunity was also too tempting to ignore.

“And y’all didn’t ask for my permission?” he called over his shoulder. Taunting. “A father has a right to know!”

Joel lifted one big, callused middle finger from the sofa. You smiled and waved and gave your best impression of a person much sweeter than you normally were, saying:

“Sorry, Dad, Uncle Joel’s dick was too good to resist!”

Eeeeeewwwwwww.

Tommy made a face as he left.

“I’m going back to bed. Y’all are sick.”

And on some level, he meant it. He was also grinning ear-to-ear as he shut the bedroom door behind him and turned to Maria, who was sliding under the covers.

“Your life is a Folgers commercial,” she chuckled.

“Pretty much,” he murmured as he joined her.

Then, without thinking twice about it, he reached for one of the pillows that had fallen off the bed. He nudged it over his girlfriend’s way, as if offering for her to take it, and when Maria cocked a brow, Tommy pointed to the door. He could already hear you and Joel going upstairs.

“You’ll need this. Use it to cover your ears,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I know anything about those two, they’re about to have some of the most disgustingly loud sex.”

You and Joel were having the most disgustingly loud sex.

It always was, though, wasn’t it?

The concern wasn’t one that often crossed your mind when getting drilled from behind by Joel Miller, but today, with his brother—who was not your biological father—and his girlfriend in the room directly below the one where you and Joel were fucking, you did consider it.

Were you being too noisy? Could they hear you now?

Was Joel pounding too hard, and should you have maybe put a pillow between the metal bed frame and the wall?

There was no time to fix the latter. You were in too deep. Joel was in too deep himself, digging through your guts with every quick, merciless thrust of his hips against you. His grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed down. He wanted your upper half damn near parallel with the bed, while your ass was up and pointed just where he could fuck your wet and needy cunt. He drove in hard.

Every push of his cock through your body, sawing back and forth, again and again with increasing vigor, could’ve supplied noise enough to wake the whole neighborhood. The dizzying squelch, the persistent, wet smack of his groin against your ass, the tiny strings of your shared arousal and sweat stretching far and then colliding all over again with each new thrust, all blew your cover.

If you’d had any desire to keep your sex noises private, your body and his were doing a terrible fucking job of it.

You might as well have painted it on a billboard by now:

‘WE REALLY, REALLY LOVE FUCKING!’

‘WE’RE NOT RELATED, BY THE WAY!!’

Perhaps that was why Joel was so earnest now—having just found out that this had all been a false alarm and you could fuck as much as desired, well…it did things to him.

It did things to you, too.

It made it hard to keep quiet or even try to curb the frenzy when Joel sheathed himself fully inside, held it, then leaned over your prone body to press his hand to the back of your head. He tilted your chin toward him as best he could in this position. He dug even deeper, and you felt him in your fucking lungs. You let out a whimper

“Joel—”

“Look at me, darlin’,” Joel said, gruff. “You’re close, hm?”

You were.

You nodded your head against his firm hold.

Your eyes tried meeting his from where your face was pressed against the mattress and Joel was hovering directly above, but the effort was fruitless. Your gaze couldn’t stay on his like he’d wanted. Joel grunted.

He pulled you up. He tugged you back into a semi-kneeling position, so that your back was flush with his chest and your bodies still connected. His lips pressed a quick, calming kiss to your neck before he moved again.

Before you knew it, you were off the bed and standing—more a function of Joel holding you up than any strength in your legs. You were propped against a pretty wooden dresser with a mirror attached to the back. In your shared reflection, you met Joel’s gaze, and he grinned at you. He wasted no time pushing back inside and watching your face contort with the pressure and the stretch of his girth. Your jaw went slack; you clenched around him.

And you could feel in the responding groan from Joel that he was just as close. You’d been at it for less than five minutes, but the ardor and the relief and the fact that it had been weeks since you’d gotten to do this together was enough to send you both spiraling fast. Joel reached for your hip in one hand and held your throat in the other. He went on at a relentless pace.

With every snap of his hips, your knees hit the dresser drawers. It didn’t hurt. Joel angled your body so he wasn’t pushing you too hard into the surface of the furniture, but he did make you feel it. He lowered his head closer to yours so that your faces were side-by-side in the mirror, and you felt his stubble graze your cheek.

“Y’know, I meant what I said. Last time,” Joel murmured.

What?

As close as you both were now, how could the man even string words together, much less bring up old memories?

You steeled yourself in place, barely holding his gaze.

“Wh— Huh?” You sounded dumb as shit. “What?”

Joel’s teeth grazed the soft, tender skin from your jaw to your chin while he continued to work himself in and out. He slowed his thrusts to a much calmer, gentler rhythm.

He kissed your cheek just as he plunged in, balls deep.

You let out a whine so desperate, pitchy, and shrill at that, you almost didn’t hear it when he spoke again:

“I told you that I was ready.” Another gentle withdrawal. “To tell your dad.” A thrust back in. “Whenever you were.”

Shit.

So that was what this was about.

You felt good. You felt like you were ready, too.

But the prospect of telling your father the truth about you and Joel was nothing short of terrifying, frankly. Imagining what he might say—or do—to the man you loved made you want to keep this hidden away for as long as you possibly could. It was selfish, you knew it. Still, it was scary to think of all the things that would change as soon as you made this known to your dad.

From what you could tell, though, Joel wasn’t feeling quite the same level of concern. He fucked you slow and deep. He let his hand slide from your throat to your legs.

Between them, he found your clit easily and pressed in.

He rubbed circles while he dragged his cock in and out at the most maddening pace, and with every thrust, you could feel him hit that sensitive place, again and again.

You shuddered in his arms. You braced your hands against the dresser below, not wanting to collapse.

Sensing you were right at the brink of ecstasy, and likely wanting something to fill the lull you’d left, Joel went on.

“You— you want that, too, don’t you?”

There was patent need in that tone.

The slightest tinge of insecurity.

You didn’t want Joel to think for even a moment that you were having second thoughts, so you fought back the worry in your own mind, and you nodded your head.

“Y-Yeah, Joel. I want it,” you whispered. “I’m just scared.”

Hell, that admission might as well have been written on your face, because your expression said it all. You were teetering on release and fucking terrified of this coming to an end. The eyes that held his were a bit glossier now. Joel saw that and seemed to ease off, pressing his lips back to your skin as he rocked his hips back and forth.

“I am, too,” he confessed. His breath hitched, and the circles on your clit grew a little sloppier. He was close. “We— we can wait. I just wanna…take you places, hon.”

You knew what he meant by that. Going out without having to check over your shoulder every ten minutes, wondering if this was the time you got caught. Not needing to worry so much. Again, you nodded, and you felt Joel’s cock twitch inside you. Your walls ached, and the knot in your stomach was tightening every second.

You were about to speak up, when Joel cut back in.

“I love you. I…I don’t care how long this takes us.”

“I love you, Joel.”

You couldn’t manage much more than that. Already the tides of pleasure were rising too high, and your chest was flooded with a heady feeling. You were about to give in, still holding Joel’s gaze in the mirror, and from behind you, you could see his demeanor harden with purpose.

On hearing you say those words, you loved him, plans involving his old friend and the worst the man might think when you two came clean with the truth were lost to the ether, it seemed. He set it all aside, at least momentarily, as he worked on drawing your pleasure out and also getting himself there in time. He held your hip tighter and drew his quick, messy circles through your folds in just the way you liked, and he kissed you gently. He fucked you gently. He made every last word and touch and brush of his cock inside you feel as tender as you’d ever felt it before. You came undone in seconds.

‘I love you’ was almost like a refrain between you both.

Joel shortly followed. He groaned against your neck as the pleasure fluttered and pulsed—muttered something about wanting to spill inside, but you both knew better. He withdrew just in time to paint the insides of your thighs, then your ass, then the small of your back.

There was so much. While relishing your own moment of bliss, you couldn’t help but savor the warmth and weight of Joel’s spend coating your skin. It made it feel that much more raw, and primal, and from the look Joel had lowered between your bodies to take in that wet, sticky mess, you could tell he was thinking the same as you.

You weren’t surprised, and didn’t flinch, when he pushed two fingers in your mouth. He still had you up against the dresser, eyes locked on your own reflection, so you saw what he’d wanted you to see. You licked and sucked the cum off his fingers until they were completely clean. A reflexive whine reverberated down those fingers after you’d swallowed, and Joel’s first instinct was to smile.

“You did so good for me, sweet pea,” he praised.

His hand strayed down your front, mapping the skin mindlessly and with that same, sweet grin on his lips. You preened beneath his touch and didn’t want it to end.

Eventually, it had to. You were both drenched in cum and sweat, and as cold as it happened to be outdoors, your activities had managed to kick the heat up more than a few degrees. Joel’s chest and shoulders were glistening.

“Shower?” you murmured, turning around to face him.

Joel hummed in agreement.

He swept his thumb between your thighs one last time before teasing the tip at your lips. You suckled it softly, if not with a drowsy and contented little smile to match his

You showered. You toweled off. You threw on his shirt, Joel slid on his boxers, and you both crawled into bed. Anything beyond snuggling in and sleeping wasn’t high on the list of priorities, as you assumed it was for Tommy and Maria, so you were surprised to hear a noise right after you closed your eyes. It was a knock on the door.

It was Tommy’s. You could tell.

Sensing the same, Joel called out:

“We’re sleepin’, man, c’mon. Go on now.”

You were certain Tommy and Maria could’ve said the same when the two of you had been engaged in your cacophonous fuckfest just fifteen minutes prior, so you stayed quiet. You squeezed Joel’s arm around your waist.

The knocking continued.

This time, it was accompanied by Tommy’s voice.

“Are y’all decent?”

In other words: not naked and going to traumatize him. You were both semi-clothed and under the covers anyway, so you yelled back that, yes, you were.

Tommy walked in. He had his phone to his ear.

Then he held the thing up, where you could dimly make out that the call was on mute, but what alarmed you even more was the contact name on the screen.

Joel leapt into a sitting position just as quickly as you.

You both froze; Tommy gestured as if to say, ‘Relax.’

“Wh— why is my dad calling you?!” you demanded.

You had no idea how the man was staying so calm. This was a bad thing, right? Beside you, Joel seemed to be thinking the same, because he twisted his head toward the window. He craned his neck, as if checking to see if your father might not be parked outside the front door. Your body tensed glancing back at Tommy—he was still holding the phone like it was a prize, or something—and when you saw him smirk a bit, you shot him a wary look.

“What?! What does he want?” you pressed again.

Instead of answering immediately, Tommy moved his thumb over to the ‘unmute’ button, and his grin grew.

“I dunno, why don’t you ask him yourself?” he said.

At the same time, and before Tommy could press that button, you and Joel both shouted at once: “DON’T!”

It almost would’ve been comical if it wasn’t also bone-chillingly horrifying. What the hell was his problem?

As if to press that last question, Joel stood from the bed and stalked over to his brother. Tommy ambled back, still taunting, and held the phone up closer to his face. Right when Joel lunged for it, the nimbler Miller jumped back. Joel blew out a breath and gritted for Tommy to grow the fuck up, would ya? Tommy just smirked and continued the song-and-dance for the cellular device. It didn’t take much for the two to get into a full-blown battle for the thing, and before you knew it, Joel had his brother snagged in a headlock, Tommy was laughing his ass off and telling him the chokehold’s illegal, asshole, and you were a second away from intervening. Fuck this noise.

“Tommy, you’re bein’ a—” you started, sharp.

“Fuckin’ dickhead!” Joel finished for you.

He’d almost wrestled the phone out of Tommy’s grip, when his brother turned and surprised you both again—he threw the phone your way. You shrieked out loud.

Force of habit.

You narrowly caught the phone in your hands.

And, having nearly dropped it at first, your fingers seized at the screen to secure their grasp. Of course, your thumb tapped right on the key you’d been trying to avoid

“Shit,” you cursed reflexively.

“Sweetheart?”

The phone was on speaker.

Across the room, Joel froze in place, and the color drained from him completely. You, too, were stock-still.

“D-Dad?” you stammered.

You half-expected him to shout—‘What on earth are you doin’ home early? And with Tommy?’—and you winced. For a second, you thought your friend might’ve snitched, and you shot him a look, but then your dad was back.

“Hey! Glad Tommy got ahold of ya. He said you caught an early flight back to surprise me. Y’all at the airport?”

You swallowed.

You must’ve said yes, because your father went on.

“Good, good. Keep your bags packed, alright?”

“Why?” You hoped he didn’t hear you falter.

Time was moving too fast. Your heart was no doubt drilling holes in your ribcage by now. Blood rushed and swirled and deafened your ears to all that was going on, but dimly, you could see Joel’s expression across the room. It was pensive, while his brother’s stayed amused.

Tommy knew something you didn’t.

Before you could begin to wonder what that was, your dad’s voice across the line shortly supplied the answer.

It was laid-back, easy, and uncharacteristically excited.

You hadn’t thought you’d ever heard him so eager about anything in his life, but there he went, telling you at once:

“I’m down in Galveston—I want y’all to come too, ASAP!”

[fuck-customers]

tw/cw: mentions of self harm (near the end)

tldr: im literally about to quit because i'm being used, essentially

i feel like an asshole (and probably am one) but isn't it real funny how i'm literally the only one at work who's never called out, never requested days off, covered everyone's shift when someone can't make it (at least once i didn't, but that's only because i didn't see it. i was asleep all day that day) but god forbid i call out because of inclement weather, suddenly people are out of town and can't make it or their phones are off and they pretend like they can't hear them ringing.

i apologize that i live an hour away, but there's literally a thick sheet of ice on the roads and i can't fucking make it. i am quite literally spinning out going ten miles an hour. it took me 30 minutes to get back up a hill to get back home. you have no reason to get pissed at me for it because i'm not the one controlling the weather??? and if i can't make it again today what's gonna happen???

like i'm putting my two weeks in. my mom and aunt agreed that i should, because she's not taking my safety into consideration and i've done nothing but cover for other people. nobody else is called in because someone calls out. it's always me. the one who lives over an hour away, no thought process taken, when there are two other people who both live within five minutes of the facility. one of them has a daughter (who's 9), and while i understand she needs to take care of her, she calls out so consistently that it's unfair, at this point. i love her to death but it's genuinely not fair at all how our boss is allowing this. she's also giving her all our guaranteed weekends, and she's (ie my boss) making her situation our problem, when it shouldn't be.

i'm also being used just to work holidays, because they KNOW i won't say no because of my car payment. i'm being overworked and i'm burning out so bad and i've only been there for four months. i literally am considering hurting myself just to be able to not go in. and it's been a long time since i've had ANY sort of ideation.

Posted by admin Rodney

[acoldsovereign]

Is he offended? Good.

She continued, as if he said nothing.

With a lazy glance over her shoulder--and an even lazier sway of her tail, she said,

"--but you're already doing worse with that hair of yours. The least you could do is fix it before you stumble out of whatever abode you came from."

Indirectly shows her ass again by turning around.

With her back turned to Gohan, she raised her shoulders half-heartedly. "Inspect my fashion sense all you want and take notes. That orange still looks horrendous on you.

"Do better."

{{ I'm resurrecting Gohan Bullying Hours 😭

@n3rdb0x

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 38

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Getting a snow day as an adult absolutely hits different.

Due to the inclement weather my work closed! As per our collective, in these cases we do not work from home, but we do get paid for the day :D

Last night Skylar and I made a deal, if there was a "snow day" then we would open our valentine's day gifts a day early. This stunning glass teapot and the new cup (set of 4) were what Skylar got me!

I love them so much. I broke them in with the almond, rose, and amaranth tea :'3

Let's get into chapter 38!

okay! we're getting the backstory for the Human Face Disease! p163

The art :'3 I will say this is a much better depiction of the human face disease (imo) than the previous one we saw with the bandaged boy. You can really see the human face in this one. p164

We have established the disease is contagious as fuck, but I really want to know what caused it in the first place. p169

Wait is this inhuman tree-corpse where the guy (Lang Ying) buried his son? Also, ofc in the middle of an emergency they also have to deal with a war attack. p171

This is wild to me. The people would rather die than live with some marks on their face. So dramatic and fucked up. p173

Honestly, I would 100% believe it was a product of a curse too. Especially with no one from Yong'an getting the disease. p175

Feng Xin, LOL, this guy, "so we just order everyone to work out?" no my guy, that is not how this works. p177

"some old rules" is honestly genius. If two people arguing had to argue that way, I think the problems would be solved like 80% of the time. p180. Their old married couple bickering tactic, Xie Lian as couple's therapist.

I am struggling a bit of the messaging in this arc. It feels very much like it's "you cannot change fate" or "your actions are irrelevant". Like I am unsure what the theme I, because if it is one of both of those two, I call bullshit. p183

And another thing! This speech by Lang Ying about counting on himself instead is also wild. Why are the gods even a thing at this point if they can't do anything for people. p186

This is going south so fast with Lang Ying being marked for ascension/kinghood (is that a word, whatever it is now lol) and Xianle taking a hit with Xie Lian failing. p188

WHAT THE FUCK! I thought they just had face scars/marks. The faces are screaming and eating things now :(((((((((((((((((((((((((. OMG. Now I get why people would choose an exit. p189

WAIT. This white no-face has the face of Xie Lian??? What does this mean?? p200.

Why did this chapter end with so many exclamation points

What a wild ride, I feel like we are on the cusp of catastrophe now, I'm at this point, waiting for the roller coaster to crest and watch everything go downhill.

Gah!

[lilypadlys]

In Your Arms

Dew is having a hard time on tour. Between being homesick, missing Aether, and having nightmares, he's at the end of his rope and snapping at everyone. He really needs some gentle love but who do you turn to when you've pushed everyone away?

Ship: Dew/Swiss, bit of Dew/Aether

Word Count: 1550

Rating: Teen (for mild language)

Tags: SFW, fluff, hurt/comfort, cuddles

Below the cut or on AO3

The tour is nearing its end. Everything has been going mostly smoothly. The new summons Aurora and Phantom have integrated seamlessly. No major injuries have been sustained. Only some venue issues and inclement weather stood in the way of it being a flawless run and those were out of their control.

Still, Dew feels on edge. He’s tired. Being away from the ministry, constantly on the move, and missing Aether and Sunny, as well as a million other discomforts are all taking their toll. He hasn’t slept soundly in ages, sleep plagued with nightmares.

He’s been extremely snappy at everyone. He manages to pull himself together for the shows. Falling into his role, taking out his frustrations on his guitar strings. Off stage though, he can’t find an outlet. The smallest thing sets him off.

He hates himself for it. Cumulus didn’t deserve the hisses he spewed at her when she tried to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. Poor Phantom looked ready to cry when Dew told him to fuck off when he asked if they wanted to room together at the hotel last night. Aurora and Rain have been avoiding him entirely, afraid of invoking his wrath. Cirrus and Mountain shoot him glares on the regular in response to his snarky asides. Swiss is the only one still willing to deal with him and even the multi ghoul’s patience has its limits.

When they get settled in the hotel for the night, Swiss just wordlessly hauls the grumpy fire ghoul into their room before he can start a fresh argument in the hotel lobby. Swiss has given up trying to help. He sighs tiredly as Dew chucks his overnight bag to the floor, causing a loud thump. Dew flops on his bed and turns his back to Swiss with a growl. Swiss just shakes his head, exhaling through his nose, and disappears into the bathroom to shower. Dew is left to glower in solitude.

When the bathroom door clicks shut, Dew huffs and rolls onto his back. He doesn’t know what to do. How to get out of this funk. He knows the other’s are trying to help but he can’t lower his guard long enough to let them. Aether could fix this. He thinks. Aether always knew what to do to get Dew to chill. Be it forcing him into a cuddle pile, fucking him senseless, or even just letting Dew rage. Aether’s patience seemed neverending. No matter how long he was out of it, how many nasty things Dew said, Aether always forgave him.

As if on cue, Dew hears his phone buzz. He wrestles it out of his pocket and glances at the screen. Aether.

“Hey Firelily.” The text reads.

“Hey Aeth.”

“How’re you holding up?”

Dew snorts. “What do you think? I’m sure Mount already blabbed to you.” Dew instantly regrets it as soon as he hits send. Why is he like this? Here’s Aether, checking on him, obviously concerned about him, and all he can do is be a bitch.

“Yes, Mountain told me you weren’t feeling well. Is it the nightmares again?”

Dew is once again amazed at Aether’s uncanny ability to always find the root of the problem.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry Spark. I wish I could be there to help.”

But you’re not, is all Dew can think. He knows it’s not Aether’s fault. He’d be here if he could. But he’s not.

Even though he holds back from typing it, Aether seems to know what he’s thinking anyway.

“You’ll be back home soon and then I’ll help in whatever way I can.” Aether promises.

“Thanks.”

Dew makes to toss his phone to the nightstand when it buzzes again.

“The others care about you too. They just want to help.”

Dew wants to make some jerky comment but he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears that have begun to form.

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s hard but you’ve got to open up. They can’t help if you don’t let them.”

Dew sits in silence with that. He knows it. Truly he knows that everyone in the pack loves him and cares about him, and that they want to help. And yet all he’s done is push them away.

“Sweet dreams Dew.”

Dew does start to cry then. He so desperately needs a hug. Needs someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him everything will be alright. That they don’t hate him despite how horrible he’s been. Needs someone to hold him as he falls asleep and to protect him from the nightmares and nasty thoughts that plague his brain whenever he tries to relax. He curls up into a ball, tail wrapped around himself, as he sobs into the sheets.

He doesn’t hear as Swiss quietly opens the bathroom door, despite the water never running. He doesn’t see him round the corner. Swiss’ gentle touch on his back startles him and flinches; hissing and baring teeth. Dew watches in horror as Swiss’ expression goes from gentle concern, to hurt, to angry exasperation. Swiss grits his teeth and withdraws his hand. “Sorry.” He mutters as he turns away.

“Wait.” Dew forces the word out.

Swiss turns back, brow raised; unimpressed.

“I-I’m sorry.” Dew uncurls himself and sits up as fresh tears well in his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

Swiss’ expression softens. He sits on the edge of the bed, giving Dew his space, and waits.

Dew trembles as he forces the words out between sobs. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk. You guys were just trying to help.”

“Yeah, you’ve really been a shit recently.” Swiss agrees, teasingly rather than meanly.

Dew shrinks. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh baby.” Swiss scoots a little closer. “We don’t hate you. Why do you think we haven’t thrown you off the tour bus yet?”

“But I probably deserve it at this point.” He whimpers.

“Nah, not quite.”

“Great, another thing I can’t do right.” Dew huffs and rolls his eyes but there’s no malice in it. Instead he just sounds disappointed in himself.

“Stop that. You can do plenty of things right.”

“Uh huh.” Dew frowns, unconvinced.

“Well first of all, you're the best lead guitarist I know.”

“That’s mean to Ifrit. And Alpha.”

“I don’t care. You’re better.” Dew gives him a look but Swiss continues. “You also make amazing pancakes.”

“That’s like the only thing I can do in the kitchen.”

“So? I love pancakes.”

Dew’s sobs have slowed to the occasional sniffle and a smile is threatening to break out so Swiss keeps going.

“And let's see. You’re pretty too. That doesn’t hurt.”

Dew makes a pouty face but Swiss interrupts before he can protest.

“You are. And I have excellent taste so you know it’s true.”

That does it and the corners of Dew’s lips are quivering upwards. He ducks his head in an attempt to hide.

“In fact, the only thing I can think of that you’re bad at is getting us to hate you.” Swiss closes the distance and nuzzles Dew’s head. “We love you, you little idiot. Don’t forget it, okay?” He purrs in Dew’s ear.

Rather than pull away, Dew leans into Swiss and rewards him for his efforts with a low purr of his own.

“Thanks Swiss.” Dew mumbles shyly.

“Of course Droplet.”

Dew suddenly looks up. “I need to apologize to the others.”

“That you do, but it can wait until the morning. Right now you need sleep.”

“But-”

“No buts. Go shower and change into comfy clothes. I showered back at the venue so I’ll get a nest set up.”

Dew does as he’s told and gets up. He shucks his boots and clothes on his way to the bathroom. The hot water does wonders, washing away sweat and his bad mood alike. He feels infinitely better as he towels off and slips into clean sweats. When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds a blanket nest on the bed as promised, Swiss ensconced in the middle.

“C’mere.” Swiss beckons and Dew hops on the bed and curls up next to him, his back to the multi ghoul’s chest. Swiss pulls a blanket over the two of them and starts to run his claws through Dew’s golden mane.

Once he gets all the tangles out, he starts to braid, humming softly. Dew can’t help but be reminded of Aether. The quintessence ghoul used to do this as well. He figures Aether probably told Swiss how to help and normally Dew would be angry. It’s something special and private. Aether is typically the only one Dew can truly open up with, and be this vulnerable around. But now, he finds he doesn’t mind. He lets himself relax for once as Swiss hums and whispers praise and affirmations.

Dew doesn’t know at what point he drifts off, just that for the first time in a while he’s slept peacefully. Nightmare free.

As soon as he sees the others at breakfast he apologizes. Despite his fears, they all forgive him immediately and he finds himself in the middle of a group hug. He doesn’t even feign dislike, and just lets himself enjoy being held. In their arms he feels warm, and safe, and loved.

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

02/18/2025 "Fiction and Feast" Progress Update:

God dammit. I wrote like a whole four paragraphs for a progress update and tumblr crashed and completely deleted it. So you're going to get the bits and pieces I remember lol.

I edited one whole page today, look at me go. Yeah, my brain was too mushy for anything more, but I think it's because I'm getting sick. Haven't been able to focus at all (I compared it to Artrax drowning in the Swamp of Sadness in the Neverending Story in my original draft, but I'm too annoyed that it got deleted to try again so just imagine I had a really funny metaphor about a depressed horse.)

I'm admittedly a little stuck on the mudslide scene. Why is there anything having to do with a mudslide in a vampire fic? Your guess is as good as mine, friend.

I've never written anything about natural disasters or even inclement weather at all, so this is interesting new territory for me. Action in general I have a hard time with, which frustrates me because I really, really like writing action. It's some of the funnest stuff to experiment with.

(This is nerdy so sorry in advance) One of my favorite books of all time, "The Knife of Never Letting Go" by Patrick Ness, was a huge inspiration to me growing up for action scenes. If you've never read it, highly recommend, but the way he writes action (or at least suspenseful scenes) is he ignores pretty much all rules of writing. It turns into pages of frantic chaos-- experimenting with where the words are positioned on the page; forgoing punctuation; bolding, italicizing, and even changing the fonts of some words-- and I take MASSIVE inspiration from him when I write (though dammit I couldn't ever do it justice.) I don't really go as crazy as he does (mostly because I'm sure that would turn some people off lol), but I do still very much toy with where paragraphs end and begin, which is something he places a lot of importance on in that book. And I thought it might be interesting, considering one of this fic's subjects is books (hence the "fiction"), to step outside of my comfort zone with this scene and style it differently. But, clearly I'm having some troubles with it. Surely that's to be expected, though, if I'm trying something new out.

You still here? Great, here's more rambling about other shit. Void journal, like I said.

Since I didn't have any energy/brain power to write, I did a lot of reading during my breaks at work (only self-indulgent reading, we're greedy here). I read through a lot of my komahina fic I have four chapters of posted. Uh, don't read that one, 'cause I'm probably going to delete it and either just never let it see the light of day or redo it at some point in the late future. I have a whole fucking 72K words I've not released but it's because I've realized how much I hate it (or at least parts of it, I still really like a lot of the dialogue I've written, which I guess just makes it more tragic.) Sad it took me SO MANY WORDS to realize that, but I digress. And I've learned from a small stint on ao3 years ago with another fandom that I will not and should not continue to release something that I hate or I'm going to stop writing for two years and leave a bunch of people hanging on a huge fic with only 4 chapters left with no intention of finishing it. So now it's just a for-me thing that I can make fun of.

I fucking love komahina btw; that was THE ship for me when I first played Danganronpa.

Anyway, incoherent rambling finished. If you've made it this far, I hope you have a good night. I'm falling asleep listening to this. So pretty, so very sleepy.

[renxzs]

Flight to Orynth x Rowaelin | AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Aelin’s flight is delayed due to inclement weather. Thankfully she has a certain silver haired stranger to keep her company.

Word Count: 4.3k

CW: nsfw (18+ only), strangers in an airport, slight praise kink, modern au

Aelin: September 9th

Lysandra: ???

Aelin: Save the date. For my upcoming wedding to the hottest fucking male I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. 🥵

Lysandra: SEND PIC

Aelin: hahaha, uh no. 

Lysandra: Aelin!! pleeaasse

Aelin: I’m not snapping a photo of a stranger like a fucking creep.

Lysandra: May I remind you of our trip to Wendlyn last summer…

Aelin’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly with a snort. Her best friend loved to play dirty. 

Her gaze cut up across the sitting area to the unsuspecting male. His nose continued to be buried in a novel. Of course, he just had to be a reader, too. Gods help her.

Aelin: FINE

Lysandra: 😁😘

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as her eyes were drawn back to the silver haired male still focused on his book. She wasn’t normally so easily rattled by a male, let alone one across a large room whom she hadn’t even spoken to.

It was just one silly picture.

Attempting to be inconspicuous, Aelin shifted the angle of her phone until the lens brought the subject of her attention into focus. He was truly a beautiful specimen… Gods, get a grip. Her thumb hit the shutter button and snapped a few back-to-back frames. 

Recrossing her legs, Aelin pulled up the most recent photo in her album app. A hint of a smile dusted her lips while she drank in the male. The photo didn’t do him justice, yet somehow was still unfairly flattering. And that quiet smirk tugging on his lips had faint flutters stirring low in her belly. 

Aelin’s teeth dragged over her bottom lip as she sent the photo off to Lys, who must have been poised and ready to pounce. Her response was near immediate. 

Lysandra: GODS FUCK, AELIN. 

Her teeth clamped down harder to stifle her laugh. 

Aelin: I know! 

Lysandra: THE MUSCLES.

Lysandra: THE FACE. 

Aelin: I know!!!!

Aelin: Lys, I’ve never wanted a stranger so bad. 🥵 it’s been way too long.. I’m dying over here. 

Lysandra: Go climb that male like a tree. NOW!

Aelin: 😂

Lysandra: I’m dead serious. You’re hot as fuck. It’d be a damn blessing for any male to—

Aelin slammed her phone face down onto her lap when a low voice practically purred, “If you need a close up, don’t be afraid to ask.” The lilt of his accent thrummed through her in all the best places.

She whipped to where the voice had come from, only to be brought up short with that gorgeous silver haired male now occupying the seat to her left. 

Proximity only enhanced his already attractive features—piercing emerald that banded his pupils, sharp lines and strong jaw, thick lashes that every male seemed to undeservingly have, plush soft pink lips that curved into a self-assured smirk.

Aelin’s eyes snagged on swirls of black ink peeking out just above his shirt collar. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbow, exposing powerful arms—the left one covered in more ink down to his wrist. Her fingers itched to uncover if his sleeve connected to the tattoo on his chest.

Gods, she could quite possibly die. Her pulse hammered in her ears and her palms felt clammy with the shock of being caught.

With a clearing of her throat, she shoved the embarrassment down and grabbed furiously at the threads of inner bravado she could typically summon so easily. 

Aelin leveled her gaze with his then quipped, “Can a female be blamed for admiring the male form?”

His smirk grew as his eyes flicked down her body before settling back on her face. “Certainly not.”

Her current travel attire consisted of her favorite pair of yoga pants that nicely accentuated her toned legs and ass, and a cropped hoodie that tastefully exposed a section of her midriff—practical and cozy, but also cute. Her new companion seemed to agree. 

The male relaxed back in his seat, slightly orienting his body towards her. He reached out a large bronze hand, “I’m Rowan.”

His grasp was warm and firm. “Aelin.”

Rowan hummed appreciatively, his hand lingering against hers a moment longer. “Pretty.”

Heat rose to her neck and cheeks. Averting her gaze, Aelin’s eyes fell to the phone in her lap. This was all Lysandra’s fault. She just knew her best friend would be laughing herself silly if she were privy to Aelin’s current situation.

Aelin subtly shifted in her seat as well, to better see Rowan. She made a show of recrossing her legs, letting her right foot bob freely in the air. His gaze tracked the movement, leaving a trail of heat tingling up the length of her leg.

“So what brings you to this fine establishment on a stormy Tuesday evening?” Aelin asked airly with a wave of her hand to their general surroundings.

Rowan chuckled, laugh lines crinkling around pretty green eyes. “Your flight grounded due to the weather, too?”

She nodded her confirmation. “Orynth. You?” 

The corners of his lips upturned. “Same. Flying in from Doranelle after visiting on holiday.” She wondered idly who exactly he might’ve been visiting. Friends, family—a significant other? 

“I try to go home at least twice a year,” Rowan supplied, as if her thoughts were written across her face. “Though my cousins insist it’s not enough,” he chuckled. So family, then.

Aelin hummed. “So you work and live in Orynth then?”

“Yeah. I took a position back in the fall at UT.” She raised an eyebrow. Snagging a position at the University of Terrasen was an impressive feat. “I love it so far,” Rowan continued. “And Terrasen is a beautiful country.” 

She couldn’t help the fond smile that curved her lips. “It really is.” She gently nudged his calf with her foot and crooned, “What is it you teach, Professor?”

The change was subtle, but Aelin swore his pupils dilated ever so slightly. Interesting. Rowan snorted, “History.”

“Explains the novel,” she said, dipping her chin towards the worn war book tucked into a side pocket of his carryon bag.

“What can I say, it’s an area of interest.” 

Aelin’s smile broadened with mischief. “I could provide a few recommendations if you’re looking to add a bit of spice to your repertoire.”

Rowan’s head tipped back as he barked a laugh. “Oh, Aelin—I’m quite sure you could.” 

Her name wrapped in his voice was like whiskey, all smooth burning heat. Her belly swooped with the suggestion coloring his tone.

“And what is it that you do, outside of your personal interest in photography?” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Surely assassin is off the list. You’re about as subtle as a flying brick.” 

Aelin hit his arm playfully, refusing to allow her subsiding flush of embarrassment to rise to the surface of her skin again. “I work in publishing,” with a muttered bastard under her breath. To which Rowan heard perfectly, if his amused chuckle was any indication.

“Ahh, so you truly are equipped to hand out recommendations then,” he surmised.

Aelin leaned a bit into his space and hummed a confirmation, then added, “But the spicy recs are solely of personal interest.”

Her eyes tracked the bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly. She rested back into her seat again with a satisfied smirk.

Rowan’s gaze darted to the large screen mounted by their gate, skimming the information displayed. A moment later, his pine-green eyes were focused back on her. A quiet heat began to unfurl in the pit of her stomach as she held his stare.

His words were soft when he spoke. “Flight is still delayed for the foreseeable future. Let me buy you a drink.”

She pretended to mull over the pros and cons of sharing a drink with this virtual stranger—incredibly attractive virtual stranger. It wasn’t like she had anything else better to do to pass the time while stuck in this gods-forsaken airport. She couldn’t deny he would still likely be her first choice, regardless.

Rowan’s quiet confidence seemed to slightly waver with her prolonged silence, as if he were second guessing his offer and assessment of where they stood with one another on the flirting spectrum.

Aelin mercifully put a stop to his internal backtracking and offered her hand, accepting his invitation. The brilliant smile she received in response warmed through her as she allowed Rowan to pull her to her feet.

~

Aelin: I’m having drinks with him at the bar.. 🙈

Lysandra: OMG! I demand every single detail as soon as you land!!!

Lysandra: and BE SAFE. 

Aelin: I will, promise 😘

Aelin smiled softly to herself as she returned her phone to an inner pocket of her work bag. Rowan sidled up to their shared high-top table and placed a second glass of red in front of her. She murmured a thank you before taking a long sip.

Rowan gave a nod as he settled on the stool across from her, a whiskey neat cradled between his large hands. Large, tan hands that she wondered how would feel exploring her body…

Aelin tightly squeezed her thighs together to stave off the growing ache between her legs. But the teasing pressure only stoked the flames licking to life beneath her skin. The warm buzz of the wine also wasn’t helping matters, nor was her current 9 month stint of celibacy since her breakup with Chaol.

“So,” he drawled before taking a dreg from his whiskey glass. “Are you ever going to share why you were snapping pictures earlier?”

Aelin slumped in her stool with an abashed groan, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“That was not my finest moment.” She risked a peek at him; open, gentle amusement shone back. “I’m sorry for that by the way.” 

“I’m not.” Rowan said matter-of-fact. “It gave me the excuse I was desperate for to approach you.” 

Aelin’s heart stuttered. 

“I also hoped it meant that I’d maybe caught your eye, too,” he admitted softly. 

She sat frozen for a moment, stunned by his revelation. Then wordlessly emptied the last remnants of her wine glass before sliding off the stool. It took all of two steps before she found herself well in Rowan’s space. Crisp snow and pine mixed with spicy undertones of a cologne filled her lungs. The heat emanating from his body made her head spin.

Her fingertips brushed featherlight alongside the edge of his strong jaw, savoring the nip of his stubble. Gently, Aelin turned his face towards hers and leaned in close. Rowan met her halfway, his breath soft against her lips as they both hesitated for a moment, then closed the remaining space between them.

The kiss was gentle, exploratory. Rowan tasted like the whiskey he was drinking, and she wanted to drink every bit of him down. Aelin gripped his shirt to pull him closer. The heat of his skin burned through her when he cupped her face, thumb smoothing over her cheekbone. 

Rowan tilted her head back further for better access, tongue dancing across the seam of her lips. Aelin moaned softly, immediately opening her mouth to him. Rowan’s free hand had traveled to the swell of her hip and flexed tightly in response. Holding steady, keeping her close.

A pointed throat clearing cut through their reverie.

Her eyes cut over to the lonely looking patron two tables over who was going to great efforts to not stare at them. Her focus slid back to glinting pine-green eyes, and she clamped her lips shut to suppress the bubbling laugh—at this ridiculously crazy situation and the dazed look that overtook Rowan’s features. 

“There’s a single unit restroom down that corridor,” she murmured with a slight incline of her head in the direction behind him, eyes smoldering as they peered up through thick lashes. “Meet me there in 5?”

“Yes.” His vehemence crackled through her veins. 

The corner of Aelin’s mouth tugged upwards, and she extracted herself from his grasp. Wordlessly grabbing her work bag, she slipped past him in the direction of the restroom.  

Aelin’s heart pounded rapidly in her ears, blood roaring with anticipation as the door snicked close behind her. Shaky fingers hung her bag on a courtesy hook before she turned to face the mirror. 

Fiery blue eyes reflected back, bright and wild. Her cheeks, neck, and chest flushed with a healthy mix of arousal and adrenalin. She was really going to do this—fuck a stranger in an airport bathroom. Heat shot down her spine and pooled between her legs with the thought. 

Mind so addled with lust and need, it was difficult to find reason not to do it. Her body burned with want for Rowan—very well might die from it without proper release.

Aelin leaned her palms against the sink counter and loosed a jagged breath. Breathe.

A soft knock echoed in the small space and she belatedly realized she hadn’t locked the door. Relief flooded over her as silver tendrils came into view, followed by the rest of him. 

Anticipation twisted in her gut as Rowan clicked the deadbolt into place and turned to her. She swore the temperature of the room steadily rose when their eyes locked in the mirror. 

Rowan dropped his bag to the floor and sidled up behind Aelin, his body heat and scent enveloping her. She bit back a moan, leaning into him. 

He brushed thick golden tresses over to one shoulder, then pressed a kiss behind the shell of her ear, warm breath ticking. Aelin shivered. Rowan trailed open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her throat. Tipping her head to the side, she offered him more skin to claim.

“I’ve–I’ve never… done–” a sharp hiss turned moan interrupted her thoughts as teeth bit the sensitive flesh between her shoulder and neck before licking the hurt away.

“Never,” he rasped in agreement.

Rowan fingered the hem of her cropped sweatshirt before Aelin yanked it over her head without hesitation. His eyes grew impossibly darker, nostrils softly flaring at the sight of her pert rosy nipples through the sheer lace bralette.

Rowan snaked an arm across her chest, brushing a peaked nipple with his thumb and affectionately squeezing her breast. The other firmly held her hips against his, grinding against her backside.

“Never,” he repeated. “But you’re so fucking perfect, Aelin. I can’t help myself.”

Her name on his tongue was going to be her undoing. 

The incessant press of his stiff erection at the seam of her ass had her eyes nearly rolling in the back of her head. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, more, more. 

His arms tightened as she attempted to turn, holding her in place to face the mirror. 

“Rowan,” she ground out in frustration. 

Rowan tutted at her, wrapping his left hand around her throat to apply light pressure while the right wandered down the flat plane of her stomach. “Patience, sweetheart.” His fingers inched closer, barely dipping below the waistline of her pants, taunting.

The tension tightly coiling low in her gut was unbearable. Aelin gripped the wrist of his teasing hand, nails biting into tan skin. Her hips instinctively rolled, seeking his touch, but he didn’t budge. 

“Please,” she whimpered, and he nibbled at her earlobe in response. Gods, she was going to lose her ever-loving mind. “Rowan, please please touch me.”

His fingers tightened the slightest bit around her throat. Piercing green pinned her in place through the mirror’s reflection, his smile purely predatory. “Now how can I resist such pretty begging?”

Aelin swallowed thickly, eyes following the descent of his hand. 

Her nerve endings exploded when he finally, finally touched where she ached for him most. Utterly helpless to the groan that tore from her throat. 

Rowan’s fingers moved in tight lazy circles over the bundle of nerves. His other hand slid from her neck to the curve of her jaw, gently turning Aelin’s head to the side.

“Shhh,” he soothed against her lips. “I want nothing more–gods,” Rowan sputtered, fingers dipping to her center, coating them in her dripping arousal. “–than to hear you scream yourself hoarse on my fingers, on my cock.”

Aelin loosed a shuddering breath as said cock twitched against her ass. 

Rowan’s slick fingers slid back to her clit and her whole body tensed. He nipped at her bottom lip, “But I need you to keep quiet this time. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, dazed.

“Good girl,” he crooned before kissing her deeply, thoroughly.

Aelin lost herself to the slide of his mouth against hers and the press of his touch at her sex. His hand dropped from her face to her breast, pinching one of her stiff nipples, sending a shock of pleasure through her. Then, without warning, Rowan pushed a finger into her heat, then added a second one. 

After a few pumps, he eased in a third digit. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” His voice was sinful. “Have to make sure you’re nice ‘n ready for me.”

He greedily swallowed down her moans. Pumping slowly in and out of her, her walls stretching to accommodate.

Their kiss broke on a gasp that stole the breath from her lungs as Rowan curled his fingers to rub that spot along her inner walls. Her body clenching around his thick digits and toes curling in her shoes.

Rowan chuckled lowly. “Ohh, right there?” She nodded mutely. 

He pressed a kiss to throat. “Use your words, Aelin.”

“Yes,” she groaned, hips undulating in time with his thrusts. “Gods, yes. Right there—nnh, fuck.” 

The blatant neediness in her voice should’ve been embarrassing, but she was half out of her mind to care.

Rowan rewarded her with the firm press of his thumb to her clit, his fingers continually pumping into her. “Such a good fucking girl for me."

Aelin’s body trembled with the building pressure, overwhelmed with the effect of his words and touches. Surely she would combust any second and the wildfire roaring beneath her skin would consume her whole.

Rowan sunk his teeth into her pulse point and her body arched, pleasure rocketing through her. The impossibly wound coil deep in her gut finally snapping. Aelin nearly sobbed from relief, sagging against the strong arm across her chest.

Rowan’s hand lazily coaxed the last remnants of pleasure from her as she finished riding the wave of her orgasm. Their heavy breaths and his fingers gently pushing through the slick between her thighs the only sounds filling the space.

Not until he ensured she was fully sated did he pull away from her heat, dragging his fingers up the center of her body to leave a glistening trail in their wake. Aelin swallowed thickly as he brought those fingers to his lips to lick them clean. Humming like she was the sweetest thing he’s had the pleasure of tasting.

Aelin turned on shaky legs and hastily dragged his face to hers, lips colliding in a soul searing kiss. Rowan lifted and sat her on the bathroom counter without severing contact. Large hands tangled in her hair, tipping her head back to open her up further. Aelin hummed against the brush of his tongue.

Hands tugged impatiently at his shirt as she mumbled “off” against his lips. Rowan chuckled but obliged nonetheless. 

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as her eyes unabashedly devoured the muscled expanse of his heaving chest. The inked sleeve on his left arm indeed connected seamlessly to the whirling designs spanning across his left pec, licking up the base of his neck. She swallowed an appreciative groan.

“Gods, it’s unfair how fucking hot you are.” Aelin lightly scraped her nails over the ridges of his abdominal muscles.

“You’re one to talk.”

She smirked, but didn’t respond.

Her focus was instead drawn to the impressive bulge straining painfully against the zip of his jeans. Rowan grunted when she palmed him through the material. Then so slowly popped the button open and dragged the zipper down. Aelin worked the jeans and boxer briefs over his hips until his erection was freed and bobbing just below his navel.

Her eyes widened.

By the wryd, he was massive. No wonder he took such care in working her with his fingers first. 

The smug grin was wiped clean from his face when she wrapped a hand around him. His head fell against her shoulder, releasing a jagged breath as she methodically worked her hand up and down his length. 

Rowan mindlessly thrusted into her hand with soft groans. His full body shuddered when she squeezed the head of his cock and pressed her thumb to the weeping slit.

He bit out a curse, firmly gripping her wrist. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

“Isn’t that the point?” She asked sweetly.

Rowan dragged his thumb across her lip. “You’re such a wicked thing.”

She hummed then wriggled her hips in silent command. Rowan didn’t need further elaboration, hooking his large hands in the band of her underwear and pants, slowly peeling them down her toned legs, also discarding her shoes in the process. At his gentle prod she spread her thighs, exposing herself fully to him.

The debauched groan that ripped deep from within his chest shot straight to her core. Pine-green eyes glazed as they settled on her glistening sex.

“Rowan,” she whispered. “Please.”

Her words snapped him into action. Gripping the base of his cock, he notched the swollen head against her entrance.

His body went rigid. “Fuck.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Trying to keep panic from edging in her voice. 

“I don’t have a condom.” Rowan looked physically pained, tone forlorn.  

Oh.

“Fuck, Aelin, I’m sorry.” He bowed to rest his forehead against hers. She tried very hard to block out the feel of him nudging against her folds with the movement. “I didn’t expect—hadn’t plann–”

Aelin silenced him with a kiss, slow and gentle. Her fingers delicately twined with the silvery strands at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck me, Rowan.” His cock twitched against her thigh. 

He traced his thumb across her collarbone. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yes,” he answered—to both questions. She nodded with understanding.

She stroked his length, then realigned him with her entrance. 

“Then fuck me.”

So he did, pushing into her with a powerful thrust. Rowan slotted his mouth over Aelin’s to muffle her cries. Her toes curled tightly at the backs of his thighs, struggling to find any space within her for breath. Rowan panted, giving her time to adjust. Strong muscles shaking with barely controlled restraint.

After a moment, hips rolled against his in silent command. And Rowan obliged, pulling out to the tip before snapping into her heat again. Over and over.

Aelin’s head dropped back on a strangled moan as her nails dug into his flesh, seeking purchase anywhere.

“You take my cock so well, Aelin,” he bit out. “So fucking good for me.”

Rowan groaned as she clenched around him. Never in her life had she been so gods-damned aroused. She was going to come from his words alone, taking her apart piece by piece.

“Please, please, Rowan.”

His hand slipped between their sweaty bodies and drew pants from her pretty mouth that grew breathier and higher with each passing stroke. Until finally a wave of pleasure crested over her and she shattered around him.

Rowan nearly choked as her core contracted tightly around him. He buried a hand in her hair and brought her mouth to his in a rough kiss, the pace of his thrusts growing erratic. Then he was groaning loudly against her lips, finally meeting his release deep within her.

Aelin gently scraped her nails against his scalp and hummed into his mouth as his hips rocked slowly into hers, milking the last of their shared pleasure.

They stayed like that for long moments, Rowan still buried inside her and their lips exploring languidly. Separating only once a shiver ran through her body, the sweat gathered in the dip of her lower back cooling.

Rowan murmured against her skin through a smile, “Let's get you dressed.”

Aelin made a noise of protest as he pulled out of her, but allowed him to gently wipe her clean before helping her back into her clothes. Once fully dressed and steadied on her feet, Rowan tilted her chin with a tenderness that made her heart ache and gave her a lingering kiss.

“When we get back to Orynth, let me take you to dinner.”

With a little shrug, Aelin gave him a simpering smile. “It’s the very least you could do.” 

Rowan snorted, despite the bright grin splitting his face. Then shook his head with quiet amusement, “So wicked.”

~

Aelin finally settled into her seat on the plane. 

A smile seemed to permanently occupy her lips since she and Rowan slipped from the bathroom earlier. 

Rowan. Gods, what an unexpected surprise he turned out to be. 

Aelin slipped her phone from her pocket, preparing to switch it to Airplane Mode. Just as she swiped away the lock screen, a text notification scrolled across the top from her newest added contact. Biting her lip, Aelin tapped on the notification to open up the new iMessage thread.

Rowan: See you soon, sweetheart.

Warmth flooded her chest. Before she could type a response, her phone vibrated again with an additional incoming text and an image.

Rowan: ps. you can’t blame this poor male for admiring your exquisite form either. 😉

Aelin’s head jerked up to stare at the mop of silver hair seated several rows ahead of her, mouth agape for several seconds. Her lips twitched into a smirk, snorting in disbelief as her eyes fell back to the image on her phone. 

An image of her from hours ago, stretching out in her seat with a hand running through her hair. Frankly, it was a good candid putting the lines of her body on display in the best way.

The stewardess’ voice crackled through the overhead speaker, directing passengers to please secure their seatbelts, close their dropdown trays, and switch all electronics to airplane mode.

Aelin fired a quick response back before toggling on Airplane Mode: Sneaky bastard!

--

Masterlist

[eldritchsurveys]

1217.

by joybucket

1. What is the hardest part of your life right now, and what is the easiest? >> The hardest part is a tossup. The more practical concern is being consistently financially insecure but in that weird working-class way as opposed to just being straight-up destitute like I'm used to being. It's weird to me because when a person in your household works between 35 and 40 hours a week for what seems like a decent wage, you'd think you'd be able to live off that. At least when I was destitute, I just... didn't have money. It's a very straightforward state of existence, even if it sucks major ass. And frankly, I still don't have money, I am still destitute, I'm just married now so their income is also my income in that strange way that legally-sanctioned relationships work. I don't know. Money is just such a fucking weird concept to me, no matter how you slice it. The point is, they -- we, whatever -- technically do not make enough money for us to support our current expenses on, but we have no choice but to limp along for now and hope nothing goes any wronger.

The other hardest part is my mental and emotional health and how relational trauma affects that every single day of my life. I know I need support, I know social isolation is killing me, but there's nothing to be done for it. It's entirely inaccessible to me. I am at a loss for how to get my needs met, so they just... fester inside me. My self-development has progressed but it is now arrested. What other people have broken in me requires the intervention of other people to be healed. That's just the way it is.

The easiest parts of my life are.... hmm. Well, again, I'm not destitute. I'm housed. Insecurely, but housed. That's still way more than I'd had for my entire adult life before now. *reads the next question* Oh, and my body is relatively healthy. That's nothing to scoff at.

2. If you are struggling with chronic illness right now, what are five of your worst symptoms? .

3. What is your favorite social media platform at the moment? >> Tumblr. Although the "social" aspect is a little lacking in my corner of the site, for some reason. I must be the only person who thinks I'm fun to talk to. :p 4. Do you have trouble forgiving people who hurt you? >> I don't have trouble with it. I have zero interest in forgiving people for hurting me. What for? What I want to do is find a way to live with the wounds they caused, to treat them like injuries that will always flare up when the [emotional] weather is inclement, to care for myself during those flare-ups, to not let anyone else reopen those wounds but to also figure out how to find and let in the people who would respect and honour the existence of those wounds. That's a lot to do, I don't have time or energy for some nebulous "forgiveness" business.

5. What do you do when you really want a certain person to care about you, but they just don't? >> Accepting that most people simply cannot love me the way I most want to be loved -- and that is not a fault of theirs or mine -- is a struggle, but I'm working on it. I'm getting a lot of practice in that area, after all. Also, I'm pretty sure I can't love most people in the way they most want to be loved, either. Or at all, lmao. Kind of handicapped in that department, frankly, but hope springs eternal or some shit.

6. Are you living your life to the fullest right now? >> I am living my life. Period. I'm not making some kind of fucking contest out of it, I'm just trying to suffer a little less.

7. What was the last thing you did that you regret? >> Uh... hm. I don't remember. 8. What is the best part of your life right now? >> This feels similar enough to the first question that I don't have a different answer.

9.....and what is the worst ? >> ^

10. What is something that is hard for most people but is easy for you? >> I know a lot of people struggle with, like, asserting themselves or going against the grain, that sort of thing, and that's never really been a challenge for me. I'm just kind of hardheaded that way, I'm gonna do what I want to do and there's no other option.

11. What is something that is easy for most people but is hard for you? >> Like, everything else, lmao. You name it, I've probably struggled with it.

12. What is your favorite color, and do you own a lot of things in that color? >> Yellow. I don't.

13. If you have a chronic illness, what are three things you used to enjoy doing that your illness prevents you from doing now? .

14. How has your heart been lately? >> I don't know, I always think it's struggling but that might just be anxiety. I've never had heart problems before, but the possibility of developing them increases with every passing birthday, so...

15. List three things you have survived. >> Chronic homelessness, years of familial abuse, the Person of Interest finale but BARELY. Man, that shit hurted.

16. What song would you say describes your life at the moment? >> I wouldn't say any song describes my life at the moment. 17....and why is that? >> Because life is a complex and multifaceted thing and any given song is essentially focused on one element of experience, not many. If I was going to describe my life with music, I'd have to make a playlist.

18. Do you spend more time on Facebook or Instagram? >> I don't spend any time on Instagram, at all, but I do check Facebook every morning. It usually takes me, like, 20 seconds. Ain't shit on there.

19. If you could say anything to anyone right now, what would it be? .

20. When was the last time you had someone pray with you? .

21. What is something that has recently made you laugh out loud? >> I can't think of anything right now.

22. List five of your favorite female singers. >> Floor Jansen (After Forever), Mlny Parsons (Royal Thunder), Skin (Skunk Anansie), Cristina Scabbia (Lacuna Coil), I... don't think I have a fifth. There are plenty of other female singers I listen to and enjoy, but their vocals don't hit me the same way the aforementioned do. 23. What flavor was the last popsicle you ate? >> Red. I don't know what the actual flavour is supposed to be, cherry or something I guess.

24. When was the last time you got ice cream from an ice cream truck? >> I have never done this.

25. Do you celebrate the 4th of July, and if so, how did you celebrate it this year? >> Oh, you mean Sensory Overload Hell Weekend? Absolutely fucking not. Also, you think I care about celebrating this shit ass country? I have to live here, that's bad enough, you can't make me pretend to like it too. 26. Who was the last of your friends to have a baby? .

27. What are five of your favorite baby girl names your friends have used? .

28. What are five of your favorite baby boy names your friends have used? >> I'm bemused by the implication that I have enough friends with children to have ten different answers for these questions.

29. Have you ever been pregnant? >> Briefly. Very briefly.

30. Do you currently care about someone who cares nothing for you? >> I don't think this is even possible for me to experience. Thank god. I have enough problems in this department.

31. What color was the last pair of flip-flops you wore? .

32. Are you happy at the moment? Why or why not? >> I mean, sure. Why not.

33. Are you happy with your life overall at the present time? Why or why not? >> Eh.

34. If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be? >> Well, there'd be way more money. Also, maybe some social connections.

35.....and what is one thing about your life you hope will never change? >> I hope the Configuration never stops existing -- or, rather, I hope that my/our connection to it is never severed.

[your-divine-ribs]

No Nut November Part 2

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT! Van asks you to sit on his face. No plot whatsoever, just porn - I’m going to hell for writing this story it’s so dirty I’m sorry ha ha 🫣😂

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

Read Part 1

November starts off cold and wintry with fat, heavy raindrops lashing against Van's window and the wind whistling dramatically, awakening you from your sleep. Or maybe it's not the inclement weather that's disturbed your slumber, but something else.

You'd fallen asleep with Van's arm draped over your waist and you're surprised that it's still there. He's normally a restless sleeper, changing up his sleeping position frequently in the night. You'll often wake with him halfway down the bed, his body twisted at a bizarre angle, but the fact that he's snuggled in so close to you, head nuzzled into the back of your neck, body pressed up against you, tells you that he's already awake. That, and the sensation of something rock-hard digging into your ass.

"You awake?" You mumble groggily.

"Nuh-uh," comes the reply, and you feel him inch even closer, his fingers slipping under the cami top of your pyjamas, lightly brushing your skin.

"Liar," you giggle, wriggling a little at the ticklish sensation. This is how it usually starts. Tentative touches, featherlight fingertips tracing patterns on your skin, shivering you through with goosebumps. Next it'll be whispered words in your ear, the warmth of his breath on your neck, soft kisses scattered lazily across any available expanse of bare skin. Sometimes you'll feign resistance just to prolong his sweet advances. Sometimes you'll give in straight away, turning around in his arms and crashing your lips into his.

But today is different altogether. It's November after all.

"Mmm... babe..." he murmurs, his lips connecting with your bare shoulder, his hand gently caressing the soft skin of your belly.

"Ye-es?"

You draw out the word, smiling to yourself as you feel him pushing his hips gently against you. Another kiss is pressed to your shoulder.

"I had this amazing dream last night..."

You can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks.

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

"Well... you were in it. And you were bloody insatiable. It was like you were sex-crazed! You couldn't keep your hands off me. You were ripping my clothes off and everything!"

You laugh. "Sounds like a nightmare!"

"Fuck was it... it was the best dream I've ever had. Reckon it's because of our hook up in the pub toilets. Ya know it was dead sexy when ya took control like that."

You push your bum back into Van's hips, hear him sigh in appreciation. You probably shouldn't be teasing him but you can't resist it. It's only day one of course so he should be absolutely fine. He's only got another twenty-nine to go after he's made it through this one.

"Oh, you liked it did you?"

"I loved it, I wish you did it more." Then he adds quickly "I mean I'm not complaining about how we usually do it. It was just hot... really hot."

His voice is low and throaty and he plants another kiss on your shoulder, wetter and more lingering this time, his lips dragging over your skin. You can still feel his rock-hard cock pressing into your bum and his hips move again, subtly grinding into you.

You remember Van once telling you that there was a reason for his usual early morning horniness, something about hormone surges on waking. You'd just laughed and joked and asked him when he wasn't in the mood. Again you wonder how he ever thought he'd be able to last for a whole month without blowing his load.

"Does it turn you on then?" You ask, feeling the glow of your own arousal start to bloom at the feel of his warm body pressed up against yours just so.

"Mmm... yeah," he sighs, his hands moving upwards over your ribs, fingertips just brushing the underside of your breasts. "I'm turned on now just thinking about it... massively."

You bite back another giggle. "I did kinda notice. Got woken up by your massive boner digging into my ass, didn't I?"

"Can't help it after that dream. Can't get it out of my head now. Maybe we could like act it out or something? I'll let ya do whatever ya want to me?”

His voice raises up hopefully at the end like he thinks his sordid offer will be enough to make you give in to his advances, and to be honest it usually would be, but you marvel at the fact that he might have already forgotten the challenge he eagerly accepted just the night before.

You roll over on to your back and then keep going until your body's angled towards him, propping yourself up on an elbow so you can look down on him, smirking to yourself at the prominent bulge straining against his boxers.

"You forgetting something Van?"

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly, placing a palm flat against his chest, feeling the steady pounding of his heart. He looks gorgeous anytime, but you can't help but think how irresistible he looks right now, his sleep-tousled mousy brown hair splayed out on the pillow, his full pink lips moistened as he licks at them with a thoughtful expression.

"What... it's not like an important day or something is it and I've gone and forgotten?"

He looks mildly panicked for a second and you frown at him. "How drunk were you last night?"

This just makes his puzzlement grow. "I wasn't that bad, I mean yeah, I'd had a few... more than a few, we both had... but I remember everything perfectly. Not gonna forget last night in a hurry though am I love?"

His lips pull into a grin as he trails his fingers over the waistband of your pyjama shirts, dipping lightly inside. You reciprocate by sliding your own hand down over his chest, then his ribs and the small swell of his tummy, stopping at the elastic of his boxers, tugging it with your fingers.

"I'm not talking about the sex, I'm talking about the... errr... agreement we made. You're not telling me you've forgotten about it already are you?"

Now he looks really confused, his brow furrowing into a comical expression.

"Jeez Van... talk about short term memory loss... or maybe it's just selective."

"I don't know what..." he begins but then he stops, abruptly, realisation dawning on him as the memory comes trickling back to him. His fingers instantly still their sensual dance on your hips.

"Oh god... I've remembered now... that bloody no nut thing. Seriously? We're really gonna do this?"

"Well..."

You smile mischievously, letting the elastic waistband of his boxers snap back lightly against his skin, running your tongue over your teeth before you catch your bottom lip, playfully seductive.

"I mean you did accept the challenge last night, but if you don't think that you're up to it..." you pause, your eyes flicking down to his obvious erection. "Umm maybe that's the wrong choice of words..."

Van looks conflicted, his competitive steak battling with his libido which just happens to be in overdrive this morning after his smutty dream.

"Ahh fuck.... what ya trying to do to me, huh? Ya trying to kill me, I swear!"

You ignore this, your hand that was toying with his underwear moving towards your own midriff, peeling the top of your pyjama shorts down to show the pink lace of your panties, tucking the tips of your fingers under the waistband, looking him right in the eye as you speak. "Of course it's only you that this applies to if you accept the challenge. I can still come... as many times as I like."

Van's brows furrow into a little peak as his mouth falls agape, his eyes pooling with desire. "You drive me crazy, ya know that? How the hell am I gonna manage the whole month with you teasing me like this?"

Your hand begins a steady descent towards your aching heat, pulsing now at the thought of a sexually frustrated Van watching you get yourself off. You'd always been so eager to give him pleasure before, hearing his needy groans and watching his face contort as he lost control, but somehow the idea of denying him that pleasure is just as much of a turn on. Especially if you get to hear him beg.

"Come on... you're not gonna fail on day one are you? I mean, I knew you'd find it tough but seriously?"

"But you're not playing fair babe," he complains, his voice tight. He can't keep his eyes off you as he watches the tell-tale movements of your hand beneath the cover of your shorts, and when a small moan slips past your lips his eyes darken all the more. "Aren't I even allowed to touch you?"

"I don't think you've been good enough," you say, dipping a fingertip inside yourself, gathering some moisture which you spread upwards over your clit, sighing deeply.

"At least let me watch," he whines, tugging at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down, your panties slipping down at the same time as they slide down your hips. You let them go, shifting on the bed to assist him, kicking them down your legs and off as Van watches on.

"Remember no touching, yeah?" You smirk, pushing your hips forwards and spreading your legs to give him a better view as your fingertip slides over your folds, dipping again into the warm wetness between your thighs.

Van doesn't answer straight away and you see his hands stiffen as they rake at his thighs as he struggles to fight his urges.

"Fucks sake..." he groans, one of his hands wandering upwards, brushing against the bulge in his underwear, making himself shudder.

"I said no touching, okay?" You repeat, more sternly this time, and he mutters out an agreement. He looks desperate as he watches you pleasuring yourself, his eyes hooded and clouded with lust. You can tell he wants to reach out and touch you, or touch himself… but he can't do either. He's being good... obedient. This thought just makes you even hotter, wondering how far you can push him. His begging words and pleading tone from the previous night echo through your mind, arousing you even more.

"Oh god... that feels so good," you murmur, your words merging into a moan to demonstrate to Van exactly how good it feels as you plunge a finger into your soaking core, feeling your slickness coating it as you slide it in further and then add another finger, beginning to pump them in and out at a slow pace.

It feels amazing, but as pleasurable as it is, it's nothing like when Van touches you. You gaze longingly at his hands which are now clenching into fists and then flexing open as he fights to control himself. His fingers are so long and skilful and he knows your body so well that he can usually bring you to the peak of climaxing within minutes.

"Wanna touch you so bad," he whines. "Or myself. Not sure if I can take this."

You ignore him, increasing your efforts, your fingers sliding over your drenched flesh, the other hand rising up to push up your top, pinching and tugging at your stiffened nipples. You're so close.

"Think I'm gonna come soon," you moan breathily, arching your back as you start to feel small swells of pleasure radiating from deep down, your breathing getting ragged and urgent now.

Van looks the picture of desperation, his eyes darting about wildly, flicking between your face to your breasts to between your legs on a continuous cycle, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gets more and more turned on. Seeing him yearning for you like this is a dream, you feel powerful and in control and your mind starts to wander, imagining how you might punish him if he gives in... no... when he gives in. There's absolutely no way he's going to manage to last all month. You just know it.

"But I wanna make you come," he suddenly blurts, his voice choked and hoarse, thick with desire. "Please Y/N. Even if I can't come at least let me touch you. I really wanna touch you, wanna kiss every inch of you. Wanna taste that sweet pussy of yours."

Fuck...

His filthy words travel straight down to your core, fanning the flames that are already burning brightly, your resistance wavering at his pleas.

"Please baby... please..."

And then before you can react he's reaching for your hand, pulling it upwards to his parted lips, his tongue flicking out to taste you, sighing a passionate appreciation as he licks your juices clean off your fingers. You're so turned on you could practically come from just watching him, your heat throbbing for a release after your attentions.

"Fucking hell Van," you murmur, your whole body feeling hot, your cheeks glowing as he looks at you with desperate, pleading eyes.

"Wanna go down on you... please. Or even better... sit on my face. Fuck... I want you to do it so bad. I've been dreaming about it for ages. Just 'cause I can't come doesn't mean I can't get you off does it?"

His voice rises up, high and tight, and your breath catches in your throat, your heart jumping like you've just been shocked. It's not that you're shy or a prude. Van knows every inch of your body intimately, and you think he'd probably spend hours nuzzling between your thighs if given half the chance, but there's something about his request that makes you hesitate. The act just seems so brazen, so much more intimate. You'd be completely exposed to him in a way that makes your heart pound and your cheeks flush an even deeper shade of scarlet. But you'd be completely in control and the thought thrills you, imagining him lying beneath you whilst you use him entirely for your own pleasure.

"I want to... it's just..."

You pause, mind scrambling, not being able to think straight as Van tugs at your top, pulling it up over your head as you raise your arms up to allow him.

"Just... what...?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. You can taste the slight tang of your arousal on him and it ignites your passion even more and you hook a leg eagerly over his waist, grinding yourself against him. You feel a slight wetness on his boxers and you're not sure if it's from you or if he's so turned on he's leaking pre-cum already.

"Fuck babe... you can't do that," he croaks out in a strangled whisper as he pulls away. "That's not bloody fair. Come on, climb up. Let me take care of you. You trust me right?"

"Of course I do," you reply. "It's just that what if... what if..." you hesitate, giggling as you know the words are ridiculous before they've even left your mouth. "What if I... suffocate you?"

Now it's Van's turn to laugh, and the sound is low and deep, rumbling in his chest. "Course you're not gonna suffocate me love... and if ya do... well I can think of worse ways to go!"

You both laugh then, but Van's laugh dies away quickly, his eagerness to taste you taking over, pushing himself back and away from you, taking his position flat on his back a short distance from the headboard. He beckons with his hands and an earnest look in his eyes, full of heat and lust. You glance down at his plush pink lips as he licks at them, filthy images running through your head about how they'll make you feel. You know then that you can't wait any longer.

You pull yourself up to a sitting, then a kneeling position, fingers grasping the headboard. Your cheeks are aflame, but it's not the only part of you. You're positive you'll actually burst into flames the way that Van's looking at you, his eyes fixed firmly on your already glistening pussy as you tentatively raise up a leg to move across him, straddling his shoulders and resting yourself on his chest. You're self-conscious as you feel your wetness connect with his bare skin, but the friction makes you groan nevertheless.

You look down on him lying there, so eager to please, and your eyes meet briefly before they flick away, back to your heat. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips again and you feel excitement lurch in your belly at the anticipation.

"Come on," he urges, fingers curling keenly around your thighs, trying to lever you forward. "You look so good like this. Wanna fuck you with my tongue."

You lift yourself up, meaning to manoeuvre yourself into place, but you don't get chance. Van's grip on your thighs tightens, clamping on with force, pulling you down towards him, his breath fanning hot on your thighs.

"Van!" You gasp out loud, resisting for all of about two seconds before you let yourself sink lower. You don't have much choice in the matter anyway, he's much too strong, but in any case as you feel his lips connect with the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing warm, wet open-mouthed kisses there you're a lost cause.

You screw your eyes shut, feeling the sensation of his tongue as he licks a long, thick stripe right up your centre and you can't hold back the loud groan that erupts from you. Your eyes flick open to look down on him where you find his eyes on yours, looking right back as he sets to work, tongue flicking over your clit, laving at it like you're the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. A moan of pleasure and appreciation falls from him, sending vibrations right through your core. You almost come undone there and then from his unwavering eye contact which just heightens everything, your body flooding with heat.

"Fucking hell," you breathe, feeling his grip tighten vice-like on your thighs, dragging your hips down even further. You hadn't realised that you were holding back, your body taut, bracing your legs to allow him some space, but it soon becomes clear that he doesn't need or want that space. He wants you closer, as close and you can be. He wants the sensation of your slick core on his face, quite literally smothering him, and who are you to deny him... especially when it feels so good.

"Relax babe," he splutters out, pulling away momentarily. "Let me take care of ya."

So you do.

And then it's not just his tongue, but his lips too, even his nose rubs deliciously against your clit as he licks and sucks at every part of you, impassioned moans emitting from him as he works you over. It's quite possibly the most heavenly sensation you've ever experienced, and you feel your self-consciousness dissipate like your soul leaving your body, evaporating away, leaving nothing but your want and your need, and your desperate desire to get yourself off. You press your hips forward, eager for more, grinding against his face.

His fingers are digging deep furrows into the flesh of your thighs, holding you steady. It's like he can't get enough of you, like he means to drown in you. The sights, the sounds and the heady scent of you overwhelming him, intoxicating him as he delves his tongue inside you, lapping up your juices.

You gasp his name again, feeling the coil in your gut winding tight, threatening to snap. His tongue drags over every fold and dip, exploring you fervently. You're so wet now from your arousal and his saliva that you can hear the lewd noises his mouth makes on you, wet, smacking noises that mix with your urgent whimpers and his groans, a symphony of sound that drives you into a frenzy. You push your hips back and forth to increase the blissful friction, and you dimly wonder how you ever felt self-conscious.

"Oh god!" You almost howl as his tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive part, and he hones in on your pleasure, pursing his lips around your bud and sucking until you're almost seeing stars. Every little movement he makes feels more intense in this position, increased by the undulation of your own hips, giving you the control to guide the bliss flowing through you.

"I’m so close!" You gasp out, feeling your body tighten, every single fibre of you screaming out for your release.

You feel Van shift beneath you, his fingers flexing on your thighs, and you ease up your pressure, rising up slightly to look down on him as he breaks away briefly. He looks an absolute vision lying there, smile stretched wide across his lips which are glossy from your arousal, as is his nose and chin, in fact every part of his face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes darkened with a glaze of lust and desire. He's panting slightly.

"Are you okay?" You ask, suddenly aware how unequal all of this is, trying to imagine how turned on he must be and for once you have no intention of returning the favour, a dark part of you actually enjoying this notion.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, like he's in some kind of trance, looking up at you with awe. "Want you to come all over my face Y/N. C’mon… I wanna taste ya so bad.”

And even as the words leave his lips, he's pulling you down again in a sharp movement which catches you by surprise, almost making you lose your balance as your slick heat presses against him once more. This time you chase your high, bucking against him at exactly the right spot, using him like he wants to be used, each thrust of your hips bringing you closer to your peak.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK!" You hiss out, the coil in your gut finally snapping, a blissful wave of euphoria washing over you, your legs trembling and your whole frame shaking. One hand drops down to his hair where you grab a fistful, tugging it harshly at the roots, the other gripping the headboard so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

You can feel your thighs tensing involuntarily as they squeeze around Van's head as you ride out the high of one of the most intense orgasms you've ever experienced. It takes you a while to come back down to earth, finally falling to the side in a heap on the mattress as you do, your legs reduced to jelly. Van lies next to you, panting to catch his breath, blissful grin stretched ear to ear like it does when he knows he's fully satisfied you and you almost feel sorry for him when you glance down to see the painfully hard erection tenting his boxers. Almost... but not quite.

"That was amazing love," he sighs. "Fucking 'ell though, I'm so turned on I almost came in my pants!"

Then he tips his body on to the side, propping himself up on an elbow, wiping your cum from his mouth on the back of his hand. "How was it for you?"

He beams at you and you grin back, still feeling that hazy post-orgasm bliss. "So good, I don't think I can even walk now. My legs have turned to mush!" You giggle, mirroring his position, reaching out a hand to drape it over his waist.

"You're fucking amazing you know," you purr. You lean your body into his, raising up your leg again to wrap over his hip. "I'm such a lucky girl."

You're aware that your body is connecting with Van in just the right place... or should that be the wrong place... but you're in the mood to tease, fully sated now as you are. Despite Van's earlier protestations about playing fair no ground rules were set last night, so as far as you're concerned it's fair game.

"Mmm... you are," he agrees, a shudder passing through him as you softly grind your core against his hard dick, your hard nipples pressing up against his bare chest. Then you see his features darken. "But you're also a very bad girl."

"Me?" Your voice is soft, the picture of innocence, pretending you're not aware of the effect that you're having on him.

"Yes... you," he almost groans, pushing your leg down, untangling himself from your arms with determination. "I know what you're trying to do and I'm not losing this challenge. I'm strong, I can do this. You just wait and see."

His tone is tenacious and you're quite surprised. You can see his pained expression as he tries unsuccessfully to adjust the bulge in his boxers, frowning at the damp patch which has definitely grown. He gets to his feet, still grimacing, forcing a challenging smile as he looks down on you lying there, naked and inviting.

"Where are you going?"

He huffs animatedly. "Bloody cold shower. What do you think?"

A loud laugh forces it way free and he smirks sarcastically at you before he turns to leave the room. "We'll see who's laughing shall we when I win this challenge and then I get to do anything that I like to you."

"Not happening Van," you shake your head even though he's walking away. "Not happening. Get ready for your punishment!”

"We'll see about that," is his reply.

"Yes we will," you smirk to yourself, wicked plans swirling through your head. "And no wanking when you're in there remember!"

Part 3

[syn4k]

i fucking love inclement weather i love storms

[sparkymalone]

Omg speaking of that, you should do a winter chapter where they warm eachother up 😏

(This ask came right after the two beds one, so I think that's what it's referencing?)

Man, I haven't seen this trope in AGES! I used to love this shit!

Y'all ready for some smut with a totally ridiculous premise?! Also that I haven't proofread?!

When the students of Class 77-B had arrived on a mysterious tropical island, none of them had expected a snowstorm. And why would they? The island was so beautiful and sunny when they arrived, there wasn't any reason to think about inclement weather, let alone snow.

So, when Usami mentioned that her magic stick was on the fritz, no one thought anything of it. She had mentioned using the stick to control the weather in passing, but none of the students were very concerned.

When rain clouds rolled in, no one was alarmed. Tropical storms were normal, after all. It was more strange that they hadn't gotten rain any sooner.

A few small rainstorms blew over the island, but then bigger, darker clouds appeared on the horizon. The weather got progressively cooler, until the island was officially freezing cold.

The students still didn't suspect anything. They figured it was just a storm, that it would pass.

Needless to say, the sudden blizzard caught them all by surprise. Most of the class had been out gathering resources at the time, and everyone quickly ducked into the building nearest to them.

Which is how Hajime and Fuyuhiko ended up trapped in the library as a snowstorm raged just outside.

“We could probably make a run for it,” Hajime suggested as they stared out the window, “if we go now.”

Fuyuhiko furrowed his brow, contemplating the wind and snow swirling outside. “Do we need to? We're safe in here, right?”

The other boy shrugged. “I think so.”

“Then let's just stay put,” Fuyuhiko decided. He turned to the rest of the room, putting his hands in his pockets. “There are worse places to kill time.”

And so the two of them attempted to wait out the storm. They spent some time chatting, reading, and pacing around the room. Eventually the cold began to get to them, so the two boys started searching for a thermostat. After several minutes of looking, however, it became clear that there wasn't one.

The library didn't have a heater.

“It's probably fine,” Hajime said, trying to stay positive. “The snow will probably stop soon, anyway.”

Several hours later, the blizzard was still raging and the library was getting unbearably cold.

Fuyuhiko was sitting on the floor with his back against a bookshelf and his knees pulled up to his chest. He was watching Hajime pace around, getting progressively more annoyed. “Will you fuckin' stop that?!” the blonde snapped, but it sounded strained through his chattering teeth.

“S-Sorry,” Hajime replied, rubbing his arms desperately. “It's just so damn cold.”

“I fuckin' know!” Fuyuhiko griped. “But you're pissin’ me off!”

“Moving around helps,” the taller boy insisted, still pacing.

More time passed, and the cold only got worse. Both boys were shivering, they could see their breath, and they were both getting desperate.

Hajime was huddled on the ground next to Fuyuhiko, trying desperately to think of something that could help them. He had found a book on survival and was quickly poring over the pages, looking for anything relevant. Finally, he jolted. “B-Body heat,” he stammered.

Fuyuhiko looked at him in confusion. His cheeks were alarmingly pale and his lips were starting to look a bit blue. “What the f-fuck are you t-talking about?”

The brunette pushed the book aside, not bothering to read the context of the survival method. He shuffled towards Fuyuhiko. “We have to share body heat.”

Some color returned to Fuyuhiko's face as he blushed. “W-What?!”

“‘S the only way,” Hajime told him, grasping the lapels of Fuyuhiko's jacket. “We can be embarrassed about it later.”

The smaller boy stared at him for a moment before nervously agreeing. “S-So what do we do? Just… c-cuddle or whatever?”

Hajime nodded. “Yeah. We put our bodies together to save warmth.”

Fuyuhiko shivered, but willingly started moving closer to Hajime.

“And we need to take our clothes off.”

The yakuza heir jerked back. “What?!”

Hajime was looking at him completely seriously. “We have to be skin-to-skin, then we can wrap our clothes around both of us.” Not waiting for a response, he began undressing.

Fuyuhiko stared at him, wide-eyed, frozen in place. Once the initial shock wore off, though, he realized that he didn't have any other options. Slowly, he began to disrobe, as well.

The taller boy tried not to stare as Fuyuhiko peeled his clothes off. He couldn't believe that this was happening, even though it had been his suggestion. He forced himself not to look at the other boy's naked body, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Cautiously, the two of them moved closer together, both avoiding eye contact. They tried huddling side by side, arms pressed against each other, but that didn't seem effective enough, even with their clothes pulled around them.

“I'm not trying to make this weird,” Hajime began hesitantly, “but this might work better if you… were in my lap.”

Fuyuhiko's eyes widened, but he didn't argue. At this point survival was more important than his own shame. He allowed himself to be pulled into Hajime's lap with his back against the other boy's chest, but he didn't like the way the cold air was hitting his chest. “...Might be better if I'm facing you,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

It was Hajime's turn to be shocked, but he agreed quietly. He helped Fuyuhiko turn around, but was somehow still caught off guard when the blonde straddled him. He tried not to think about just what body parts were touching him as the blonde pressed himself flush against him, resting his head on Hajime's shoulder.

“No one ever finds out about this, got that?” Fuyuhiko growled.

Hajime let out a surprised laugh. “Of course.” He carefully draped some of their clothes over their bodies before wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy.

They stayed like that for a while, and it seemed to be working. Both of them felt much warmer, basking in the heat of each other's skin. Unfortunately, body temperature wasn't the only thing rising.

Even under these terrible conditions, having an attractive boy in his lap - one whom he had been crushing on for weeks - was proving to be too much for Hajime. He tried to will his erection down, tried not to let it press against Fuyuhiko, tried not to think about what parts of Fuyuhiko's body it was pressing against. It was a losing battle, however, and his cock continued to swell.

Fuyuhiko's eyes widened again as he felt Hajime's erection beneath him. He didn't move for a moment, unsure of what to do. “H-Hajime,” he murmured.

Hajime squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry,” he gasped, mortified. “I can't help it.”

The blonde trembled slightly, unable to focus on anything besides the feeling of the other boy's cock pressing up against him. “C-Can’t fuckin' believe this…”

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Hajime sighed. “Just… just ignore it… if you can,” he breathed. “I'll, um, try to calm-” He cut himself off when he felt the other boy's body starting to respond.

A dark flush crawled up Fuyuhiko's neck as he realized that he was getting hard, too. “Nnh… D-Don’t read into this… ‘S just ‘cause your dick is…”

Hajime cautiously grasped Fuyuhiko's hips, pulling their bodies tighter against each other, listening to the soft sounds the other boy made. “...You know… It might help us warm up…” he suggested quietly.

Fuyuhiko finally looked up at him, completely red. “Are you seriously suggesting that we…?”

The brunette stared back at him, mind moving slowly. “...Yeah.”

Breathing heavily, Fuyuhiko studied his face for what felt like ages, before relenting. “...F-Fine.”

Hajime's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't waste any time. He rolled his hips slowly, grinding against Fuyuhiko. A loud moan escaped from the blonde's mouth, and Hajime quickly repeated the action.

Letting out another low moan, Fuyuhiko closed his eyes. He rocked gently against Hajime, grinding back, pushing his embarrassment aside in favor of chasing this new sensation. He grasped Hajime's shoulders to brace himself as he began grinding down onto him in earnest.

The taller boy groaned, rutting against Fuyuhiko a little harder. They continued for several minutes, movements getting rougher and more desperate. Finally, Hajime wrapped his arms tightly around Fuyuhiko before tipping him onto his back. He covered the smaller boy's body with his own and resumed grinding against him, gasping at the feeling of Fuyuhiko's cock against his.

Whining softly, Fuyuhiko grabbed Hajime's face, yanking him down into a clumsy kiss. He licked and nipped at Hajime's mouth, hips still rolling to meet each thrust. Their bodies pressed tightly together as they continued grinding into each other, the cold long since forgotten.

Fuyuhiko's legs came up to wrap around Hajime's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The brunette kissed him hungrily, wanting to savor as much of this as he could. His arms snaked around Fuyuhiko, holding him tightly, bucking his hips hard.

After desperately rutting against each other for a long time, Fuyuhiko finally broke the kiss, looking up at Hajime with watery eyes. “Mmn… bastard,” he growled, “you better give me more!”

Hajime stared back, breathing heavily. “M-More…?” He swallowed hard. “Like… you want me to fuck you?”

Fuyuhiko's face flushed even darker. “Sh-Shut up! This is your fault… so come on…!” He tightened his legs around the other boy, grinding roughly against him. “At least fuckin' f-finger-fuck me!”

The demand sounded much too good to be true, and Hajime's brain was moving much too slowly to make sense of it, but his hormones certainly knew what to do. He popped two fingers into his mouth, quickly coating them with spit before reaching down between the other boy's legs. He tried to keep his breathing even as he traced the rim of Fuyuhiko's entrance, carefully spreading saliva over it.

The yakuza heir bit his lip, hips instinctively jerking towards Hajime's fingers. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted those fingers inside of him so badly, wanted Hajime to push and stretch and open him up…

So when one digit slid into him, all Fuyuhiko could do was moan, squeezing his eyes shut. His attention was fully commanded by the finger that was already beginning to move in and out of his hole. “More,” he gasped quietly, hoping Hajime could still hear him.

The brunette definitely got the message, and he quickly worked a second finger into Fuyuhiko. He pumped both fingers slowly, watching the other boy's face, enthralled by how pretty he looked. “Feel good?” he asked hoarsely.

“Mmn…!” Fuyuhiko's eyes blinked open, slowly focusing on Hajime's face. “Y-Yeah… So good…!”

Feeling more confident, Hajime began plunging his fingers into Fuyuhiko faster, burying them to the hilt on each stroke. He bucked his hips, grinding his cock against the other boy, desperate for stimulation. He drank in Fuyuhiko's moans and whines as he fingered him open.

It didn't take long for Hajime's patience to run thin. “Fuyuhiko,” he murmured, curling his fingers and listening to the resulting cries. “...Can I please… Can I please fuck you?”

The blonde clenched reflexively around his fingers, moaning loudly. “Fuckin' obviously! I want your cock so bad…!”

Immediately, Hajime pulled his fingers out and brought his cock to Fuyuhiko's entrance. He pressed the tip firmly against his hole, feeling the ring of muscle twitch, but he paused there.

When he didn't start pushing in, Fuyuhiko glared up at him, chest heaving. “The fuck are you waiting for?” He tightened his legs around Hajime, trying to pull him inside.

“S-Sorry,” Hajime breathed, staying in place. “I just… I don't want this to be… a one-time thing.”

The blonde growled in frustration. “You're not even in me yet and you're already worrying about doing this again?”

“N-No!” Hajime yelped. “Well… yes, but not just that.” He steeled his nerves and looked into the other boy's eyes. “I like you, Fuyuhiko.”

Fuyuhiko's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, but he didn't stop pushing back against Hajime's cock. “Nng… O-Okay, great, now fuck me already!”

But Hajime still didn't move. “...Do you like me, too?”

The yakuza heir squeezed his eyes closed and groaned in annoyance. “Oh my god, yes, okay? Obviously I like you if I'm about to let you fuck me! You think I spread my fuckin' legs for just anybody?” He glared up at his partner. “I fucking like you, Hajime, but if you don't put your fucking dick in me right fucking now-!”

Hajime cut him off, kissing him hard. He finally started pushing in, swallowing Fuyuhiko's surprised moans, not stopping until he was fully inside. Pleasure overwhelmed his senses as the other boy's tight body enveloped him.

Fuyuhiko's arms and legs tightened around him, nails digging into his shoulders. Hajime broke the kiss, panting, pressing himself as deep as possible. “F-Fuck…!” he hissed.

The yakuza heir's head fell back against the floorboards and a loud moan tore out of his throat. “Holy shit!” he sobbed. “Holy…! Nnh, Hajime…!”

Mind reeling, Hajime leaned in to kiss Fuyuhiko's ear. “...Does it hurt?” he asked quietly, barely resisting the urge to just start pounding into the other boy.

“No,” Fuyuhiko panted, “f-feels good…!” He rocked against Hajime, urging him to move.

The taller boy was more than happy to comply, thrusting into the hot body beneath him, moaning and tightening his hold on Fuyuhiko. When the blonde gasped with pleasure, Hajime rolled his hips forward again. He began a slow rhythm, driving himself deep into Fuyuhiko's hole over and over.

Keening, the yakuza heir clung tightly to his partner. He raised his hips, completely enraptured by the feeling of Hajime inside of him. He dug his nails into the other boy's shoulders, moaning desperately. “Shit… Harder!”

Hajime started moving faster, thrusting harder, fucking into Fuyuhiko excitedly. He groaned against the other boy's temple as his hips pounded forward. The tight heat surrounding his cock was almost overwhelming, but he tried to focus on his partner's pleasure.

It seemed like it was working, judging by the way Fuyuhiko arched and moaned under him. Hajime leaned down to press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to Fuyuhiko's neck and shoulders. “Mmn, you're so fucking tight…” he growled, burying himself deep.

Fuyuhiko yanked him into a desperate kiss, rolling his hips into each of Hajime's thrusts. He whined into his lover's mouth as his cock brushed his prostate. He scratched down Hajime's back, biting at his lip and moaning breathlessly.

Hajime pounded into his lover, fucking him into the floor. He kissed him back hungrily, reaching down to grasp Fuyuhiko's hips, pulling him into each rough thrust.

When Hajime hit his sweet spot, Fuyuhiko keened and arched off the floor. “Mmf…! Fuck, Hajime…!” He clenched around his lover's cock, reaching between their bodies to desperately stroke himself.

It didn't take long for both of them to near the edge. Hajime thrusted faster, aiming for Fuyuhiko's prostate, burying his face in his hair. He moaned hoarsely. “I'm… I'm close…”

“Hah, me too…!” Fuyuhiko gasped. “Harder, please!” He stroked himself faster as he rocked into Hajime's thrusts.

His lover groaned and bucked his hips harder, trying to drive him to his peak. “F-Fuyuhiko…! Mmh, gonna cum…!”

The blonde clung tighter to him, muscles clenching reflexively. “Fuck yeah! Do it, cum in me!” He arched again, a loud, keening moan tearing out of him.

Hajime's orgasm abruptly crashed over him and he slammed his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible. His seed poured into Fuyuhiko's body and he moaned breathlessly against his temple.

Feeling the sudden flood of warmth inside him had Fuyuhiko gasping. “Oh, fuck!” He jerked himself faster, squeezing tight around Hajime's cock as he finally came, spilling onto his stomach.

The boys stayed curled around each other as they came down from their high. Hajime trailed soft, breathless kisses down Fuyuhiko's temple and cheek, capturing his lips tenderly. His partner hummed into the kiss, combing his clean hand through Hajime's hair.

When he pulled back, Hajime smiled down at the other boy. “You okay?”

Fuyuhiko let out a soft laugh. “Okay? Really? My ass just got destroyed.”

Hajime's eyebrows knitted. “Oh… was I too rough?”

The blonde snorted, pulling him closer. “Course not, dumbass. It was my f-first time,” he admitted, blushing slightly. “Pretty sure I would be sore no matter what.”

Feeling a little better, Hajime connected their lips again. He wrapped his arms tightly around Fuyuhiko, holding him lovingly. He wasn't sure how long the volatile boy was going to let himself be held, but he was going to savor every second.

Outside, the blizzard was finally starting to pass, but neither of them noticed. They were more than happy to stay nestled in each other's warmth.

Lmao that was fun to write. I felt bad about posting a chapter with no smut, so boom, you get a prompt drabble. Like I said, I totally didn't proofread this, so I don't know if it sounds okay. I'm releasing it into the wild anyway.

[grayintogreen]

WIP Wednesday

Hello, hello. Chapter 39 is coming along nicely. I'm about 13k into what's estimated to be probably a max 19k chapter (three scenes left to write), so it'll be a little bit shorter than average for this arc, but I'm trying to streamline some stuff since the last two chapters involve a lot of fight scenes and conflict and there's just no time for a lot of downtime, etc.

As such, here's two small scenes for a preview!

-

Mighty Nein Battle Tactic, code name Inclement Weather:

Primarily an ambush tactic for melee fighters, using the Ring of Obscuring or Marine Layer (or both for a thicker fog), the party hides within and signals their location with individual bird calls whenever someone gets within five feet of them. If the person close by doesn’t respond, then they are an enemy and dealt with accordingly.

Fjord never considered the psychological ramifications of trapping people in fog and startling them with bird calls until now, but maybe it was the just the audience. A bunch of kids with swords and a little bit of magic and something to prove rush into something like this, and suddenly they realize they’re in over their head and get scared. You would think this would inspire pity and you’d be right if they were not scared kids with swords and a little bit of magic. He was getting back exactly what he gave whenever someone wandered close to his section of the fog simply because his opponent was being too reckless.

They were children, but they were dangerous, and as much as it hurt him to fight lethally, he couldn’t see well enough to hold back even if his targets weren’t being completely erratic. Pragmatism won out, as it always did, and he took solace in the fact that he couldn’t see the bodies he was stepping over.

Someone came up on his left and he whistled his call and got back Beau’s as a response. He relaxed a bit.

“Inclement Weather, nice,” she said, casually- a bit too casually.

“What happened in there?” He shot back.

“I dunno, man. Why didn’t you catch the runner?”

Fair. He swallowed his pride and didn’t argue with her. He could hear Cree and Caduceus doing their calls from farther back and they both answered, their responses punctuated by the wet sound of a glaive being driven into someone’s intestines and twisting them like so much fucking pasta. Cree also wasn’t in the vicinity of fucking around with these people.

“Where’s Lucien?” Beau hissed, noting the absence of his call.

“Must still be fighting the arsehole who was watching us.”

“Must be a tough opponent if he’s still fighting.”

“Must be.”

☽

The blade in Eadwulf’s hands hummed like an Elven lullaby as he shook off Lucien’s blood curse. For fuck’s sake, he had hoped to have a few more rounds of it. Scowling, Lucien spun and danced and tried to land a hit, but now his opponent was playing for keeps and he wouldn’t allow a single thrust to land, leaving him constantly on the defensive, parrying the much larger blade to keep it from finding purchase.

Worthy opponent, his tail. It was only fun when he was winning.

“You’re slowing down,” Eadwulf grinned, managing to make even cheek look stoic. Was that disappointment in his eyes? Oh fuck that.

Vigor renewed, Lucien lunged like a demon in a furious dervish of spinning blades. Eadwulf’s defenses couldn’t hold against that kind of savagery. He faltered under the weight and dropped to one knee and Lucien, seeing that moment of vulnerability, trapped his neck between the two adamantine scimitars, panting and ready to take it as a prize.

His opponent looked at him with resignation, tinged with a sense of deep personal victory that this was how it would end, even if it wasn’t necessarily how he intended the fight to go. “I see why Bren is in love with you.”

Lucien startled. Bren… Bren… Who the fuck was Bren? Caleb?

A sense of abject fury rose so fast that the Beast was curious and supplied its own echo to the way he growled out, ”This whole time… You thought you were fighting Mollymauk?!”

[thatndginger]

Happy WBW, lovely! Not sure why, but today I'm asking about fashion?? What does the fashion-- I'm talking high, street, or anything else-- look like in your world(s)?

Hey Tori! Thanks for the ask! I swear I am trying to get better about answering these in a timely manner!

As is becoming the tradition for most worldbuilding asks, I'm gonna throw this to War Witch ^.^ It's more fun to talk about than Shapeshifter in this regard, anyway.

War Witch is based roughly on the time period between 1890 and 1910, technologically and aesthetically. If you've ever delved into the history of fashion and dressmaking from the Victorian to Edwardian periods [1837 to 1910] it's fucking fascinating and a rabbit hole of epic proportions. But we're here to talk about the War Witch version of fashion, not ours!

Fashion in War Witch's primary setting of Korin is fairly gendered, but it's not unusual for women to be seen wearing traditionally masculine clothing in the lower classes anymore. The upper classes still tend to maintain a rigid gender binary [in addition to other rigid cultural mores] when it comes to clothing and appearance, but that has more or less been thrown out by the lower working classes in the major population centers.

Upper class fashion, high fashion, is very up-to-date and almost always changing. The current trend for women is an 's' shaped silhouette (bust pushed forward, hips pushed back), skirts that fit close at the waist and flare at the hem, blouses with puffed sleeves, an abundance of lace and ruffles, and elaborate hats and hairdos. Two-piece outfits with blouses and skirts separated are all the rage for everyday wear. Meanwhile, for evening gowns and party wear, elaborate decorations and an absence of hats is the norm.

Men's fashion changes little, outside of small details. A well-made, tailored suit is preferred for both day and eveningwear. Daywear usually consists of a coat, waistcoat, shirt, trousers, cravat, and silk hat. Long overcoats or trenchcoats are common during inclement weather. An upper class gentleman will never be caught without a watch on a chain. Eveningwear usually consists of a black dresscoat and pants, white waistcoat, and white cravat.

I've got a whole folder of fashion ideas so here's some highlights for the upper classes!

[examples of upper class women's fashion]

[examples of upper-class men's fashion]

For the lower classes, fashion is usually dictated by convenience and cost. There is still an attempt to emulate high fashion trends, but at a lesser scale. Holdovers from previous fashion trends are common, since for some families it is too expensive or time-consuming to update their wardrobes at the speed high fashion demands. For women, the two-piece outfit has always been popular (it's here that the trend first started, in fact). In factories and other areas of mechanized industry it isn't uncommon to see women wearing trousers and pants, and this has been bleeding out into the general society over the last decade or so. Common examples of lower-class clothing:

[examples of lower class men and women's fashion]

I swear the lower classes have colorful clothes, but do you know how drab and boring recreations like to be???

Oh, and just for a bit of spice, here are some inspiration images for the Royal Koric Military's outfits!

[secondgenerationnerd]

Any safety tips really. I’m a woman and I’m about to move to a new city

I can give some safety tips!

One: have a go bag ready in case of fire, inclement weather (tornado, snowstorm, etc). This should have clothes (I suggest ones you won’t miss), a pair of shoes, copies of important documents (Social security card, passport, drivers license, important medical information, etc), a first aid kit (I suggest going to dollar tree and getting the stuff, just as good and cheaper), and some emergency cash.

I also have a version of this in my trunk, sans the money, and with things like fire starters in it. And cheap, non clumping cat litter for snow/ice

Two: if you have more than one entrance to your house, like I have a front and back door, but you don’t use one, I highly recommend these travel locks. I’ve put my whole body weight on them, they make me feel way more secure, especially when I travel alone.

Three: DO NOT TAKE YOUR TRASH OUT AT NIGHT. I know you probably know this, but it bears repeating.

Four: know your rights as a tenant. You can look up your city/state/federal information regarding things like when they can/can’t enter, how long they have to fix issues, etc.

Four and a half: TAKE PICTURES/VIDEO OF THE APARTMENT OR HOUSE BEFORE YOU MOVE ANYTHING IN. MAKE NOTE OF ANYTHING ALREADY BROKEN OR SCUFFED. I’ve been at my apartment for 6 years this July, so I’m not concerned with my security deposit. But make damn fucking sure you document everything.

Five: if you’re going somewhere new, text someone you trust where you’re going. I do this when I travel, so that the people who love me know I got to my location safe/when I get home. Now you don’t have to do this every time, but if you’re not totally sure about a place, let someone know.

Six: trust your instincts. We’re taught as women we “over think” everything, leading to us second guess ourselves in very important situations. If you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, don’t worry about being seen as “polite” or “disrespectful”. Your safety is more important than someone else’s ego

[mylightsatnight]

The moments of '24.

I've been down for 3 days. maybe it's the cycle, maybe it's the inclement weather, burrowing farther into the negatives with each day speeding towards the collapse of '24, and rise of '25. Fewer friends send random texts, but I can still count on a couple for spontaneous calls every couple months...Those really mean a lot to me. But as I drove, I had a moment wherein I needed to recall some deeper moments of this year.

More than any other, this moment came back to me. I was in the kitchen, 8pm, little more than a month ago. I had just gotten mad at some online friends for making an inside joke one-too-many times. There was nothing wrong with the joke, nothing wrong with what they did, or how they said it, I was just incredibly manic, and didn't realize how sensitive I was in that moment. The person I wanted to call me back didn't, and the wife I wanted to hold in my arms didn't exist yet. I pet my dog once, and shuffled to the kitchen. I pulled out the peppers from the vegetable drawer, and got the defrosted chicken. I put the rice-maker on. I sliced mushrooms, minced garlic, and cut the shoots of the green onions. I threw it in oil, prepped the oven, I grated the cheese, and prepared every other step needed for this makeshift recipe I had never done before. I put a jazz playlist on my speaker, and paid close attention to each emotional note they played, and cut the peppers in syncopation to Oscar Peterson's triplets... I felt more calm, setting my mind to an organized task in the chaos soup of my jellied amygdala.

A song came on later, that made me put down the spatula, and permitted me to allow the rice to burn just a little so that I could dance, in my kitchen, at the end of day, alone. I couldn't tell if it was happy, or sad. (Or fuck both those emotions because the real meaning of them is never clear and it's just what we use to explain to children.) I was morose, and jovial, I was distraught and calm, I panicked as I clapped, and I felt relief as my body contorted like explosive corpses. I released something in myself that night. Maybe the only reason I could is because the curtains were drawn, the windows were closed, and even my dog didn't watch what I was doing. But regardless I thought about "A Fisherman's Beard" from Crocus. I thought about swing dancing in that church at 16. I thought about my destructive repetitive patterns that never seemed to improve despite my awareness of such flaws.

and here I break:

and here I return again:

But I don't known if my absence from the keyboard led to any more genuine, or affecting thoughts...

Maybe my search for authenticity through art is as pointless as chasing happiness, because we all know that mountain will rain once you reach the peak, and carry you down the side of the valley...

Sure, I am sorrowed, mourning for my life that could have been. But Surviving, Thriving, and Living are all different states of being that one can not easily convert into until the previous stage is conquered. I fell from grace, and now the lowest layer is where I try to surmount..

I see a couple make their way inside of the cafe I'm in, (shocker) and I realize how fortunate I am that these have remained safe spaces despite how many loves I have taken to each one...Do they still think of me? In broad daylight, or quiet hours of the night? Do I only come up when they see relationship-left-behinds? Little motorcycle statues, and gifts given at monumentally prodigious moments?

I wonder where she is...each one of the she's... and when I'm gone, I just hope they realize it will not be them that was at fault. It was always myself. I could not conquer, I could not overcome. I should have been kinder, calmer, I should have been more. ... I... I wonder if I even could have been, or it's just a farce I say to romanticize the past...

I remember her blonde hair...

It made me picture greek fountains, pouring and shooting water through warm spring days. Her, the statue at the centre, the water honouring her curves, splashing, running, her body stretched and angled in ways that make your libido double. Her smile, and her scent, summertime mint and savoury sage...

If she knew how I thought about her....would that have been enough to make her stay? I don't know... I never have. But '25 is fast approaching, and the devils of the past have no use small-talking the angels who have yet to lose their halo to horns.