#I don't think I agree with everything I wrote

[writingfantaseas]

bratting until she snaps.

bratting and she's not doing anything. just agreeing. "maybe you're a bitch!"

and she's fine with it. "maybe I am."

oh, and it's confusing. she's so calm about it. she'd usually have me on my knees in half a second, but suddenly it's fine. not a single word of degredation or mention of punishment leaves her. terrifying.

terrifying, but i'll push it anyways.

it's only till the end of the week when she tells me i owe her. "owe you what?" and i'm oh so innocent, because why wouldn't i? i've gotten away with everything.

it's only when she pins me to the wall that i realised i fucked up. "aw. you really don't know? it's not my fault you're such a dumb pup. you really thought i'd let you get away with all this shit?" and condescendingly, "you hurt my feelings, puppy. it's only fair i get to break you in return, right?"

wasn't thinking of anyone. other than maybe when i wrote 'aw'. if you know, you know.

men, minors dni

lucius, close your eyes.

[brightdown00]

I read that post. I also never claimed that he's the protector of women in Greek mythology (because there isn't one).

I never said that Ares was a 'feminist icon' (I would not look for one in Greek mythology), this post was written in response to the claims that Hades is a 'feminist husband' when in reality, his marriage with Persephone was the epitome of everything wrong with Ancient Greece (and elsewhere!) so Ares would be the best possible candidate for a male feminist since the bar is set so low, it's in Tartarus.

Even so, I will be editing my post.

Why does Ares get so much praise for killing his daughter's rapist (whereas the other Gods don't)? There are two reasons. One is that Ares has never raped anyone, and two, he was actually tried for it - even though his daughter and Poseidon's son were both demigods so such a thing should not even make it to a trial by the Gods.

There is a version of the myth by Panyasis where Ares was found guilty and forced to serve among mortals, so it was more of an exile (Zeus doled out the same punishment to Apollo and Poseidon for their attempted coup).

Yes, I know about Artemis and Apollo as children protecting Leto from Tityos (it's even on my Hera post), and the reason why I (and others) isn't so moved by it is because as adults, Apollo raped Creusa to conceive Ion (Euripides wrote a whole play about it) and Artemis set up Aura, one of her hunting companions, to be raped by Dionysus (which she mocked Aura about).

Now re-reading the myths, it appears that Ares and Aphrodite may have been together BEFORE she married Hephaestus, or maybe because the timeline of Greek mythology is wonky, but Dionysus is the son of Semele, daughter of Harmonia, which would make granddaughter of Ares and Aphrodite. Dionysus is the one who got Hephaestus drunk enough to free Hera. Yet, Hephaestus gave Harmonia a cursed necklace and robe for her wedding to Cadmus, as revenge for her parents' infidelity during his marriage. (Which, now come to think of it, would make Dionysus her great-great-grandson ...)

I knew that Spartans didn't care much for Ares, but I assumed that her Areia epithet was for him. Aphrodite was represented as an warrior goddess (something which is not at all present in the myths) in Sparta and Kythera.

I may have worded it wrong. What I meant is that Ancient Greeks would have perceived him as the legitimate son, given how they projected their sociocultural norms onto their Gods in their myths. While it's true that Ares is a loser both on and off the battlefield, we are talking about ZEUS here. Y'know, the same Zeus who swallowed his pregnant wife in fear that she would give birth to a son who could overthrow him, even though the prophecy explicitly states that Metis would give birth to a daughter and then a son? (I guess that he was paranoid that she might have carried twins ...) It's also not true that Zeus is incapable of being overthrown (Hera, Poseidon, Apollo and Athena very nearly succeeded had it not been for the intervention of Thetis). You have to take their sociocultural norms into consideration when reading the myths. The cliche of the king fearing that his legitimate son would someday overthrow him was a very real fear back in those days. Funny you bring up Orphism, because we both agree that Zeus would NEVER abdicate the throne to one of his sons, and Hera feared that Semele would take away her throne as Queen consort when she ascended to Olympus but she didn't.

Cronus swallowed Rhea's five children including three daughters, even though the prophecy plainly states that he would be overthrown by a son, and goes on to father three sons with his mistress whom he didn't swallow. Why did he do this? (Besides the fact that he's a dick?) The prophecy doesn't state anything specific. It's meant to be symbolic of the fact that Rhea is his legal wife and so her children (or at least her sons) have a legitimate claim to the throne.

Come to think of it, I think I might write a new post on this, and the true origins of the Oedipal Complex.

Ares and Apollo have next to no interaction in mythological canon, whatsoever. I can't recall one myth in which they do, since Ares doesn't show up a lot. (Ares persecuting a pregnant Leto doesn't count.) I can only think of him boxing Hermes for Tanagra, or the two of being present at the punishment of Ixion. Zeus' favourite child, irregardless of gender, is Athena. When Hera, Poseidon, Apollo, and Athena teamed up to put Zeus in his place, only Athena escapes any sort of punishment. In The Iliad, Ares accuses Zeus of favouring only Athena, and during the Trojan War, Hera asks Athena beat Ares up. Ares represents the hellish side of war, Athena represents the glorious side of war ... I'm surprised that you don't know of this very basic tidbit.

People use Ares persecuting a pregnant Leto against him, but there is no evidence that he ever touched her, only that he prevented her from setting foot in any city, and Hera is not only his mother but the Queen of Olympus. The entirety of Ancient Greece was obeying her whim, and so are we really going to fault her SON for it?

Interesting that he had a festival in which women couldn't attend, but if it was in Athens, then note that women could only attend women-only festivals.

If You Want An ACTUAL 'Feminist Icon' Man With Depth, Then Ares Is Your Best Candidate (NOT Hades!)

He has been SEVERELY misrepresented.

1) Ares is quite literally the ONLY Greek God (sitting on the Twelve Olympians) who doesn't need to be put on an sex offender registry. (I won't speak for his Roman counterpart, Mars, however ...) The worst he ever did, was seduce Phylonome, an hunting companion of Artemis, in the guise of an shepherd. That's hardly comparable to Zeus seducing Callisto in the guise of Artemis, or Alkmene in the guise of her husband Amphitryon, or Poseidon seducing Tyro in the guise of the river-God Enicepus.

2) Not only is Ares the only one who isn't a rapist, but he has actually stood up for sexual assault survivors more than once (even if they're his mother or daughter!) Ares was famously tried (and acquitted!) for homicide by a jury of the Twelve Olympians, after he slew Poseidon's son for raping his daughter. If he was found guilty, the sentence would have been Tartarus and/or losing his godhood. All the gods voted to convict, all the goddesses voted to acquit, and what with Poseidon as prosecutor, Zeus as judge, and Ares as defendant, there were more goddesses on the jury than gods. Even if Zeus cast his vote to convict, it would have come to a tie and the rule was that the defendant is to be acquitted if there is a tie. Ares was also trapped in a jar for protecting his mother Hera from an giant son of Poseidon who stormed Olympus, and he was only a child at the time. He was also present at the punishment of Ixion who attempted to violate Hera, alongside Athena and Hermes.

3) Ares is the father of the Amazons (you hear that, DC Comics?) The founder of the Amazons, Otrera (who, btw, is the mythological founder of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus), is either his daughter with the wood-nymph Harmonia, or his consort (if she is the daughter of Eurus, God of the North Winds) by whom he fathered Melanippe, Antiope, Hippolyta, and Penthesilea. Their nation's capital city is named Themiskyra in honour of Themis (Zeus' second wife and his aunt by whom he fathered three daughters), whom Ares is on surprisingly close terms with (see the Homeric Hymn to Ares), since he was also the patron god of the law enforcement.

4) One of Ares' epithets is 'feasted by women', in the ancient city of Tegea in Arcadia; during a war between the Tegeans and the Spartans, the women of Tegea defended the city from an invasion led by the Spartan king Charilaus.

5) Women abused by their husbands would pray to Ares for strength, since he is also the God of Courage, which may have (sadly) further contributed to his unpopularity in Ancient Greece.

6) Aphrodite was forced into a marriage as ransom with Hephaestus who petitioned Zeus to marry Athena, Aphrodite expected that she would marry Ares instead (since no one even knew about Hephaestus). Love and War. Their children are Eros (the literal Cupid himself) and Anteros (Unrequited Love), Phobos (Fear), Deimos (Panic), and Harmonia (Harmony). They have an open marriage, despite Ares killing Adonis as a boar and Aphrodite cursing Eos with insatiable lust. Spartans in particular worshipped their marriage, with Aphrodite receiving the epithet of 'Areia' (similar to how Zeus has the epithet of 'Heraion'), and we all know how Spartans treated their women compared to many other Greek city-states. Note how Ares and Aphrodite are the only married couple on the Twelve Olympians besides Zeus and Hera themselves, which brings me to my next point ...

7) Even though Ares was not worshipped by many Ancient Greeks (just as they didn't even feel comfortable mentioning Hades by name), he was always depicted as an handsome soldier, which was the peak of male attractiveness at the time. He was legally considered as the true heir to the throne of Olympus as the only legitimate son of Zeus and Hera (since Hephaestus was conceived via parthenogenesis) and one of the most handsome of Zeus' sons (which is why Aphrodite hoped to marry him). Bizarrely, he could almost be considered as Ancient Greece's cultural equivalent of Prince Charming in a way.

8) Ares is the son of Hera (the Goddess of Marriage, Family, and Childbirth, Patron of Women and Queen of Olympus) and the husband of Aphrodite (Goddess of Love and Beauty; Lust and Sexuality; Desire and Pleasure). He is also the rival to his half-sister Athena (Goddess of Wisdom and Reason; Strategy and Warfare; Arts and Crafts) for his father's affections. He's also on good terms with his grand-aunt, Themis, and I would assume Hestia. Zeus and Hera's other children are all daughters (Enyo, Eileithyia, Hebe, Angelos, Arge, Eleuthera), and Zeus is afraid that Ares would overthrow him (see 7). It's not hard to see why Ares drinks the Respect Women Juice unlike his father, uncles, or brothers.

[error501blog]

Race, Live-Action Casting, and Ninjago

I'll start by saying something everyone can agree on.

No Chris Pratt.

Now that's out of the way I want to state my purpose for this rant. It's to spark discussion. I want to hear other people's ideas and perspectives. I'm one Asian American out of literal billions. I know after typing everything out I'll feel bad, but this feels like a discussion the fandom needs to address. Every perspective is worth considering and thinking through.12

I'm not worried about the casting. Warner Bros. is a big studio that doesn't want any negative press. At least, Kai and Nya are going to be Asian. I'm worried about the other Ninja, mainly Lloyd. But I think the studio doesn't want to be cancelled, so that's not my number one worry. My number one worry is Garmadon. If Garmadon is in the movie, will his skin be literally black? his can be sidestepped if Garmadon isn't included period. But the Hagemans love their emo dad. Still, I don't want blackface Garmadon.

My theory is the casting will have a similar model to what Avatar did in it's live action. There were white voice actors, now they're played by a diverse cast. Kiawentiio is amazing, but not as tan as Katara was in the animated series. (That's a discussion within itself) There was a controversy with Ian Ousley. I'm not going to get into those topics, but they did happen.

However, the worry for many comes from the fact Ninjago is more racially ambiguous than Avatar: The Last Airbender. Almost all the characters-with exceptions being the Water Tribes and Sun Warriors-are Asian. Avatar: The Last Airbender has characters with a variety of skin tones and facial features. Ninjago has almost all of it's characters with yellow skin. Which is typical for LEGO, but feels iffy in an Asian inspired world. The fact everyone has yellow skin lends to an almost race blind world. However, names come from countries. Completely human characters have blond/ginger hair. Lloyd and Master Wu have blond hair. Master Wu is especially weird because he has the aesthetic of the Hollywood wise old Asian martial arts teacher there to help the protagonist. But he's blond.

In a cartoon I can suspend my disbelief. In the show I can't see facial features. Everyone in Ninjago has the same eyes, unless if you're a robot, one of the very few women, or Lloyd. I can live with this in an animated show from the 2010s.

In live action films, there are close-up shots. People will stand next to each other. I know what real life people look like when I'll see the movie. This shouldn't matter to me. I shouldn't care so much, but the history of whitewashing roles in media is too vast. We interpret the world through race.

White is the default in the US. Examples being Ghost in the Shell Warriors TV series. Asian roles for media set in Asia for Asian roles are cast by white people with white people since 1961.

What I want to know is the world of the live action going to be Asian inspired? And the better question: should it?

I don't know.

Ninjago since day 1 has had a tenuous at best relationship with race. It is clearly in an Asian inspired world. Everyone knows Ninjas come from Japan. However, it's just an aesthetic.

The worldbuilding is very Western. If we compare to Avatar again, there is no use of any Asian philosophy in Ninjago. Avatar is chalked full of allusions to Buddhism and Japanese Imperialism. But, Avatar is a more well thought out show than the show where one of the main characters gets sent into another dimension and becomes evil, violates the Geneva convention then is given no acknowledgement and I hate it.

Ninjago when giving us culture that seems Asian inspired to me fails spectacularly. (The Kabuki from Chen's Island. That's a Tumblr rant within itself) The most obvious example being the yin and yang marriage proposals. They have Google! The writers could've gone down an internet rabbit hole for a variety of cultures. But we have this clumsy, "Will you be the Yin to my Yang?" It's stupid and I hate it.

However, Ninjago in the Wildbrain era started to move away from the Asian aesthetic. One could make the argument it started in Rebooted, but I'm saying Wildbrain era to keep this post short. We go to a pyramid in Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitzu. We meet the Ice people from the Never Realm which I think are inspired by the Inuit. I'm not too sure.

Dragon's Rising has done away with any resemblance to Asian culture. Sora is Japanese name, so maybe? But all the resemblance is from the old show. It's a fantasy show. They are a soft reboot. They could make their dragons look like literally anything in this soft reboot and they stick to the Western style ones. It's this big fantasy world, why am I not seeing any allusions Asian folklore?

But can't I blame Ninjago when they fumble so hard when they try. It's a lose lose situation. But research isn't worth it. Is a culture too inconvenient to even research? Because everything seems absorbed from other pieces of American media. Yin Yang has nothing to do with marriage-at least to my knowledge. It has to do with Daoism. There is no research or attempt. The show hasn't done a legitimate attempt in it's full run and that's sad.

We're seeing that when the Hageman brothers write they don't shy away from the Asian aspects of the world. Or maybe there was less understanding of Asian representation when the show first aired so they could do whatever they wanted. (And Wildbrain and Dragons Rising are more popular so have higher stakes if they fuck up too bad) This is racist, but it isn't coming from hatred. It's coming from ignorance. If this came from hatred why make a show about ninjas?

The Hageman brothers have demonstrated ignorance in their writing. I've been saying Asian instead of specific countries because everything is so monolithic in the show. It would be amazing to have this world for a big franchise shown to kids around the globe. (Especially to Americans who might not watch a show with an authentic cultural world if it didn't tie to Ninjago) But that's not going to come from them. It's never going to come from them.

Authentic Asian representation was lost when the writers were picked. I have no doubt there'll be sensitivity readers, but there'll most likely be a cultural erasure. I'm not mad at the Hagemans. I'm not even mad at Hollywood. But I'm disappointed in Warner Bros.

Please respond with your own opinion. If you agree or disagree with any of my points. Hell, if I said something racist let me know. I want this post to get people thinking and talking about their own opinions on casting and writing.

[thedreadvampy]

btw about Neil Gaiman I periodically agree with the 'Neil Gaiman is annoying' stuff bc I feel like both he and Amanda Palmer seem like people who I would go insane stuck in a room with bc we have very different ideas about art and suchlike. and I also do think that the career trajectory he's on lately is cynically redoing his greatest hits and pretending that was the dream all along when it clearly was not. which is at best meh.

having said which

as far as I can tell by far the most common complaint about Neil Gaiman is "Snow, Glass, Apples is problematic/gross/it's got incest and rape and frames the child as the aggressor"

which strikes me as a weird complaint to pull out of a 40 year body of work tbh when that short story is pretty clearly coming from a place of 'how far can I push this'. like you don't have to like the story. I don't really like the story. but it is. a horror story.

like and this is the thing with particularly 90s alt horror right? a lot of the interest is in transgression and sitting in the worst possible perspective and seeing what happens if you pull those strings. like I really like Clive Barker for example but there's a good chunk of his short stories that I'm like I'm not picking up what you're putting down Clive this seems Kinda Off. but that willingness to write some trite or Bad Message horror fiction that doesn't land is imo a side effect of being willing to try writing uncomfortable and unpleasant fiction at all. which is what horror is for, among other things, it's for creating discomfort as a form of catharsis or engagement.

like I am not a huge fan of the type of sex-horror that pops up in a lot of Gaiman's work and other contemporary horror writers - to me I don't find it upsetting or horny it just ends up feeling kind of edgy and tryhard - but I'm also a bit like. it does seem like a lot of people's beef with Neil Gaiman is that In The 90s He Was A Horror Writer

and this approach to Problematic Horror in Snow, Glass, Apples I find kind of microcosmic of how The Discourse often approaches art in this kind of 1:1 way. if you write a story which seems to line up with rape apologia it can only be because you agree with it. if you write a story about transphobia you're a transphobe. if you write a story that makes me genuinely uncomfortable you're attacking me.

but artwork, especially art like horror that's not necessarily trying to provoke enjoyment as its main response, is necessarily hit and miss. and if what you're shooting for is discomfort then whether it works, falls flat or goes too far incredibly depends on your audience. and making good art - as in art that makes its audience think, art that opens the audience up to discomfort and catharsis and sticks with them and changes them - requires the space to experiment and tbh the space to fuck up. like they aren't all going to be winners and they certainly aren't all going to work for you as a singular audience.

personally I don't see the appeal of Snow, Glass, Apples, less cause it's nasty and more cause it's hack. ooh an edgy monstrous version of a fairy tale where there's lots of rape and cannibalism? you're soooo original Neil. but like. that's fine. I don't really vibe with like 70% of Neil Gaiman stuff I've read but I still like Neil Gaiman because the stuff that works for me really works for me.

idk I think there's a lot of folk on this website who shouldn't interact with horror cause they clearly aren't interested in being horrified. that's not everyone who dislikes Snow, Glass, Apples, but it's a real undercurrent to a lot of the criticism and tbh this kinda vibe is shit for art. making standout art What Is Good also requires being ready to make art which stands out for the wrong reasons. sometimes they'll be the same art to different people.

[threewaysdivided]

Hey ! i'm a longtime follower of your blog and I've read a lot of your YJ analysis and why the latter seasons totally flopped. I haven't seen you comment on Young Justice Phantoms, although I guess your opinion remains the same. However I'd love to read it one day.

PS : I do think Greg Weisman is a decent writer, but not that good at characterization and desperatly needs editors and not enablers *sigh*

Hey nonnie!

Glad you’ve found my YJ writing critiques interesting. 

The reason why I haven’t commented on Young Justice: Phantoms (or the final Targets comic) is that I haven’t watched it, haven’t read a synopsis and have no plans to ever do so.  My interest in the series went pretty cold as far back as Invasion but at the time I was willing to give the showrunners good faith on their claims that they had a plan to bring things together and that the problems were mostly production issues.  However, after how bad Outsiders was (and having seen similar awfulness from Greg Weisman in other franchises) I don’t have any good faith or trust left to give them.

I talked at length about how Outsiders left the show with no compelling narrative as part of this big Invasion breakdown (grumpier TL:DR version here), but here are the most relevant sections:

In terms of the Central Conflict, the Light are proved utterly correct: by Outsiders the Original Team are callous, hollow husks of their former selves, who have replicated a worse version of the same status quo the Team originally formed in response to. Dick, Kaldur and M’gann’s Anti-Light are a new upper echelon of older heroes who keep even more secrets from the next generations, who exclude the new generations far more strongly from knowing their plans, who give them even less reason to trust or communicate with them, and who do so for less just, less honest and less narratively justified reasons than their own mentors’ understandable (if condescending) desire to shield the proteges from the parts of the Life they may not yet have been equipped to face. Not only that but their constant lying with the intent to control others, and refusal to hold themselves accountable for those actions goes directly against both the League’s stated heroic ideals of “Truth, Liberty and Justice” and Red Tornado’s conclusion that caring is “the human thing to do”. By the end of Outsiders, even the existence of the Team itself is undone; decommissioned into the exact kind of safe training space that the Season 1 characters were desperate for it never to be. […] With Outsiders, any actual narrative set by Young Justice Season 1 is over. By their own standards the Team have lost, and lost entirely.

The meta-narrative of Young Justice Animated is that of a show that started with a promising initial season and strong sense of narrative identity, only to discard every part of that identity.  With Invasion the show discarded its original characterisations, themes and ideologies; replacing them with contradictory and often antithetical ones.  Outsiders would then shed even the surface trappings of its aesthetic (in favour of the more generic “modern DC” art-style) and mission-based narrative structure.  There is nothing left, save for some superficial proper nouns and call-back references: the textbook definition of an In Name Only Sequel.

I didn’t bother with Phantoms (and am frankly a little artistically insulted by its existence) because I knew it was doomed from the start to be a narrative stillbirth.  Having actively abandoned its original identity, Young Justice was left desperately scrambling to forge a new one, by clawing at the one thing it had left: people’s nostalgic attachment to the Season 1 iterations of the cast.  But this could never work because every season since has been engaged in a performative pretense of not acknowledging the character-breaking contradictions and hypocrisies forced upon the original cast by the poor writing decisions.  Phantoms would have to thread an impossible needle: wanting to be about the “journey” of the original cast for nostalgia reasons, while not being able to acknowledge that the last two seasons (and attaché comics) have resulted in all of them either actively failing or being tragically soft-locked out of their explicit character arcs without breaking that kayfabe of performative ignorance.  And, in trying to tell a story without engaging with that story's content or how broken it had become, what would they have left but to fall back yet again on canonical filler, sidequests and references held loosely together by contrivance? 

It could only ever be a zombie-fic of itself: having long-since concluded or abandoned any remaining character or plot threads, driven forward solely by the stream-of-consciousness compulsive-writing of a production team desperate to remain present, relevant and profitable.  And from the feedback I’ve heard from the general community and fandom friends who kept watching, it seems like Phantoms did indeed pull down the curtain on that empty, directionless, hollow-automaton-filled narrative for a lot of people.

As for Greg Weisman himself, while I agree that he is a particularly poor character-writer, I will respectfully but firmly disagree that he’s otherwise decent.  I think the fact that we have to caveat “he’s a decent writer” with the condition “so long as he’s surrounded by a team of strong editors and directors to keep him from being awful” kind of reveals that he isn’t.   I also don’t really accept the premise that the main fault lies with the people around him for not stopping that.  They certainly haven’t helped but he’s a grown adult who can make his own decisions. Enablers don’t generally induce behaviours; they simply amplify or become complicit in the behaviours that are already there.

In the video Plagiarism and You(tube), Hbomberguy did a great job of laying out the difference between “honest mistakes” – which can be easily cleared up by good-faith apologies and explanations – and “dishonest behaviour” – where the person(s) is aware that what they are doing is not appropriate and falls back on reputation-protecting deflections and “non-apologies” to avoid consequences when caught.  Weisman would not so-frequently disrespect his colleagues’ work with contradictions, or write patterns of misogyny, queerphobia, casual racism/ableism and abuse apologism into his stories if he did not fundamentally feel entitled to do so, was not comfortable and in agreement with those beliefs, or did not think he could get away with it.  And the way he has routinely responded to even gentle, good-faith comments by fans expressing frustration/confusion with inconsistent characterisation/structure indicates someone who knows he has done the wrong thing but resents being questioned or held accountable.  And then we see him continuing the same behaviours.  A “decent writer” should not need an editor to hold their hand and explain why directly contracting explicitly-stated characterisation is bad practice.  A “good ally” should not need someone to tell them that disproportionately subjecting queer/non-white characters to shock-value violence, writing minority characters to be dirty/dangerous/less valid in their identities, erasing/demonising/misgendering AFAB trans and bisexual identities, rewriting strong female characters to need motherhood or men to “tell them who they are”, writing gay men to be secretly misogynistic/racist, and framing victims as being equally responsible for their abuse is offensive.  All of which he has either directly done or tacitly allowed under his lead.  Multiple times.  Across multiple series.

These are not isolated incidents of “good-faith mistakes” from a newcomer learning the ropes (if they were, it wouldn’t bother me like this).  Weisman has had multiple seasons - multiple franchises even - and decades to show himself to be the kind of sincere ally and visionary artist of integrity that myself and his fans wanted him to be… and that he has so benefited from presenting himself as.  He has chosen not to. Say what you want about their stories, but you can’t claim that marginalised creators like ND Stevenson, Rebecca Sugar, Dana Terrace and allies like Neil Gaiman didn’t push back hard against their own publishers and make a lot of careful compromises in order to tell those stories in a way they felt was respectful. Weisman is in a very privileged position, with a resume that carries a decent amount of clout. He could have held himself to the creative standards he publicly expresses; could have worked improve his craft, could have examined his own biases and actually learned from the communities his stories speak about/over.  But he didn’t – because obviously it's easier and more comfortable to keep being lazy, keep relying on his colleagues to carry him, to not question his own biases/privileges and then lie when caught.  And with the money he makes, and all the second chances and new jobs he keeps getting handed, what incentive does he have to change that behaviour? 

So, personally I don’t buy his attempts to position himself as an UwU Nice Guy Ally whose haters are taking him out of context and whose nasty publishers keep forcing him to do incoherent bigotry.  He’s a grown-up, who can own his own behaviour.  And, even with a generous reading, this is at best the behaviour of a fair-weather sell-out who is willing to abandon his principles at the slightest hint of pressure from above.  That is not what respect looks like.  I wanted to give him good faith, but in light of all this, I find I can no longer trust him to keep his word or be honest about his intentions.

This is kind of the other reason why I choose not to support or engage with YJ Phantoms (or the revival in general): on top of being utterly disinterested, I just don’t want to incentivise this kind of creative behaviour with more money or attention.  I also can’t ignore what could be a pattern where Weisman makes grand promises that he likely never has a plan or intent to fulfill, then deliberately leaves holes/timeskips/inconsistencies in his narratives in order to generate ongoing demand for separate-purchase side content which promises to “fill those gaps”… but which never does because there isn’t actually a plan to facilitate that (thus creating an endless cycle of demand and profit).  To me that cuts a little too close to the potential for a privileged creator to be exploiting their clout and the good-faith belief of their fanbase in order to grift those fans out of their time and money.  I don’t find that acceptable.

So, yeah.  Not to deploy the GIF again but:

It'll be a big, fat doughnut on YJ Phantoms content from me 🍩. Sorry!

[eimearkuopio]

Congratulations everyone, we made it! It is currently Tomorrow. Make a note: 16:07 BST, Saturday 26th October 2024. But blink and you'll miss it and it will just be a regular old Today again. 💜💚🩷

she checks the floor vents every day to see if the furnace is on yet and today was the day :)

[aizenat]

There is this girl I went to hs with and the nicest way I can say this is this girl was smart but not particularly so, and had a high sense of self despite being remarkably average. Again, that's the nicest way I can say that. She also got very triggered whenever I was better at her than something (in all fairness, she was like that with anyone better than her, but my friend caught her shit talking me once when I was the only person in my English class to get an A on my Catcher in the Rye essay--something I expected simply because I'm a writer, was then, and I never once got anything less than A on an essay my entire hs career--and that pissed me off particularly because my writing is the ONE thing in this world I can truly say I do better than most people).

Anyway, I learned a while ago that she moved to Boston, and she was associated with Harvard in some way. Without getting too into it, she works there in the weirdest and most random department (not as a professor or anything meaningful or prestigious, which will make sense in a second), doing basically admin shit it seems. I was curious because she's still listed on their site and it says she's been there for like eleven years. I was wondering if she ended up going there as a student in something, but without a linkden or something, I couldn't see. But every time I googled her name and the school, the only thing that came up was her staffing position. No information to indicate she was a student.

Which is funny. I looked up to see if you can go to Harvard for free if you work there, and the do have a reimbursement program, but you'd only get like 75% of fees back, so you'd still have to come out of pocket. And this is an IVY, so that's going to be pretty. And considering what she does, I can't imagine it paying that much where she could easily afford it. Maybe she does take classes and is slowly working her way to some kinda degree, but I doubt it. I feel like she'd at least be able to brag by now given how long she's been there (the site fucking says when she started lol).

Either way, the reason this is funny to me is because she was never even close or talented or impressive enough to anyone let alone college admissions to get into a school like Harvard (I know for a fact she didn't get in in hs lol), and transferring into schools is typically easier, she didn't get her degrees from there according to the site. So I just lowkey find it funny because the closest she'd ever get to Harvard is not as a student or even as someone brought in to teach, but by getting some admin job and sticking around long enough to get her picture on the school's site. She looks so proud in her Harvard shirt, thinking she finally "made it" but never in a way that would actually impress everyone.

It just all feels very fitting for her. In the right spaces to be around more impressive people while being overwhelmingly mediocre her own damn self lol.

[jeniffercheck]

sorry ur sunk cost fallacy post intrigued me and im scrolling through ur blog now and i need to know which yj character ur talking about in the tags bc i feel the exact same way abt miss matthews unfortunately like love the material! don’t love the fanon interpretation!

it was about miss matthews

[thelostconsultant]

Not a gold digger

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Fans think you only want Max's money. But as it turns out, you were wealthy before he came into your life--you just don't make it obvious.

warnings: No smut, but there's a part that makes me say MDNI.

note: So... I'm kinda back? Idk, I'll see if I'll stick around.

The toxicity of the fandom was becoming quite entertaining, really. It was the third time since you and Max had made your relationship public half a year ago that someone started an anti gold digger campaign to protect your boyfriend. They truly believed they were doing this for a greater good, and they all begged Max for his attention.

It always began after they sniffed out he had given you something expensive as a gift or took you shopping to a luxury boutique. While there were some people who tried to protect you by pointing out that maybe he enjoyed showering you with gifts, the rest didn't care about that. 

You lived in a small apartment back home, you were driving a five years old Renault SUV, and no one knew what you did for a living. This was enough to enrage them and make them believe all you wanted was Max's money at the end of the day. Just think about the way she's looking at him, one of them wrote about two months ago, she's so clearly not in love with him. Poor Max, someone please save him. 

Ridiculous.

“Is everything okay?” he asked when he got home and kissed the top of your head. 

You were sitting in his sim rig, using the time while it was free to practice, because you wanted to play with him when you weren't here together, and he was more than happy to show you the basics. “Someone started another campaign to cancel me,” you replied casually as you got out with his help. 

Even when you were standing in front of him, he didn't let go of your hand, instead he raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on its back. “Gold digging?” You nodded with a sad look on your face, but less than five seconds later you were both laughing. “Look, I know you're having way too much fun with this, but–”

Without waiting for him to finish, you raised your hand to make him stop. “I'm not stepping out of the shadows, Max. I've been hiding for years, even fucking Forbes doesn't know my real name or face,” you told him.

Back in the old days, when Bitcoin appeared, your geeky uncle had gotten into mining and trading it. He knew the potential, so he put most of his savings into buying them, then he held onto them, and by the time he got sick years later, he knew they were valuable and would be worth a lot more in the upcoming years. In his will, he left his savings and his wallet to you, giving you the chance to use them as you wished since you had learned everything about crypto from him.

So now you had Bitcoin as well as old fashioned investments, and you had used your money to help out an up-and-coming tech company for a forty percent share, and it was later sold to a tech giant for a lot of money. But despite your wealth, you chose to stay under the radar, because you loved your small apartment, and you weren't about to trade it for some fancy penthouse. 

You had met Max the year before in Las Vegas. F1 was a sport you watched with your uncle while he was still alive, and you were hell-bent on getting a VIP pass for the weekend. If you asked your boyfriend, he would say it was love at first sight, but in reality he was just annoyed by you. For a solid ten seconds, he would correct you every time you talked about it.

You agreed that you would hide in Max's apartment until this latest campaign died down, which gave you some time to spend together in peace. Every now and then you checked the tags to see how things were going, and after the silence of the past few days, today your name was trending again. Ready to have a good laugh, you opened the tag, but the most popular post gave you a minor stroke.

“Oh, fuck me,” you yelled as you launched your phone into the couch.

Max pulled the headset down to his neck as he looked over at you. “Is everything okay?” You raised your finger to your lips as if you wanted him to stay quiet, but luckily he got the message. “I'm muted. So?”

You grabbed your phone and went over to him. “They know. One of those idiots from the company I helped back in the day posted a tweet to protect me, saying that if it wasn't for me being an angel investor, they wouldn't be millionaires now,” you summarized as you gave him the device.

He scrolled through a series of tweets, and found a post from a journalist of Forbes in which he promised a proper investigative piece based on this info. He handed you the phone, then wrapped an arm around your waist. “It's okay, schatje. I know that's not what you wanted, but maybe they'll stop with the recurring hate campaign now,” he tried. “And if you’re worried about the article… Don’t be. There is nothing compromising about you. Yes, you inherited the money, but you have proven you know what to do with it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted with a sigh. 

“I’m usually right. C’mere,” he said as he reached out to pull you closer, but you glanced over at the camera. Rolling his eyes, he quickly turned it off, then gave you an expectant look. “Will you hug me now? And I want a kiss too.”

With a laugh, you leaned down to wrap your arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss. But he wanted more, his hand slowly sneaked under your shorts, his fingers running over your clothed cunt before he decided to pull your panties aside and dip a finger between your folds. You moaned into the kiss, but he pulled away a second later to lick his finger clean. 

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you patted his shoulder and walked back to the couch. You could feel Max’s eyes on you the whole time, and when you looked at him again, he flashed a devilish smile at you. “I should quit the stream. Now that I had a taste, I want more,” he told you. 

“I’m not going anywhere, just try to be patient.”

He looked back at the screen, then put the headset back on his head and unmuted his mic. “Sorry, I have to go. See you next time,” he told the others, then logged out. You couldn’t remember the last time he left the sim rig this fast, and only a few seconds later he was kneeling in front of you, eagerly reaching up to pull your shorts off you.

liked by user1, user2 and 947,896 others

f1gossips: Breaking news! Turns out Max Verstappen's girlfriend isn't a gold digger after all as she has her own fortune according to the investigative article published by Forbes. Will the fans apologize?

view all comments

user2: And here I was, thinking she's just a greedy airhead...

user3: Easy to be wealthy with your uncle's money.

↳ user4: Have you read the whole thing? She invested the money and helped out several startups--that later became pretty successful--as an angel investor. Yes, maybe she inherited a lot of money, but she knows what to do with it.

↳ user5: May I remind you how many F1 drivers started their careers with their families's money?

user6: Told you she wasn't a gold digger. Suck it, haters.

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,577,353 others

maxverstappen1: If you don't buy your girlfriend gifts every once in a while, you're a bad boyfriend. I love to spoil her, it's not a crime. I love her, I'm proud of her, and you can send us as much hate as you want, it will only make us stronger.

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: I'd be perfectly fine without the gifts, I already told you.

↳ maxverstappen1: I don't care.

landonorris: You're absolutely right!

↳ maxverstappen1: You're single, how would you know?

↳ landonorris: Just FYI, I've been in relationships before.

danielricciardo: You're so disgustingly smitten with her. (I love you both.)

[lilacnothlit]

Most dedicated Larpers ever written.

Stephenie Meyer's sci-fi novel The Host is like. it's almost so much. the alien bodysnatchers at the center of the plot are like Animorph's yeerks if they got really into cottagecore. no, they don't want intergalactic war and domination! they want intergalactic peace and domination! they make every planet they visit a peaceful socialist utopia and like, okay, yes, they have to violently take over the bodies of a planet's native inhabitants to do it. yes, they have to suppress the unwilling minds of their host bodies. yes they are for all intents and purposes committing a genocide of their chosen planets' initial inhabitants and then puppeting their husks around playing at homogeneous, sanitized versions of the cultures they destroyed. the alien main character mentions that even episodes of the Brady Bunch were scrubbed because they were deemed too violent. and they call themselves souls, which is so loaded on so many levels. impossible not to read into the spiritual connotations, especially when written by an author coming from the mormon church which so highly values mission trips. just by sympathizing with humans who don't want to be possessed, by helping them hide out and stay free, our protagonist becomes a pariah, an outlaw from her own society. peace is valued above all else but not peace for the colonized, who are meat to be processed. it's better this way. they had so much potential but squandered it with foolish violence so now we have the right to overtake them and make them live correctly. isn't it beautiful now? isn't everything perfect? there's like almost so much happening in this story except Stephenie's a fucking mormon so she never draws any meaningful connections to anything and the happy ending is that the alien brain parasite protag is gifted the body of a beautiful coma patient that she can "ethically" puppet around, easy peasy problem solved. also there's a fucking love triangle.

[reilemon]

🫧Love Don't Be Shy🫧

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex (as always), there's only one bed, sex toys, pulling out

♡︎word count: 2.9k

♡︎synopsis: Rafayel finds your mini "neck massager" while going through your makeup bag.

♡︎a/n: I hope you guys like how I wrote Rafayel.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. You have to share the bed with your friend (employee?) Rafayel. You just nod when Rafayel checks with you if it's okay, and of course you agree because you don't want to go around searching for another hotel.

The last time you had to share a room, and the bed, you barely got any sleep as he was tossing and turning all night, stealing the duvet in consequence. You couldn't be too mad at him as you know how messed up his sleep schedule is. Also, he was so sweet for remembering your comment how you wished to see a certain spot at that place.

This time is no different; he organized this little trip for you to make good use of your vacation days. He researched all the restaurants that you'd like, shops that he'd like, fun and interesting places to visit, and always takes the best seats in the airplane. But he always forgets to book two rooms in advance!

It's not that bad, you tell yourself. You're very comfortable around Rafayel; he makes you feel safe and he adores spending time with you. It's just that you have your own night routine. And you can't do it with him in the same room.

Oh well, the vacation will fly by quickly.

Even with this little inconvenience, you wish it won't. Not because you don't want to get back to work, but because you also adore spending time with him. And lately, with every meeting you hope to become more than just friends (more than just an artist and his bodyguard).

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

After unpacking Rafayel and you go outside to grab a quick bite at the city centre. Of course that turns into an impromptu shopping spree because the two of you stumbled upon a vintage flea market.

You drag your feet as Rafayel almost skips next to you, bags with little trinkets in his hands. It's a beautiful summer afternoon, with a refreshing breeze. You'd enjoy it more if there weren't so many people around.

He glances at your 'energetic' walk. "C'mon Miss Bodyguard, we had a good time there!"

You chuckle. "Sure, if you can call 'talking you out of buying everything you see' a good time."

"But everything was so beautiful!"

"Yes, but think of the luggage!"

He shifts his bags to one hand and offers you the free one with a soft smile. "Give me your hand. I don't want to get lost."

He says that, but he's the one leading you through the crowd.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

You had to take a little nap after coming back to your room, because Rafayel had more things planned for this evening, and you needed the energy. You wanted to look and feel good because you actually looked forward to it. You might've even bought some new outfits that you thought he'd like, even though he gives you compliments no matter how much effort you put into your appearance.

While you were asleep, Rafayel took a long shower.

When you awoke, you found him in your room with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

You blush and avert your gaze, opting to just not comment on it. "Are you at least wearing underwear?" You commented on it.

He looks down, like he forgot about his state of almost-undress. "I do. Wanna check?" His hand resting on the towel knot.

Your hand immediately shoots up to cover your view of whatever he's about to show you. "It's fine! I just didn't expect this to be the first thing I see after a nap!"

He laughs and strolls towards the closet. "You saw me in a bathing suit plenty of times. This towel covers more."

You can't help but sneak a peek at his toned back while he's picking out an outfit. For someone who claims to hate working out, he's more than fit. You can clearly see the way his muscles are carved under his pale still damp skin and the way they flex as he moves. As he turns around, you can’t help but crave to graze your hand over his defined abs and those veins leading down to -

"Like what you see?"

Caught red handed, you snap your head in the opposite direction, your face burning with embarrassment.

"I'll go take a shower." You mumble as you snatch your underwear and a nightdress from a drawer and escape to the bathroom, blushing even more as you catch Rafayel's mischievous laugh.

⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ა 🪼 ໒꒱⋆ ˚｡⋆

Refreshed, and not at all embarrassed anymore, you emerge from the bathroom to get your makeup bag. You don't know whether to put the outfit on before the makeup, or the other way around...

Your brain short circuits when your eyes land on Rafayel holding your makeup bag in one hand - and your mini vibrator in the other.

He holds it up and studies it "Is this like a mini neck massager?"

You're frozen in place. Your body is discovering new levels of embarrassment.

Hearing nothing from you, his attention shifts to your figure. You don't register the way his eyes admire you in your little nightdress. "Well?" He presses the little button and the little buzzing sound hits your ears like crashing waves of sweat hitting your body.

He's teasing you. He has got to be teasing you. Like he always is. There's no way he thinks this is for his neck!

"Give it back." You croak, your throat dry.

"Why? You don't want to show me how to use it?" He's really going through with this little bit.

"Why were you even going through my makeup bag?"

He explains how he forgot to pack some cream and wanted to borrow it from you, or something like that, you barely listened because he was not letting go of the little bullet vibrator. He's put down the makeup bag, but not the toy!

The buzzing gets stronger as Rafayel's finger presses the button multiple times. "So, which setting is the best?"

He flinches as you basically hurl yourself towards him to take back what's yours. He holds it in the air, away from your reach.

"What's up with you?" his eyebrows knot, cheeks lightly red at the close proximity.

"Give it back!"

Finding your frustration confusing but at the same time cute and amusing, he continues to keep it out of your reach, letting you chase him around the room.

"Nuh - uh!" he laughs and turns to you, only for his face to be met with a white fluffy pillow.

You smacked him across the face, not too hard of course; you're still his body guard. You earn a little 'hey!' with a flushed face and to defend himself, he puts the toy in his pocket and grabs his own pillow. You didn't even notice how good his outfit looked.

The two of you end up in a brief pillow fight - mostly him taking hits while you managed to dodge most of them. But then Rafayel swiftly snatches your pillow, and pins you down on the bed, holding your wrists in his hand and resting his knees on the bed.

He asks, out of breath "Is it not a neck massager?" While you were in a pillow fight he caught on how red your face is and how that shape doesn't seem like it's for the neck.

You struggle under him, aware of how your nightdress lifted under the impact, and how your breasts are on the verge of spilling out. A small whine leaves your lips in frustration as he's so much stronger than you.

"Yes! It's my vibrator, okay?" you can't meet his gaze. You're sure you look so damn pathetic right now.

But you don't see the delight in Rafayel's eyes as he takes in your cute flushed pouting face. He can't help but take a peek of your figure under him, the way your tits are barely covered, the hem of your dress lifted to show off your plush thighs pressed together.

He releases his hold on you and sits back, still straddling you. "Is that why you were upset over one room? You could've just told me and I would've taken a walk or something. Maybe even get you a snack to replenish your energy."

You could not be more mortified. Your eyes are still fixed somewhere to the side and your lips don't move.

His fingers softly hold your chin and you muster the courage to look him in the eyes. You notice how messy his curls are. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." He reassures you with a soft smile, and hands you over the wretched thing.

And you loved that about Rafayel - he knew when to stop teasing and when it's time to give you reassurance.

Still, you needed your little revenge.

It doesn't matter that he's stronger than you, you still have your hunter skills, and in a blink of an eye, you switch positions, straddling his lap.

He opens his mouth to make some dirty joke but only a yelp gets out when you suddenly press the buzzing toy on his side while locking his wrists with your hand.

He pleads for mercy as you continue to run the vibrator on second to highest setting all over his torso.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, and heat pools between your legs as his whimpers and gasps keep leaving his plump lips and his body squirms under you, his crotch grazing your bottom.

Flustered and out of breath, Rafayel had enough of the torture and pins you down again - pressing you in the same position you had him in, but with his knee so dangerously close to your clothed heat.

"You're being cruel, kitten." he breathes, his tone a little too calm for your liking.

He takes the toy from you and starts sliding it down the middle of your belly, the contact making you squirm and laugh a little. "I was being supportive here and you go and start torturing me."

"I was embarrassed!" you scream between laughs and pants.

He complains in his playful manner about how you attacked him while he was so confused, you can barely hear him over your involuntarily laughs. In your squirms and attempts to break free, your core grinds more than once against his knee and upper thigh.

And maybe he's inching his knee closer to you.

You open your eyes when you don't feel the tickles anymore. You're met with his soft hooded eyes.

"I want to make it up to you, darling."

He studies your face as his hand moves up and a gasp leaves your lips as it lightly grazes the underside of your breast over with the vibrating toy.

He repeats the same motion on the other breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

You sheepishly shake your head.

The grip on your wrists loosens, but you let him hold you down.

Finally, he gives attention to your already pebbled nipples, carefully rubbing circles around them. His eyes take in your flushed face - beautiful lips parted as you pant underneath him, eyes veiled with lust and desperation for more, sensitive nipples poking through the thin fabric of your nightdress.

Your panties are damp with the attention on your nipples and core grinding against his knee. And with Rafayel on top of you, with his cheeks flushed, messy hair and half lidded eyes gazing at you with adoration, you crave more.

He doesn't need to read your thoughts to know what you need. Your hips are desperately pressing against him, soaked panties leaving a wet patch on his pants.

A playful smirk stretches his lips, but he fights the urge to tease you. Instead, his hand trails down, avoiding your tummy this time, and presses the toy on your inner thigh, earning a jolt from your legs and a whimper from your lips. With his slender fingers, he lifts up the hem of your dress, exposing your panties.

You feel his knee move back, but still touching your clothed heat. Pressing the button for the lowest setting, he places the vibrating tip of the toy right between your folds, the familiar sensation of the vibrator making you moan. Only it's different now, because Rafayel is the one pressing it against you, the one making you feel so good, which makes you cream, your heart beating against your chest, your face and chest burning with need and desire.

With more confidence, Rafayel starts pressing and slowly rubbing your sensitive bud. "You like that princess? Does it feel good?"

You frantically nod, your pussy already throbbing with an impending orgasm. "Just like that!" You manage to breathe out.

His cock is painfully hard in his boxers, straining in his tight pants. He feels like he could cum just watching your beautiful face dazed with lust and listening to your sinful moans. Soft pants are leaving his lips "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He releases your wrists to rest his elbow next to your head and he dips down, latching his lips with yours. You reciprocate immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck, relishing in the feeling of finally tasting his gorgeous pink lips.

Both of you are a panting mess, kissing sloppily, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth as your tongue intertwines with his.

And all of this is becoming too much for you, and you already feel the coil in your stomach is about to snap any second. You snatch the collar of his shirt, probably ripping from how tight you're gripping it. "Don't stop, I'm cummin' - !"

He watches you in awe as you tremble and mewl underneath him, unable to kiss him back as the waves of your release overtake you. His lips latch onto your neck as he uses his thumb and knee to help you come down from your high. His breath is trembling as he sucks and licks the sensitive skin on your neck, his face burning and cock throbbing.

He almost whines in your ear "Please, please princess, I need to fuck you so bad..."

Your fingers interlace with his messy curls and he lifts up his head to meet your eyes. His cheeks and ears are burning red, eyes pleading and hooded with lust.

You softly whisper "I need you."

The same second he hears those words, his working hand frantically works his belt and the pants, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as his hot leaking cock is freed. He wants to take his sweet time with you, worshipping you, but he's already on the brink.

And you're so impatient; you pull your panties to the side and take his cock in your hand and tease the tip against your dripping pussy, the action making the man above you whimper.

"Fuck, princess!" He moves your hand away and squeezes the angry red tip. "Watching you got me so worked up, I don't think I'm gonna last long." He admits with a weak smile.

You pull him into a soft kiss "That's okay, you already made me cum so hard."

He kisses your lips and slowly starts sliding in, a gasp leaving both of your lips. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut as he eases into your sopping cunt.

You bite his delicious bottom lip as he buries himself to the hilt, your walls fluttering around his cock and you feel like you're about to cum again. You release his bottom lip and you move onto kissing his jaw and neck. Fuck, he smells so good.

He stays still as he tries to hold onto his sanity. His hot breath fans over your ear "You're squeezing me so hard, doll."

You wiggle your hips and press his lower back, urging him to start moving. Exhaling a shaky breath, his hips slowly start rolling, yours moving at the same pace. Mewls and moans are leaving your lips, as his cock keeps stroking the sweet spot inside you, glazing his length in your slick.

Rafayel needs to make you cum around his cock, but he’s already so painfully close, with your wet walls squeezing him so hard, your pretty lips on his neck and your bewitching voice in his ear.

He was so captivated by you that he almost forgot about the little toy lying next to you.

Your eyes widen when you see him snatch the toy and turns it on to a higher setting and props himself up, angling his hips to reach your swollen and twitching bundle of nerves. Intense shocks of pleasure take over your body as he starts rubbing the vibrator again, and in seconds you're a whimpering mess as his cock thrusts into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot, and his hand pressing the toy on your clit.

"Raf - I -" Is all you manage to say before another orgasm overtakes you, your breath catching in your throat and for a second you think you're going to pass out. You can barely hear Rafayel's soothing and strained whispers of you how gorgeous you are and how pretty you sound.

But hear him whimper "I'm gonna cum, princess."

He tosses the drenched vibrator to the side and with a squelching sound pulls out of you, and your hips twitch as he presses the tip against your still throbbing clit as he jerks himself off, ropes of hot cum spilling all over your belly and drenched cunt. You’re thankful he pulled up your dress in the process, but you wouldn’t mind if he stained it.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breath, he puts his weight on you and you wrap your arms around his back squeezing him tight.

He peppers you with soft kisses all over your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. His fingers caress your face.

He chuckles with that playful smirk on his lips. "I should snoop around your stuff more often."

[crystallinestars]

Comforting you when you're sad

Headcanons about the Genshin boys comforting you when you're feeling down for whatever reason.

I don't know what I wrote but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Characters: Venti, Lyney, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Wanderer, Kaveh

Venti

🍃 When Venti first sees the sullen expression on your face, his cheerful smile wanes into concerned curiosity as he asks what happened to make you so sad. He doesn’t want to force you to answer if you would rather not talk about it, but he can tell the sadness is weighing heavy on your heart, so he takes you home and asks one more time what happened. His words and voice are gentle, his gaze tender as he cups and strokes your cheek, hoping to make you comfortable enough to open up to him.

🍃 His gentle coaxing works to make your guard crumble and the tears you held back come streaming down your cheeks. Venti isn’t used to comforting crying people, but he hugs you, letting you cry into his shoulder while stroking your head, letting you know it’s okay to cry. He doesn’t say a word until your crying fit subsides into hiccups and sniffles, and only then does he let his voice be heard as he softly hums a lullaby he once overheard a mother sing to a crying child a long time ago.

🍃 When you’ve calmed down, Venti asks what you want to do. He'll stay with you if you would rather stay home to keep you company, however, he thinks it would do you some good to go out instead of staying cooped up in these four walls. If you agree to go outside, Venti will stroll around the city market, trying to entice you with this item or that. Do you want to check out the knickknacks at Marjorie’s? Or the new potions Timaeus is brewing? Or what about that one dish at the Good Hunter you’ve always wanted to try but never got around to? Venti would buy them all for you—his treat! He would even brave his cat allergy and stop by the Cat’s Paw so you can try one of Diona’s special concoctions. Venti acts peppy and cheery throughout the impromptu date, hoping to lift your dampened mood with his enthusiasm.

🍃 If the little date doesn’t do the trick to cheer you up, then Venti drags you outside the city walls. Leading you by the hand, Venti brings you to the open grassy plains of Windrise and beckons you to take in the world around you. Look at that beautiful blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. Feel the wind play with your hair and hear the rustling of leaves in the great oak tree. Walk along the beach with him while smelling the salty ocean breeze and splashing water at each other as if you were little children. Climb the oak tree at Windrise and watch the squirrels and birds that call it their home scurry about in the branches. Lay in the grass and watch the starry sky with him while he strums a soothing song on his lyre that he composed just for you.

🍃 It's not a guarantee his method will work, but Venti hopes this outing can help you feel free from whatever burdens you. Despite his youthful appearance and demeanor, Venti is an old soul who has seen and experienced his fair share of suffering. He is aware that sadness sticks around far longer than joy, for such is the human condition, but he also knows that it shouldn’t overshadow everything in life. Though life can beat you down and Venti may not be able to solve your problems, there is so much more to the world than the little bubble you confine yourself to.

Lyney

🎩 Lyney’s expression lights up when he sees you from afar, but the tired look in your eyes and the weak smile you give him tell the magician you’re feeling down. He looks at you in concern and gently asks if something is wrong to make you so down. He attentively listens if you want to share the reason, and lets the conversation go if you don’t want to talk about it, but either way, he wants to distract you from your negative feelings.

🎩 Lyney has the most experience dealing with Lynette’s sour moods, so out of habit he brings you to a café and lets you order anything you want from the menu, offering to pay for it. He lets you talk if you want to vent or if you want to stay quiet, he fills the silence with funny stories about people he saw in the streets of Fontaine.

🎩 Though he appears his usual chipper self, in reality, he’s worried about you. If spending time with him isn’t enough to brighten your mood, Lyney drops his cheery façade and gently takes your hands in his. With a concerned look, he persuades you to at the very least stop bottling up your emotions and depend on him. As an older brother, he feels a lot of responsibility to care for those he loves, and that responsibility also extends to you.

🎩 Once he sees that his words touched your heart and you’re on the verge of tears, he escorts you to a private alleyway where you can cry freely without the prying eyes of passersby. Lyney hugs you close and whispers words of comfort in your ear, letting you cry into his shoulder. He has a lot of experience comforting Lynette and his siblings at the orphanage, so Lyney knows what to do to support you during your most vulnerable moment. His reassurances help calm you down, and he wipes your tears away with a handkerchief. Though it saddens him to see you so upset, he’s also grateful that you opened up to him about your feelings.

🎩 Afterward, Lyney offers to take you to play with his animal assistants. He teaches you how to feed them, and watches you play with his animals, seeing you gradually relax and give a small smile as a pigeon coos and cuddles into your hand.

🎩 Alternatively, Lyney might invite you to a private magic show; one he designed for your eyes only. The magician brings you to his room in the orphanage where the two of you can be alone and he has access to his props. With a cheeky smirk and flourish of his hand, Lyney materializes a Rainbow Rose from thin air and hands it to you, telling you to keep your eyes on him. He begins his performance, narrating it like any regular show even though you’re the sole audience member. Lyney shows off all the tricks he is certain you haven’t seen before, even mixing in some new ones he hasn’t quite perfected but included anyway. He injects a dramatic and comedic flair into the performance in the hopes of making you laugh. Once you do, Lyney grins, pleased he could make you feel better. In his mind, laughter is the best cure for sadness.

Kaeya

❄️ When Kaeya catches a glimpse of you, he is instantly able to tell you’re out of sorts. Though you smile at him, it’s weak and does a poor job of masking the sorrow in your eyes. You’re clearly not as okay as you try to seem, but Kaeya is unsure of how to help you feel better. He’s not used to comforting people. His only experiences are helping crying children find their parents during crowded festivals, and clumsily bandaging Diluc’s scrapes when they were little. But you are neither a child nor his sworn brother, so he momentarily feels lost about how to help you.

❄️ Such delicate situations are not Kaeya’s forte, but as your boyfriend, he wants to help you feel better. So, he steels himself and, in his usual teasing lilt, inquires what happened to make you look so sour. Though he sounds playful, Kaeya takes your feelings seriously, so when you look like you’re about to cry, he quickly escorts you somewhere private.

❄️ When you break down, he’s at a loss for what to do since he’s never had to comfort anyone like this before. Then, a memory surfaces in his mind of when Adelinde hugged him as a crying child, so he hesitantly wraps you up in a loose embrace, mimicking her hug the best he could. It’s a foreign feeling, holding you while you cry into his shoulder. He feels helpless just standing there with your shaking body in his arms, but he also knows it’s the best he can do for you right now, so he gently rubs your back the way Adelinde did for him all those years ago and hopes it helps you the way it did him.

❄️ Kaeya stays quiet until your crying fit subsides. He’s unsure of what to say as you slowly collect yourself, but he softly asks if you want to go drinking. Perhaps some alcohol from the Angel’s Share can help you feel better? If you agree, Kaeya takes you to the tavern where you share a drink and watch a bard perform a heroic epic about an adventurer. Alternatively, if you like cats, Kaeya brings you to the Cat’s Paw to play with the cats there and get a specialty drink from Diona (his treat). He also coerces you into a few rounds of TCG and pretends to play fairly but purposely loses to give you the wins in the hopes that the little victories would brighten your mood.

❄️ If you don’t want to drink, then Kaeya invites you over to the Dawn Winery. It feels strange to bring you to his childhood home when he hasn’t lived there in years, but he’s hoping that Adelinde could help. Ever since the head maid found out that Kaeya had a lover, she had asked for details about you, but Kaeya refused to disclose much of anything. Questions about his love life from someone he saw as a mother figure made him shy, so he avoided talking about you.

❄️ As he expected, Adelinde was overjoyed to finally meet you and she welcomed you inside just as warmly as she did Kaeya. She whips up a delicious dinner for your pair and spends the evening chatting with you, asking you about yourself and sharing all of Kaeya’s childhood stories that he never told you about, especially the funny ones much to his chagrin. The homey atmosphere and fun conversation do the trick to take your mind off of whatever bothered you, and though it came at Kaeya’s expense, he was happy to see you smiling like your usual self again.

Alhaitham

🎧 Upon your arrival home, Alhaitham’s brows pinch together in concern when he sees you looking down. He doesn’t pry into what happened, preferring for you to tell him what was wrong when you were ready to talk about it. However, if you don’t share the reason behind your sadness, and your mood doesn’t improve or grows worse, the Scribe gently calls out to you and tactfully asks what happened in a calm and gentle tone.

🎧 No matter how small the reason, Alhaitham hears you out without judgment, understanding that people can have a bouquet of reactions to situations he may not perceive to be as worthy of his concern. Even if he wouldn’t feel the same as you in your situation, he still tries to understand your point of view and help you deal with your emotions. If Alhaitham finds it applicable, he will offer advice for your situation. However, he is perceptive enough to tell when mere advice won’t help resolve your current mood, and that you require comfort. 

🎧 Alhaitham’s eyes soften, and he gently pulls you into his chest with a simple comment: “Don’t hold it all in. Cry if you need to.” Sometimes, releasing pent-up emotions is what a person needs to feel better, and the Scrobe doesn’t want you to wallow in your misery all alone. He holds you to him while you cry, placing his chin atop your head and lightly stroking your back in comfort without saying a word. 

🎧 His usually calm expression turns somber and his hold on you tightens a little as a dull ache surges through his heart. Alhaitham is not one to become influenced by the emotions of others easily, but despite what some people may think, he is not immune to others’ distress. He doesn’t like seeing others suffer, and seeing you so upset is no exception. Your suffering affects him a little more because he loves you and wants you to be at your best, so he will do everything in his power to help.

🎧 Once your crying fit subsides, Alhaitham lets you choose what you want to do next. If you want some privacy to deal with your emotions, he lets you go and occasionally checks up on you to see how you’re doing. If you say you want to stay with him, Alhaitham fetches a blanket knitted by his late grandmother that she used to wrap him up in and drapes it over you. He brews you a cup of tea before inviting you to read with him on the sofa. Should you choose to join him, Alhaitham will keep an arm around you while reading a book, not interrupting your reading but letting you feel he’s here. 

🎧 If you’re not in the mood to read, then the Scribe cuddles with you on the sofa. He lets you rest your head on his chest, running a hand along your back while holding a book with the other. If you want to hear the sound of his voice, Alhaitham will read the book to you out loud. If you prefer the silence and the sound of his heartbeat, then he stays quiet and holds you until you fall asleep, kissing your forehead once you doze off.

Wanderer

☂️ As soon as Wanderer sees you, he instantly realizes you’re feeling down. Even when you smile and say you’re fine, his perceptive nature makes it easy for him to tell you’re not. As a frank person, Wanderer prefers you to be straightforward about your feelings and wants, so it’s frustrating when you keep things to yourself like this. He frowns and asks what made you act like such a wet blanket, but despite his unfriendly scowl, he remains patient and hears you out.

☂️ What he’s not prepared for is your tears. When you start crying in the middle of your explanation, Wanderer’s frown melts into surprise and then concern before quickly pulling you into a hug. He’s not used to comforting crying people, but a part of Wanderer urges him to comfort you, so he follows his instincts. Soothing words and caresses are not his forte, but Wanderer quietly murmurs for you to stop bottling everything inside and confide in him. Cry if you need to, it’s fine. He’s got you.

☂️ Wanderer’s embrace is both tight yet careful as if he were holding something precious and fragile. The way you felt in his arms was certainly fragile. Shoulders hunched and shaking, muffling your sniffles against his shirt and soaking the fabric with your tears. Something in his chest feels tight when he sees you this broken, and it sparks a desire in him to fix whatever happened to make you this upset. Even if the cause is outside of his power to fix, Wanderer at least wants you to stop crying and go back to your annoying and yet endearing self.

☂️ When you calm down, Wanderer acts more mindful around you. He chooses his words carefully and keeps his tone soft as he tells you it’s normal to be upset in this situation, but you shouldn’t lose hope so easily. Usually, he would be blunter with his words, but with you in such a precarious state, he wants to be careful. He knows his bluntness can sometimes upset people, and the last thing he wants is to make you more upset.

☂️ Wanderer lets you choose what you want to do: do you want to stay home or come with him to a secret place? If you choose to stay home, he tells you to clean yourself up while he busies himself in the kitchen. He whips up a few delicious and hearty dishes and tells you to eat and stop moping when he serves them up. When you point out that these are all your favorite foods, he scoffs and says that it’s all he could make with the ingredients on hand, but reluctantly adds that he thought your favorite foods would help you feel better. If you thank him, he grows flustered and tells you not to because he didn’t do anything special, but it makes him feel happy inside that you appreciated his efforts.

☂️ If you choose to come with him, then Wanderer takes you to a secret place of his. It’s a little vantage point he found in the Lokapala Jungle that looks especially pretty at night, and he wanted to bring you here one day but figured today was as good a day as any. He flies up there with you and lets you take in the view. Surrounding you are various bioluminescent flora that disperse the darkness with their soft glow. Fireflies softly float about your pair as you sit on the soft grass and look up at the star-filled sky. There’s an ethereal beauty to the place that distracts you from your depressing thoughts and lifts your sunken spirits. He stays here with you for as long as you want, chatting about various topics and weaving you a flower crown to remember the occasion by.

Kaveh

🍷 When Kaveh sees your sullen demeanor, he immediately realizes you’re feeling down. He knows what it’s like to suffer from sadness and depression all alone, and he doesn’t want you to deal with such feelings on your own. Though it’s hypocritical of him, the architect wishes that you would confide in him, so gently prompts you to share what happened. Even if you tell him you’re fine, Kaveh won’t buy it but won’t pressure you to tell him.

🍷 However, he worries deeply about your mental well-being, and if he sees no improvements or even a worsening of your mental state, he takes your hand and leads you to the sofa. Kaveh cups your cheek and pleads with you to confide in him. Tell him what’s wrong because he wants to help you feel better so badly, and it frustrates him that he can’t.

🍷 His efforts pay off in making you give in and tell him what happened to make you feel this way. Even if there’s no particular reason for your sadness, Kaveh takes your feelings seriously. He wraps his arms around you in a gentle yet firm hug when you start crying, his expression solemn because seeing you in pain like this makes his heart ache. Kaveh holds you close until you let out all your sadness, whispering reassurances and kissing the top of your head. He strokes your back to comfort you, not caring that you’re soaking his shirt with tears and snot. Your well-being is far more important to him than his clothes.

🍷 Once you calm down, Kaveh dotes on you. He gets you tissues, some water, a blanket—you name it, he’ll bring it. With a gentle smile, Kaveh asks if you want to go out and do something to get your mind off whatever made you sad. If you want to stay home to recuperate from your crying fit, then Kaveh will spend the evening cuddling you and making sure you’re okay.

🍷 If you accept, Kaveh will take you out to Lambad’s Tavern. When life beat him down, he turned to heavy drinking to forget his troubles, and though he doesn’t want you to get plastered the way he did (because it’s bad for your health! He says) he offers to buy you a drink, hoping a light buzz could take the edge off your grief. Even if you don’t drink alcohol, Kaveh buys you a non-alcoholic drink and keeps you company. From his personal experience, sometimes a drink and good company are all you need to feel better, so he chats about various topics and gives advice if you need it. He also listens if you want to vent, offering a sympathetic ear and supportive words.

🍷 If you don’t want to drink, Kaveh takes you out on a stroll around Sumeru city. He surmises that a change of scenery can help take your mind off things, so he takes your hand and walks along the streets, showing you all the spots with pretty views. He comments how each location looks especially beautiful during sunset or at night when the stars are shining in the sky and offers to bring you here later if you want to see that breathtaking view. Afterward, he takes you out for a delicious meal at his expense. Kaveh is more than willing to spend his meager savings on you if it means making you happy. He won’t be able to rest easy unless you feel better, so he pulls out all the stops to try and cheer you up if only a little.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Based on Oliver mentioning Buck and Jee baking together in an upcoming ep.

(I wrote this on my phone so it's not the greatest)

now also on AO3

---

"Is it someone's birthday?" Maddie asked, running through all of their friends and relatives in her mind, trying to figure out if she forgot a birthday.

"No." Buck shook his head and kept pulling ingredients out of the fridge and his kitchen cabinets.

"Ok... What's the occasion then?" she asked when he didn't elaborate.

"It's for Tommy. "

"Oh, is it his birthday?"

"No, not for a few weeks."

"Right. So this is a practice run?"

"What? No. I found the recipe online, but it's easy enough."

"Ok..."

"He likes cake."

"Ok."

Buck sighed and rolled his eyes at his sister before glancing up in the direction of the loft's bedroom.

"He's had a rough couple of days. He had to make an emergency landing because of bad weather yesterday and the ambulance couldn't get to them fast enough and they lost the patient."

"That was him? Josh took that call and he was exhausted from stress by the end of shift."

Buck nodded.

"Tommy too. And he was hurting all over last night. He never takes any pain medication but he took two ibuprofen and a hot shower and crashed into bed."

"Are you sure you're alright to take Jee for the afternoon then? I can ask Mrs Lee or see if she can go play with her friend Emily from down the road. "

"It's fine." Buck told her and turned to Jee. "You're my sous chef aren't you? Are you going to help me today?"

"Yeah!" the girl yelled happily.

"But we have to be quiet ok? Tommy is sleeping upstairs and we don't want to wake him. He needs to sleep because he's sick."

Jee nodded solemnly to show she understood.

"But we're going to surprise him with cake so he'll feel better soon, right?"

"Yeah!" she yelled again, making her mother and uncle laugh.

"At least she's enthusiastic." Maddie tried and bent down to hug and kiss her daughter goodbye. "You be good for uncle Buck, me or daddy will pick you up tonight ok?"

"Ok mommy!" Jee said and climbed up onto the stool next to the kitchen counter.

"Go. We'll be fine." Buck assured her, wrapping an arm around Jee to keep her safe.

After Maddie had left, Buck gave Jee an old shirt of his to wear as apron, made her wash her hands, and the two of them got to work.

He tried to let her do as much as possible while still making sure everything was going to plan and she wouldn't hurt herself.

Before long the cake was in the oven and they started the clean up.

"And when it's done baking, we let it cool off a little and then we can put the icing on and decorate it with these." he showed Jee the assortment of sprinkles he kept in his kitchen for her.

Jee nodded happily and started planning out her sprinkles masterpiece.

Buck looked up towards the bedroom area and listened for a sign of life from his boyfriend.

When he didn't hear anything, he decided to put Jee in front of the TV and go check on him. Tommy was fast asleep, rolled up in the duvet like a human burrito, and didn't seem to have woken up since Buck had made him eat something that morning.

Satisfied everything was ok, he went back downstairs and let Jee tell him all about the cartoon she was watching, until the cake was ready for decoration.

"Which ones do you want to put on first? Pink or gold?"

"Gold!"

"Alright, gold it is. Put it on where you think is best." Buck told her. "But not too much, we need to leave room for the other colours. And we can put your name on it. And mine."

"And uncle Tommy." she decided and Buck froze for a second.

Sure Tommy and Jee had met and he'd explained to her that Tommy was to him what mommy and daddy were to each other, and he was pretty sure she'd understood, but to hear her call him uncle Tommy, that was new.

Jee didn't seem to notice just how much she'd just turned his world upside down and was babbling about what colour sprinkles should go where.

"Pink here for the heart." she decided and Buck wondered when they'd agreed on heart shaped decorations.

"Right, yeah, that... that works." he let Jee draw a heart in pink sprinkles and dutifully wrote his and Tommy's names in it. "And where should I write your name?"

Jee thought for a minute and studied the cake but then shook her head.

"No name."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Jee said like it was the most obvious thing in the world and put some sugar stars across the top half of the cake, above the heart with their names. "That's the sky. With stars."

"Oh wow, that's beautiful miss Jee, did you make that?"

Buck jumped a little when he suddenly heard his boyfriend's voice behind him and felt a hand on his waist.

"Uncle Buck helped" Jee told Tommy.

"Did he now? I'm sure you did all of the important work." Tommy said and gave her a conspiratory wink before turning to Buck and stealing a small kiss. "Hey." he greeted him softly.

"H-hey... Did we wake you?"

Tommy shook his head.

"It's fine. Had to get up eventually."

"Feeling better yet?"

Tommy shrugged and sat down at the kitchen island.

"I'm alright." he just said, which wasn't really an answer but Buck decided to let it go for now.

"Uncle Tommy, it's for you. You need to come look!" Jee insisted, pointing at the cake.

Tommy met Buck's eyes over her head and mouthed "Uncle Tommy?" at him.

Buck shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Tommy, come see!" Jee said again, a little louder this time, clearly getting fed up with the adults in her life.

"Why don't you two come here and show me, and you can tell me what you made."

Buck helped her down from her stool and put the cake on the island in front of Tommy before helping Jee back on her stool, this time sitting next to Tommy who immediately put a hand on her back so she wouldn't fall off.

"This is the sky with the stars." she started like she was explaining the mysteries of the universe. "And you can fly to the stars."

Tommy laughed a little.

"I don't think I can go quite that high in my helicopter. But maybe I can show you how high I do go. When you're a little older. And your mommy and daddy are ok with it. Maybe uncle Evan will want to come too."

Jee-Yun turned to Buck and gave him an expectant look.

"Yeah, maybe." he settled on, trying to get his heart to calm down and not burst out of his chest hearing his boyfriend make plans with his niece. Even if she was only three and would probably have forgotten about it by the time she was old enough to even think about going up.

She seemed happy with that answer and turned back to Tommy to explain the rest of their creation.

"It's really amazing Jee, it's almost too pretty to eat don't you think?"

"No. You have to eat it. It's chocolate." she said as if that explained everything.

"Oh really? I do love chocolate." Tommy told her. "But can I take a picture of it before we eat it?" he reached into the pocket of his sweats only to realise he'd left his phone upstairs. "Evan, can you take a picture and send it to me?"

"Sure." he grabbed his phone and opened the camera. "You should be in the picture too, we made it for you after all."

Tommy dutifully posed with the cake, tilting the pan towards the camera so the decorations were clearly visible.

"And now one with the master chef herself." he put the cake back down on the table and moved a little closer to Jee so they'd both fit in the picture with the cake and Buck took a few pictures.

After that Jee insisted on having a photo shoot, and by the time Maddie came to pick her back up, his camera roll was filled with pictures of the three of them.

He showed a few to Maddie at Jee's insistence and set one of Tommy making a funny face at Jee as his new contact picture.

They said goodbye to Maddie and Jee-yun and settled on the sofa together, scrolling through the pictures and laughing at some of silly ones.

"I like this one." Buck said, stopping at a selfie of the two of them where Tommy had kissed his cheek at the last second.

"Yeah. Me too." Tommy said softly, not really looking at the picture. "Thanks. For today. For getting me out of my head."

Buck smiled and kissed him.

"Of course."

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

cupid's chokehold

pairing: damnation! leon x reader

tags/cws: ddlg, free use, spit kink

summary: leon is reluctant to try ddlg... until he's not

a/n: can you tell I wrote this one for me?

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.8k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @rigorwhoring @withonly-sweetheart

Leon wasn't so keen on the idea at first.

"I can't decide if I'm too old or too young for this."

He's too old to play games but too young for fatherhood. He's a grouch with an aching back but a stubbornness that makes him insist on doing everything himself. That's pretty fatherly, isn't it?

Plus, he's already fairly dominant in bed, and can get kind of kinky if he gets drunk enough, but most of that comes down to one of you putting something in the other person's ass.

It's not like he can control how you act. You can watch cartoons in your cute PJs holding your favorite stuffed animal. It's up to him to play along.

Maybe it's an innate male desire, maybe it's some fucked up part of his brain, maybe it's just you. You and your cute little outfits and your pretty smile on your adorable face that lights up whenever he enters the room.

He sits down on the couch next to you. "What are you up to, baby?" he asks softly with his face nuzzled into your neck.

"Watching a show," you say, pointing to the TV.

"Yeah? Is it good?"

"It's okay, but I've already seen this one."

"So, you wouldn't mind taking a little break?"

You understand the implication. He's already riled up, so you figure it can't hurt to say it, he'd probably be more susceptible to your charm in this state. And, if he doesn't like it, you can just play it off as a joke.

"Okay, daddy." You give him the sweetest, doe-eyed look.

He sighs — not at you but at his hardening dick for forcing him to admit that he enjoys this.

"Taking you to bed then, baby girl," he says, as he lifts you up and carries you to the bedroom, depositing you on the bed.

You have hearts in your eyes when you look at him, seeing Daddy, rather than Leon. And in that moment, Leon knows he's fucked. His head, dizzy from the surge of blood downward, leads him astray, leads him straight into the role of daddy.

Leon does the best he can, he takes it in stride. In the coming days, he finds that the playing the part of 'daddy' leaves a lot of room for ad libbing as daddy is the one who makes all the rules. Daddies just have to take care of their babies, you tell him when he asks what the fuck he's supposed to be doing. That's a pretty broad instruction, it gives Leon a lot of leeway to do as he wishes.

Leon plays gently but he does not play nice. He teases you relentlessly and makes you beg until you can't anymore, until your brain goes blank. Finally, he gives into your wishes, which are identical to his.

He holds onto your thighs while he fucks you deep and slow, balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You look up at him with nothing behind your eyes, no thoughts, just arousal dripping from your cunt.

Even the word 'daddy' eventually disappears from your vocabulary and all that you have left is breathy moans.

Leon states the obvious, "I think I fucked you stupid, baby."

Of course, you nod— not that you consciously agree with his statement, you'd agree to anything, and Leon knows that.

"I bet you'd do anything for daddy, huh? I bet you'd let me spit in your mouth if I asked."

It isn't as off-handed a remark as he'd like for you to believe it is. He'd been wanting to do this for quite some time but thought you might see it as degrading (and, not in a good way).

You don't answer verbally — instead, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. An enthusiastic yes. So, Leon leans in close, gathers up all the saliva in his mouth and lets it drip into your mouth.

You swallow. Hot. You smile. Adorable. You open your mouth again and stick your tongue out asking for him to do it again. Irresistible.

"What's the magic word?" he asks, pouding into you harder. The facade of his control is slipping, he's desperate, panting from the exertion it takes to fuck you this hard while making sure he doesn't cum prematurely.

"Please, daddy," you whine as he continues railing you hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall.

He only slows down to oblige with your request.

After swallowing, you thank him. His breath hitches in response. He never thought the words "thank you" could affect him so much. It's more than that, though. Your arousal is doubled by seeing Leon being overcome with his, and your pussy tightening around him pulls an unmistakable groan from deep in his chest.

"Baby," he says, tone filled with urgency, "Where do you want daddy to cum?"

"Inside," you say, looking at him with pure desire in your eyes.

It's like an override button. He should not cum inside you. Leon usually insists on using a condom or pulling out. You're on birth control, but he doesn't take his chances. Until now. Now, he rattles off pure filth while you babble nonsense until he fills you to the brim.

From that night forward, it becomes a thing between the two of you - not all the time, but sometimes. Often enough that Leon feels gross about it.

This cannot go any further than it has. Do you expect him to buy you baby toys and spoon-feed you using plastic utensils? How would he explain that to his friends if they ever came over?

"But you like it, daddy," you say, kicking your legs, which are spread just enough that he can see you're not wearing anything underneath your oversized t-shirt.

"It stays in the bedroom. It's not up for debate."

"But what if I want to have sex on the couch or in the shower?"

"Good girls take what they're given, and don't complain."

"Daddy," you whine, egging him on, sure, but also genuinely frustrated at his insistence on keeping this in the literal bedroom.

His gaze hardens, his mouth draws a flat line and he says, "You're not getting anything tonight."

"No, no, no, please, daddy, I promise-"

"No. You're lucky I'm not punishing you."

"This is punishment! I need you so bad."

"That's too bad."

You're upset already but it's nothing compared to the feeling you get when you watch Leon pull his dick out and begin to jerk himself off. You're jealous of his own hand somehow.

"Please, please, can I help? I just wanna touch it."

He doesn't say anything, just takes your hand in his and jerks himself off, managing to use you like a toy without even giving you any pleasure. He doesn't even look at you while he does it — or at least, he doesn't look at you when he thinks you'll catch him, but how can he not look? Especially when you're the one he's getting off to. Yeah, he's thinking about you alright. Thinking about you calling him 'daddy', about how much you love it and how much he pretends to hate it.

"Leon," you whine, dropping the 'daddy' thing in the hopes that it'll convince him.

Finally, he looks at you, and if dropping the whole 'daddy' thing will get you his attention, then you'll do it. But that's not what he wants, he's in too deep, he left 'Leon' behind with the first stroke of his cock.

"Leon? Is that what you call me when we do this?"

"No." You shake your head and pout like you're disappointed in yourself. "I'm sorry, daddy."

"I know you're sorry. That's why you're gonna make it up to daddy."

He lets go of your hand, but he's finished ignoring you. Playtime is in session.

"You're gonna let daddy use that pretty pussy instead of your hand, baby."

"No bad words, daddy," you mumble.

"You're right. Wouldn't wanna set a bad example for my baby girl, would I? You're gonna let daddy use your princess parts."

You try to suppress a smile. Sex is a win-win game. But, you have to pretend it's punishment for the sake of the backwards logic that's gotten you this far, right? Maybe, maybe not. Leon winks at you, unable to hide under the 'disappointed daddy' mask when he's the type of guy who gets giddy about sex.

"How 'bout you keep watching your show?"

Oh, yeah. That thing you'd completely forgotten about the moment Leon entered the room.

"Okay," you agree, knowing that you getting your way is Leon getting his way, and vice versa.

You grab the remote and press play, resuming the stupid cartoon you'd seen a million times before. Leon sits you down on his lap and wastes no time burying himself inside you.

You whimper at the sensation, and try to shift your body so that you're facing him. You want to press your face to his chest. You want to sob into his t-shirt as he drags his cock in and out.

"Mm-mm," he says. "You don't wanna miss your show. I'm not gonna pause it, baby."

You don't give a flying fuck about the show. It's not even a good episode. But the idea of Leon taking what he wants from you like this is too hot to pass up so you have to play along. Really, you can't pay attention to anything because your mind goes blank, the TV is still on but your brain turns to static.

Leon takes your hips and moves you up and down slowly, agonizingly so, at first. It feels like forever, but you know if you whine about it, it'll take even longer for him to give in and go faster.

When he finally does increase the pace, he refuses to touch your clit. You can't cum like this despite the fact that it feels so good it makes you cry. You snake your own hand down between your legs and try to touch yourself, hoping he won't notice, but of course he does — all he's thinking about is you right now. He pulls your hand away, and he doesn't even need to scold you to get his point across. Tears roll down your cheeks, both at the overwhelming sensation and at the fact that he's denying your pleasure. (Though, secretly, you love it just as much when daddy is a little mean.)

He can't see your face but he can hear your sniffles, so he reassures you, "you're doin' so good for daddy, baby, just a few more minutes and then you'll get what you want."

After he cums — inside you, of course — he flips you onto your back and his head finds its way between your thighs. He kisses your inner thighs and says, "you did so good, baby. Now it's your turn."

He turns the TV off and drops the remote on the floor next to the couch. "I want you to focus on feeling good now."

His grip on your hips is soothing yet firm as he dives in to taste you - and, inadvertently, himself. You can barely make out his mumbled praises.

"You're so perfect", "You taste so good", "I'm so proud of you".

And then he stops talking completely because you push his head into your core to shut him up. You can feel him laugh, but you can't hear it. All you can hear is your own moans as your orgasm hits you.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

"I thought I couldn't call you that outside of the bedroom. Did you change the rules, daddy?"

He scoffs. The rules have always been this way, baby girl.

[jakedustry]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

popular!riki x fem!reader

in which after many of your protests, your friends manage to convince you to go to your school prom, reminding you you don't need a date to have fun, and you even believe them for a second – until you are left alone at your table, with no one to talk to. Fortunately, your close friend shows up right in time to show you prom can be funny after all.

wc 2.8k

warnings none (me thinks) except for kissing

↪ izzy adds... I wrote this a year ago on my wattpad account but thought it would be nice to bring some riki fluff on my tumblr too :)) This is only vaguely proofread!

“I don’t want to go,” you whined, grabbing a hair tie from your table before turning to face the group of girls sprawled on your bed again. “I am serious. First of all, I don’t have anyone to go with, and second of all, I don’t have a dress either,” you explained your reasons when you notice the looks on your friends’ faces. 

“But you have to go! Prom is so much fun!” One of the girls exclaimed, ready to argue with you. “It might have been fun if someone asked me to be their prom date,” you mumble, sighing. “Or if you guys were still in school. I don’t want to go alone!” You complained. 

Honestly, you didn’t care much about not being asked out for prom. What bothered you more was that none of your friends would be there with you. You were the youngest in your friend group, and with all the girls being a grade above you, it meant there was no one you could talk to. 

“People are blind. I don’t get why no one asked you out.” 

“It’s whatever. I am not going anyway,” you repeated, sitting on your bed between the two eldest. “Everything got far worse after you left. The girls in my class keep laughing at anyone who breathes. I don’t need them making fun of me because I don’t have a date.” 

“You don’t need a date! You can go alone and dance with whoever you want! I swear prom is super fun!” Your friend kept trying to convince you. “And I already finished your dress,” your best friend joined the conversation, making all of you look at her. “What? Really?” Your eyes widened. 

She had decided to study fashion design after finishing high school, and she had been promising you she would make a dress for you since the first semester started, but you knew she was busy, so you never paid much attention to it, thinking she wouldn’t have time for it. 

“Why haven’t you shown us earlier?!” 

Your best friend unlocked her phone, scrolling through her gallery to find a picture. “I thought I told you about it before. And I wanted to bring it tomorrow to see if it needs fixing,” she shrugged. “Here it is,” she turned her phone towards you so you could see first, showing it to the rest of the group afterward. 

It was a long midnight blue v-neck piece with a fitted bodice and a sweeping skirt, and you absolutely loved it. Even though you always preferred pants and shorts over a dress or skirt, you could see how much work she had put into making it for you. Seeing the dress made you feel a sudden wave of excitement. You wanted to wear it as soon as possible. 

“You are so good!” The oldest gasped. “It’s nothing,” your best friend chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. You knew she was proud of her work, too. “It really does look gorgeous, though,” you assured her, still in awe. 

“Well, now you just have to go.” You sighed, “Alright, I’ll go, but you guys have to promise we’ll get an ice cream and sleep over at mine after it.” The girls grinned, agreeing immediately. 

♡⸝⸝ 

You looked into the mirror again, fixing your hair with a smile. Even though you didn’t feel super excited to go out alone, you must admit, you felt pretty tonight. The dress your best friend designed fit you perfectly, and once you put your hair up and let her do your makeup, you found yourself looking forward to the dance more. 

“You look stunning,” your best friend assured you, her smile so genuine she might also make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. “Should we go?” She asked, offering you her arm. You giggled, wrapping your hand around her arm and leaving your room with her. 

“No boy will be able to resist you tonight.” You couldn’t hide your smile as you heard your best friend, your confidence slowly building up. You nodded, following her to her car. 

Your confidence, however, dropped down again as you ended up alone at your table, staying the only one not dancing. 

You ended up sitting at a table in the far corner with a few of your classmates, looking around the place as soon as you sat down. You must say, they did a great job with the decoration. “I am going to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?” One of the girls asked, putting her handbag on her chair and looking around the table. One of her friends stood up, too, saying she would go with her when their other friends asked for drinks.

You just watched them, not saying anything. They weren’t your friends. Honestly, you barely knew them, so you didn't want to bother them with getting you a drink. It felt awkward sitting there with them, but there was nothing you could do. It wasn't like it would feel any less uncomfortable at the other tables. 

Half an hour later, the dance floor was already occupied, with almost no space for any more pairs. You saw a few of your classmates here and there dancing or sitting at their tables and talking to their friends, but you didn't dare to walk up to any of them. 

So you ended up sitting alone at your table, watching everyone else enjoy themself while you had nothing to do. You knew you shouldn't expect much when you didn't have a date, but you got your hopes up when you talked to your best friend, and now it made you regret coming here after all. 

You shifted in your place, staring at the almost empty glass of coke you got earlier. Playing with your straw, your thoughts drifted away to your friends again. To your actual friends, not just your classmates. You remembered how your best friend would laugh at the stupidest things whenever she was around you and how the eldest in your friend group would always talk about her boyfriend, to the point it annoyed all of you. 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a quick second so tears wouldn't fall down your cheeks. You just wanted to be with them.

“How come you are here alone?” You opened your eyes upon hearing the familiar voice, quickly blinking to make all the possible tears disappear before they could even show up. “I thought I was too late,” he mumbled so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. Almost. 

“It’s weird that none of the guys here asked you for a dance yet. They are missing out,” he grinned, sitting on a chair beside you. “How long did it take you to learn those lines, Riki? Do you go around asking every girl?” You teased him but couldn’t hide a smile. 

You watched him, taking a proper look at what he was wearing. All the boys had a specific dress code: formal pants and a button-down. A vest or a suit jacket were optional, so most of them weren’t wearing them. But he was. He had a black vest on his white button-down, and you could swear he looked better than ever before. It was somehow attractive seeing a man wear a vest even though he didn't have to.

You knew he was attractive. You would be a fool to deny it when all the girls in your grade and the grade under you had a crush on him at one point. But still, it felt as if your eyes had opened only now. 

“Now seriously. Why did you reject everyone? I thought you wanted to dance tonight,” he questioned, looking around the place. You shrugged, looking the same way he was, “No one asked me yet. I didn’t get the chance to reject anyone.” 

You had met Nishimura Riki last year for the first time. You were running through the school hallway late in the afternoon, being one of the last students still in school. Lessons ended more than an hour ago and you had lost track of time while studying in the school library. It was a pure fate that the two of you met, really. You weren’t planning on stopping. If anything, you almost sped up to get out of school as soon as possible to catch your bus, but you ended up slowing down instead when you heard your favorite song coming from one of the classrooms. 

You glanced inside, wondering who was stupid enough like you to be still hanging out in school at this hour. That was when you saw him dancing in the middle of an empty classroom to your favorite song. Back then, he obviously had no idea it was your favorite song, and you had no idea it was one of his, too. 

He noticed you standing at the door and froze, a sudden wave of embarrassment brushing over him. He turned the music off immediately, watching you apologize for interrupting. You felt as embarrassed as he did but didn’t move right away. You lingered in the silence, keeping eye contact with him until you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. You apologized again, running off before he could say anything. It was a chaotic first meeting, but you still managed to get stuck in his head. 

You didn’t have a proper conversation with him that day or any of the days prior, but you started greeting each other in the hallways since then, exchanging small smiles or glances from across the room. 

It went like so for weeks, with neither of you walking up to each other to actually say something. You didn’t know his name, and you assumed he didn’t know yours either, but you still found yourself looking forward to seeing him between your classes. 

And not so long after, when your best friend wanted to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friends, you finally got to hear his name. You stuck together with Riki most of the afternoon, only exchanging a few words with his other friends. It was Riki who your eyes landed on, unable to look away as you found yourself getting lost in your conversation. 

You considered him your close friend since. 

Riki looked back at you, confused if you were telling the truth or joking. “No one asked you for a dance?” You shook your head at his question, looking down at your glass again. “I swear everyone is blind,” he shook his head in disappointment. “You look amazing today,” he assured you. “You look amazing all the time, actually,” he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. “Thank you,” you muttered shyly. 

He hesitated for a second, encouraging himself before he stood up. “Do you want to dance?” Your name rolled on his tongue so easily, as if he had said it a million times before. You smiled, looking up at him again. His hand was reached towards you, and he averted eye contact. For the first time in the year you knew him, you saw him without his usual confidence, and it might have been making you more nervous than him. Everything about him tonight made you nervous. The way he stood, talked, and dressed. It all made you weak in the knees. 

You carefully took his hand, already worried your hand was sweating. He looked you in the eyes again, holding your hand properly as he took you from the table. The current song was ending, but he still had the next one and hopefully a few songs after that, too. 

Riki awkwardly waited for the song to end before looking at you again as he heard the last line. “We are going to kill the next song,” he proclaimed, making you giggle. 

“How about something slower for our pairs this time?” His eyes widened, terrified, as he looked at the DJ. Everyone cheered for him, but Riki couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sure what you would think about dancing with him to a slow song. 

He glanced your way again, his eyes scanning your face and trying to see if you were still up for a dance. You looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out the same thing. Eventually, you decided to take the first step and put your hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, making it easier for you to reach him before he placed his hands on your waist, a sheepish smile on his lips as he looked at you with nothing but love. 

It wasn’t a secret to many – actually, he was pretty sure everyone except for you knew – that he had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Since he saw you in the hallway, with your hair tucked behind your ear, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it has been getting worse and worse ever since. And seeing you so close now, trying to keep eye contact with him even though your cheeks were getting hotter the more you looked at him, only made him love you more. 

“We can’t really kill this dance,” you mumbled with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere so it wouldn't get awkward. He chuckled, nodding before he leaned down to you, stopping once his lips reached your ear. “But we can be the best-looking pair.” His words sent shivers down your spine, making your cheeks turn redder than ever before. You stepped closer again, laying your head on his chest so you wouldn't need to look him in the eyes. 

You nodded, slightly squeezing his shoulders. “Thank you,” you mumbled. “For dancing with me tonight.” You looked up for a second, assuring yourself he heard you. You had underestimated his visuals, you realized. Now that you were standing so close to him, your bodies touching, seeing him bite his bottom lip at what you said in the purple lighting above the dance floor has made you go crazy. 

You felt girls looking at you, trying to murder you with their stares, but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t even think about them when you had a handsome boy right in front of you. Especially when you knew his eyes were on you only. 

Your eyes widened in question when you heard your name leave his lips, questioning what he needed. He hesitated for a moment before moving his right hand from your waist to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. You were too pretty for him to be able to think straight, no matter how much he tried. “Please don’t kick me for this,” he whispered, leaning down again, this time connecting his lips with yours. 

You moved your hand to the back of his neck when you felt his lips on your, pulling him closer to yourself. You were both aware of people staring your way, whispering about god knows what, but you couldn’t care less. This was your moment. 

Riki grabbed your hand again, exchanging one look with you before he took you from the dance floor, rushing to the main hall outside where you all left your jackets before. You didn’t question anything and followed him, keeping your eyes on your intertwined hands. “My things are still in there,” you reminded him, having no idea where he was heading. He didn't answer anything, though, not looking back for even a split second. 

As he stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally looking at you again, you realized he was looking for a quieter place without so many people around. Honestly, you didn’t care where you were. He could take you anywhere, and you would go with him. Because all you could think about at the moment were his lips. 

“I’d kiss you again if your lips weren’t so high up,” you mumbled, creating a grin on his face. He pulled you closer again, leaning down so you could do as you wished. “I thought we were just friends,” he whispered against your lips, making you shiver once again. The look in his eyes, combined with his deep voice would be the death of you soon. You were sure of it. 

“You kissed me first,” you reminded him, breathing on his lips so he could get a taste of his own medicine. “So maybe we aren’t really just friends, pretty boy.” 

“Definitely,” he agreed, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again, this time with more passion, making sure you could feel every last bit of his love on your lips.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[eloquentlytired]

18+ mdni

— his problem

pairing: old!logan howlett x fem short!reader tags: public sex — rough sex — unresolved feelings — tension — slight angst — old man logan doesn't run away upon hearing the words I love you ( shook! ) — he just needs a little therapy — he also likes calling you princess! — soft ending summary: you run away after you deem yourself a problem to logan, charles and caliban. of course a man like logan doesn't let that slide and you're to realize why once he finds you. author's note: i wrote this faster than a uni assignment so if u spot any mistakes i apologize im kneeling on the ground and pleading 4 forgiveness ( not really ). ENJOYYYY and as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

ৎৎৎ

the rain is rough and heavy on your skin but it doesn't stop you from running away. you were a burden to them — to logan, caliban and charles. they already had so many problems and you were just an addition to that list.

charles wouldn't agree. logan simply wouldn't show it. and well... caliban was caliban. he was just being realistic sometimes with his words but it wasn't his purpose to hurt you.

you heard yelling from a distance — it was like angry roaring. logan.

you tried to speed up the pace and run faster, your sundress clinging on you like second skin. you were soaked to the bone and your vision was getting hectic because of the many droplets staining your eyelashes.

one more blink and logan was suddenly running behind you — despite how old he'd become, despite his body literally suffering from the inside he had still come out to get you. it was the first time he did and not caliban or even charles.

“stop!” logan yelled at you, struggling to catch up but only a little. you were no mutant or nearly athletic; and you'd been running until now without stopping under the cold rain. your body was silently suffering.

a rough body pushed you on the nearest tree, your chin and your knees scraping against the wet trunk.

logan stood behind you taller and bigger as you struggled to remove yourself from his grip. one of his hands slid to your nape and he held it firmly, shoving your face against the tree. you winced. he growled. “what the hell were you thinking? running away after that everything we've done for you.”

tears prickled at your eyes and you swallowed so they wouldn't fall. not like he'd care. “I— I just wanted to get rid of one of your problems!” you yelled over the rain and logan pressed his mouth on your ear, his knees brushing against the back of yours. “the fuck did you say?” logan asked. or rather growled again.

“i’m a problem; charles loves me but caliban tolerates me and you—” you paused trying to push down another sob. “you despise me, I can sense it. just let me go!”

the grip he had on your nape, that strong veiny arm, was enough to overpower you. even when you thrashed around maniacally and tried to use your limbs to kick back, logan didn't seem the least affected. wild eyes took in the sight of you— your wet clinging sundress, the white panties peaking beneath it and your bare feet. logan was certain you'd have some new wounds there from all that barefoot running. you gasped as his unoccupied hand moved to pull down your panties, letting them pool around your ankles without care.

“logan, what are you—”

“enough. I have let you off the hook too many times. when you talk back, when you don't follow simple orders. when you do that shit at night.” logan was certainly referring to the times you two would argue and then he'd tell you to fuck right off in your room. you'd listen to that order but not without laying in your bed and touching yourself, coming with his name on your lips.

he heard. you knew. logan knew that you knew. and at that very moment, his entire patience for you broke down.

“logan!” one of his arms had put your head in a tight lock, your chin firmly nestled at the inside of his elbow.

he grunted as he fucked you from behind, his cock slipping in and out of your pussy in fast and deep thrusts.

your ass collided against his hips with every thrust and your helpless hands simply held onto the arm that had forced you into this headlock.

“I fucking saved you. I picked you up from the street,I took care of you—” logan grunted as his other hand played with your breasts, teasing a hard bud between experienced fingers. it'd been a while for the both of you but logan definitely knew more than you did.

a certain circular roll of his hips had you wailing and moaning loudly.

“— I fucking did everything so that you survive. and you're trying to leave me?” he couldn't help but feel that ache in his chest, one he hadn't felt in a long time. your body shook with each thrust directed at your weeping core, logan’s tip nudging that sensitive bulge of nerves while stretching you out with hidden intent.

“i'm sorry! I’m so sorry!” you sobbed and logan squeezed your breast painfully hard until you were looking at him with those eyes — hot tears running down your face. the rain kept going. and so did logan with fucking you under it.

your soaked sundress was a mere dirty fabric around your ankles alongside your underwear. logan drove his hips into yours, hissing everytime your pussy would tighten its grip around his cock, just like a damn vine. his white shirt clung onto his body wetly and his trousers were accompanying yours on the ground — around his own ankles.

“you’d really leave? you wouldn't come back?” he grunted in your ear and tightened his hold around your fragile head. every part of you was in fact fragile.

your hands shakily scratched against his arm and your eyes rolled back when some of your oxygen was stolen from you; logan was squeezing around your throat so tight while slamming into your pussy, raw and deep. it was impossible not to slur your words when he fucked you like this. and you enjoyed every moment. “wanted to— help. I wanted to make things easier—" but your words reached no one.

there was something about logan fucking you in the rain in the middle of the forest. you felt the attraction to this and so did he. he liked the way your nails clawed at his arm helplessly and how your asscheeks bounced against his hips. “logan—" you choked on your scream as his pace turned lethal, his cock drilling your insides without mercy. you could feel the slap of his heavy balls against your clit and everything burned. “do I have to be the bad guy? just because I want all of us safe? because I want you to be safe?” his words conveyed his feelings clearly and it was evident that you'd hurt him with your decision.

your head fell helplessly back on his shoulder and you twisted it around enough to look at him. logan followed your gaze and when your eyes met, you kissed. his lips melted against yours as his hand slapped your breasts, making your pussy clench again.

“keep your eyes on me, princess.” he muttered between hot kisses and you obeyed. it was a different experience to have logan like this, messy beard rubbing against your face while those tired eyes gazed into yours as he filled you up.

“i love you.” you mumbled against his lips and logan slipped his cock out just to force it back inside, your gummy walls spasming around his thickness. you expected him to get mad but logan simply kissed you again while wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you like that as he plunged his cock inside your wetness.

a few thrusts later you were coming around his girth, squeezing him so tight and the situation was just too dangerous for him to continue. “gotta pull out, princess.” he rasped but you squeezed around him in response while pushing your hips back, your intentions very clear.

those eyes looked up at him and fuck he really was a weak man. the weakest if you will.

logan came inside you with a shudder, stumbling forward until your body was squished between the tree trunk and his chest. “princess.” he grunted again and his hips melted into yours. no inch separated your connected bodies as he filled your pussy to the brim.

you had told him no but logan insisted to carry you back home, holding your bare body against his merely clothed one. at least he had his trousers on while you had nothing. “about the I love you part—” you were overthinking it and logan had noticed. he silenced you with a kiss; a kiss which he placed on your forehead. “when I woke up today and saw the house empty, your room empty... and when charles told me you wouldn't be returning—” there was so much emotion in his eyes that you couldn't keep your hands to yourself.

you reached out and caressed logan’s cheek, as well as the wrinkles by his eye. how much you loved those. “I want you to stay. I love you.” his genuine words and gaze made you melt and you found yourself leaning against him, resting your head atop his chest.

you were his problem now. it'd be alright.