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ghost-in-the-hall · 5 months ago

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Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Pt. IX

Part 9 has finally arrived!!! This chapter we begin to move into winter as the first big snow storm of the year hits (really funny that I'm getting around to publishing this in the dead of the July heat lol). Everyone's finally starting to settle into the dynamic which will lead to some... Interesting interactions while the five of them are stuck in close quarters. I am still having issues with getting everyone tagged because Tumblr hates me, but if you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know! Thank you so much for reading!

WARNINGS: Some suggestive behavior

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Part VIII - Part X

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“Do you think the storm is going to be that bad?” Vessel asks. “It’s all we’ve been hearing about on the radio for the past few days.”

“It’s probably going to get pretty nasty. They’re expecting most of the town to lose power.” You bounce your leg nervously, watching him pause to go over his mental checklist in his head. “Would you, um… would you like to stay with me?”

He chuckles as he approaches the counter, “Scared of the big, bad snowstorm, lovey?” He teases with a smile.

“I’m not scared.” You snap back instantly, rolling your eyes. “It’s just,” Vessel didn’t miss the way the concern immediately crept back into your tone, “you’re so far out in the woods; what if something happens and no one can get out there to help.” His expression softens, reaching up to caress your cheek. You can't help but lean into his touch, his palm warm against your skin.

“If you’re more comfortable with us here, we’ll stay. Besides, do you really think I’m going to turn down a chance to spend more time with my girl?” Your cheeks grow warm as a flustered smile spreads across your lips. You still hadn't gotten used to Vessel so adamantly declaring you as his.

“Good,” you respond, trying your best to appear confident, “I need someone to keep me warm.” You smile coyly at him, making Vessel chuckle.

“Well, feeling bold today, are we beautiful?” His expression darkens slightly as a devious glint appears in his eyes. Your pulse immediately quickens as he offers you a sharp smile, his massive form towering over you, “You want to be in my arms, pretty girl?” He coos, making your face burn. He leans down, bringing his face in front of yours. “I'll hold you all night if that's what you want.” He whispers. He can't help but laugh slightly at your flustered expression, calling you cute as he straightens back up. “I'll be back in about an hour with the others. Let us take care of dinner tonight; you deserve to be spoiled for once.”

“Just be safe, okay? Everything always gets a little crazy around here on storm days.” He takes your hand, slowly bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“I'll be back before you know it.” He smiles sweetly. “Promise.”

While Vessel went to get the others, you took the time to make preparations. You were lucky enough to have the store beneath you; if you lost power, the fridges and your supply of ice would be sufficient to keep things cold for a while. You gathered all the candles and extra blankets from around your apartment, piling them up in one area with your other emergency supplies. You can’t help but smile when there’s a knock at your door. You squeal as III’s large hands wrap around your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the floor. “There she is!” He exclaims excitedly, spinning you around in a hug. You’re suddenly sandwiched between him and IV; you let out a pleased hum as III slots his lips against yours, IV peppering your face with kisses simultaneously.

IV nuzzles his face against yours as III pulls back. “We missed you, doll.” You spin around, slipping into IV’s arms, letting him hug you close as III starts bringing things into the kitchen. He sways you gently in his arms, taking a moment to memorize the feeling of you being pressed against him before pulling back. “I'm going to help the others set up.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

II pushes through the door, arms full of what appeared to be pillows, as he struggles to keep his grip on all of them. “Want some help with that?” You offer with a giggle.

“That'd be great, thanks.” He responds with a chuckle of his own. You smile coyly at him, your arms sliding over his shoulders as he saunters up to you. “And how are you doing today, beautiful?”

“Much better now that you're all here.” You respond softly.

He hums approvingly, “That’s what I like to hear.” He trails a finger along your jaw, carefully tilting your chin until he can easily kiss you. Even the gentlest kisses from II always managed to take your breath away, and now was no different. “You just hang back and relax, love. Let us handle everything.”

Your heart always felt so full whenever all five of you were together. You would never get sick of how lively the group of them made you and your home feel. “Here you go.” You smile as IV slips a glass of wine into your hand, collapsing onto the couch at your side. Vessel, II, and III were currently bickering over something in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone for what felt like the first time in forever. “I have something for you.” He states softly. He takes your hand, rummaging around in his bag with the other until he produces a small, brown leather notebook. “Here.” He offers it to you; you can't help but smile at the gift.

“What's this?” You ask curiously. You open to the first page, and IV’s messy script is the first thing you see. ‘For my favorite girl, hopefully, this makes up for all the times I should have bought you flowers.’ You flip to the second page to find a perfectly preserved pressed flower. A bright orange bloom sat atop a stem of tiny green leaves; the date IV must have picked it, and the flower's name should have been written in the upper right corner. The rest of the book followed a similar pattern. A collection of vibrant reds, purples, and golds filled the rest of the pages. You could tell how carefully every flower was handled just by how it was presented to you on the page.

“Whenever I find a flower I think you'd like, I press it in a book. That way, you can keep them forever without them wilting.” The gesture was so sweet you blinked rapidly to clear the tears from your eyes.

“Thank you, IV, this is incredible.” You set the book carefully down on the table, reaching out and pulling him into your arms. He wasted no time melting into you, his arms circling your waist as he returned your embrace.

“You make me really happy, you know that?” You smile, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“So do you.” You both reluctantly separate from each other. You rest a hand on IV’s cheek, smiling softly at him as you study how his features curve under the fabric of his mask. You carefully take his face in your hands, guiding him forward to kiss his forehead. He smiles, letting out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

“Dinner’s ready!” You both jump as you hear Vessel call from the kitchen. He stands, helping you from the couch. IV pulls you into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let's go before it's all gone.” He chuckles

You stood at III’s side, helping him clean up after dinner. “That food was amazing.” You remark, making him chuckle.

“I try my best.” He responds humbly. “Working with whatever we can grow or hunt, I want to ensure it, at least, tastes good.” You finish drying off the wine glass you had been using earlier, pushing yourself up on your toes to struggle to reach the top shelf. III chuckles; you freeze as you feel the warmth of his body creep up your back, nearly making you drop the glass in the process. “Need some help, love?” He whispers, making you shiver. His long arms can easily reach up to set the glass back in its spot. His hands find their way to your waist, lifting you from the floor to put you on the counter easily. “I can finish up here; you can just relax.” He chuckles as you pout in response.

“You cooked dinner; the least I could do is help with the dishes,” you protest. He places his hands on either side of your waist as he leans closer.

“I think the least you could do is let someone take care of you for a change.” He whispers, making your cheeks grow warm. He studies you, a playful expression growing on his face as he realizes your flustered state. His hands leave the counter, massaging your plush thighs before they slide to your back, pulling you closer to him. You felt so small in his hands, but he still easily towered over you from your position on the counter. He ran his hands soothingly up and down your sides. You forced yourself to stifle the soft whine that threatened to leave you at the feeling of his strong hands against your body. “You're always so worried about taking care of everyone else. When was the last time someone did the same for you?”

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, your thoughts growing fuzzy as you began to feel like putty under III’s touch. “But–” he hushes you softly as you start to argue.

“You deserve to be spoiled.” He says softly, lifting his mask enough to kiss you. “I want to make sure that you are.” You let out a pleased sound as he pushes into you. Your hands roam over his chest; you groan at the feeling of his muscles tensing under your palm. This kiss with III felt different than the others you had shared. This one was noticeably more intense and needy than when you kissed him. His fingers massaged into your muscles as he desperately sought to have you any closer to him than you already were. His breathing was heavy when the two of you finally separated; you could feel the way his hands trembled slightly against your skin.

“What's wrong?” Worry is immediately prominent in your tone.

“Nothing, doll.” He responds gruffly. “It's just if I keep kissing you like that–” he trails off with a chuckle.

“Too bad it's not just the two of us.” You respond under your breath. III’s gaze snaps to you, unsure if he had heard you correctly or not at first. You glance up at him through your lashes, and III could have sworn in that moment his heart stopped. You lean up, placing a gentle kiss on his clothed lips. “Hopefully, that’s not the last time you kiss me like that.”

“Trust me, you don't have to worry about that.” He smiles in response.

“Are you two done in there or what?” You hear II call, “Did we really have that many dishes?”

You giggle, “We should get back to the others.” He chuckles, nodding his agreement.

You found yourself seated in Vessel’s lap; your legs stretched over IV’s legs as he held your hand, your feet resting comfortably in III’s lap as he made easy work of massaging away all the tension in your muscles. II sat on the floor in front of the couch, holding your free hand in his own and bringing your knuckles to his lips every so often. You had thrown on a movie, some mindless holiday comedy that everyone seemed content with. You leaned into Vessel’s chest, letting your head fall against his shoulder. He smiles at you, carefully reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “You less nervous now, love?” He asks softly.

“How could I be nervous? I have all of you within arms reach.” You giggle. He hugs you close, the two of you enjoying the chance to be so close to each other. Just as your eyes grew heavy, your apartment was plunged into complete darkness. “Shit.” You curse, attempting to hurry out of Vessel’s lap; you pause when he gently squeezes your hip.

“II.” He states simply.

“On it.” Before you could ask what was happening, a match was struck to life. But all the candles were on the other side of the apartment; there was no way he could have gotten over there–

“I'll get the stove started.” III stands, placing your feet in IV’s lap. “These two better do a good job of keeping you warm.” He chuckles, quickly pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by.

You didn't have to lift a finger. Before you knew it, the wood stove was warming the living room, candles casting a soft orange glow over the entire space, and a mug of tea warming your hands as you sat sandwiched between IV and II on the couch. The night sped by as you found yourself playing card games, laughing to the point your sides hurt as you witnessed them bicker and repeatedly get caught trying to cheat. “I'm not counting cards!” II protests.

“You absolutely are!” III argues, “Don't think I can't see you counting on your hands!” II opens his mouth to respond, only for III to cut him off, “Disqualified! You are disqualified!” II groans, admitting defeat as he throws his cards on the table.

Vessel wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “You're looking a little tired, love.” You couldn't even attempt to argue as a yawn forces its way past your lips. “Let's call it a night.” He announced, helping you from the floor. “Goodnight.” Vessel leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Ves.” You smile, slipping into his arms for one final hug. You exchange your good nights with the others, reluctant to leave them even though you would only be in the next room. You could hear them all get settled as you lay in bed, your apartment eventually becoming deathly quiet once again. You lay there for what felt like hours, and it had only been about 20 minutes when you checked the time. You sigh, sitting up in bed. You stare at the door, debating whether any of them were still up. You toss back your covers and leave your bed, wincing slightly as the floorboards creak beneath your feet. You carefully crack open your bedroom door, glancing into the living room only to find Vessel still awake, reading a book under the low candlelight. “Everything alright, love?” He asks quietly. It took you a moment to respond, surprised that he realized you were there.

“I just can’t sleep.” You admit sheepishly, opening the door just wide enough to reveal yourself. He closes the book he was reading, setting it on the end table behind him.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He beckons you closer with a nod of his head. You carefully maneuver around the others, who had found a comfortable spot on the floor for the night. Vessel opens his arms for you, allowing you to crawl into his warm embrace. You cuddled into his chest, the heavy weight of his arms around your waist immediately lulling you into a new state of comfort as you melted into him. He tilts his head back; you swallow thickly as you realize just how nice it would feel to have your lips trail along the skin of his neck. You quickly shook the thought from your mind as he blew out the candle. “What’s troubling that pretty little head of yours, hm?” He purrs. You were finding it hard to concentrate. Vessel’s body was so warm every ache in your muscles simply seemed to vanish as you allowed your fingers to trail over his bare skin. He smelled of damp earth, musky incense, and the subtle sweetness of freshly cut flowers.

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper, looking up at him despite the fact you could barely make out the outline of his face.

“Of course.” He responds in the same quiet tone. He adjusts his position, hoisting you up higher on his chest to bring your face closer to his. “You can ask me anything you like, love.”

You could feel his lips brush against yours as he spoke; the feeling was enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Do you think about me?”

“Love, the image of you never leaves my mind.” You can’t help but smile at his response. “I can’t even begin to describe how special you are to me.” He carefully cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb trailing across your jaw. “I must not be doing a very good job as your boyfriend.” He jokes with a chuckle. “There’s got to be some way for me to prove how crazy I am about you.” The edge of his mask bumps against your cheek as he pushes it off his face. His hand carefully cradled your head, guiding your lips down to meet his. You could feel his heartbeat racing under your palm. He kissed you hesitantly at first, his whole body rigid as he waited to see how you would respond to such a bold gesture from him. He had kept you at arm’s length since he met you, not because he didn’t care about you. It was the exact opposite. If he wasn’t careful, Vessel felt he could easily find himself becoming infatuated with you, something that could cost him dearly if you ended up stabbing him in the back like so many others had in the past. Yet, over the time he had known you and the short time you had been together as partners, your affection for him never wavered. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as Vessel slid a hand under your shirt, his tough, calloused hands rough against your back. “There isn’t a second that passes by where I’m not thinking of you; the sound of your laugh, the way you smile, the way you seem to fit so perfectly in my arms; I am always thinking about you.” He confesses breathlessly against your lips. You let out a soft hum of approval as he crushes his lips against yours again, struggling to stay quiet but not wanting to risk waking the others. You felt like you would die if Vessel stopped kissing you. He groans at the feeling of your hands timidly wandering his body, shaky fingers tracing along the outlines of his muscles as your lips melded perfectly to his. He kissed you until there was physically no air left in his lungs. You struggle to steady your rapidly pounding heart. You rest your hand on the side of his face, gently trailing along the peak of his cheekbone. He caught your hand in his, startling you slightly at the abruptness. He brings your knuckles to his lips. “No matter how much I would like to keep kissing you, you should probably get some rest, love.” He says with a chuckle.

“Now, how is that fair?” You ask coyly, “You make me wait all this time to kiss you, and I only get to do it once?” He tilts your chin up with his thumb. You could feel him smile against your lips. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Your eyes flutter shut as you’re met with another euphoric kiss, “but you have to get some sleep.” You grumble out your reluctant agreement, placing one final chaste kiss on his lips before settling against his chest, your eyes feeling heavy as your adrenaline wears off.

You’re woken up the following morning by a knock at the door. You sit up, wiping away the sleep in your eyes as you try to make sense of your situation. You had fallen asleep in the living room last night after coming to see Vessel; you remembered that much. All four of them were already awake and much more alert than you were at the sudden disturbance. “Relax, I’m sure it’s just the plow guy or something.” You reassure them. You stand, shivering as all the warmth is rapidly stolen from your body. You unlocked your door, opening it just enough to peer outside. Your stomach dropped at seeing the police officer on the other side.

He greets you with a familiar smile, “Got a second to talk?”

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Tag List can now be found in the comments!

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yandere-daydreams · 29 days ago

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Daytrip Illumi my beloved... and poor Darling. You capture how unnerving and unsettling he should be so well!

Illumi should be Strange and Uncanny even at his mildest(? not sure if an Illumi in love could be 'mild', but idk if it could be called volatile either. Darling was right, you can't ever tell with him); man was cosplaying Pinhead for a week. He could talk the whole time but just literally rattled at people. And poor Ghost, my stomach just dropped because everything so far was downright too tame and too thoughtful for a Yandere.

Aside from the porn, I was waiting for that drop. Darling really can't have nice things, can't she? Or rather, she can't have anything he's not able to take. Whether a Darling is defiant (Obedience Training, Ingress) or submissive (Daytrip) he's always going to pile on the trauma.

But the moment he started mouthing and groping at her in the car, I knew he was out of patience. Everything else that day was window dressing and foreplay, and the bit where she picks a cute, frilly, puff-sleeved dress really sold the toy and doll comparison later, she was so right at the observation that Illumi took her as a ballerina for his music box. In the end, the daytrip really wasn't for her to enjoy: he ripped up her dream dress, dashed her hope that her cat was doing well without her, and didn't get to eat anything at the picnic aside from the morsel he gave her. Girl couldn't even enjoy the scenery cause he blocked it off with himself. The end was so despondent in comparison to the beginning where she resolves to take any out that presents itself, falling asleep and giving into the dark (Illumi) swallowing her.

And meanwhile, Illumi's just had an epiphany on why his parents kept having kids even after the designated heir Killua. And also patting himself on the back cause he checked off all the boxes on his 'perfect romantic date to-do list', and gotten the *ideal* ending of having finally lost his v-card. 10/10, Great Day. Would do again sometime (but not too soon).

The juxtapostion between her opinion of how the daytrip went and his opinion of how it went must be... something. I almost don't want to know, and I don't know how to properly describe what this made me feel, but it's visceral.

i love it when you people treat my silly little fics like they need to be studied under a microscope,,,, i will be living on this ask for weeks thank you anon <3

illumi just makes me,,, yeah. i feel like there's so little you can do to actually fight against him (running's not an option when he has you under surveillance 24/7, fighting a seasoned hitman won't end well, etc.), but good behavior only makes him more likely to proceed with the awful things he would've done anyway, had you spent every minute from your inevitably kidnapping kicking, screaming, and cursing his name. he's got a running checklist of uncomfortable positions he'd like to see you in, and it's less a question of when you'll be ready for it and more what he'll have to do to make you compliant enough to be, if not a willing participant, than a docile one. i think he does care about your feelings and you loving him back, but your priorities are so drastically different that you two are never actually going to end up on the same page. in his mind, he's done his research (i.e. played roughly a hundred hours of the most popular dating sims he could get his hands on), been a good partner, and taken very good care of his beloved doll/pet/captive. in yours, you've been violated and abused by the man who both kidnapped you and admitted to killing your cat without blinking, and there's very little reconciliation from there.

#personal #anon ask

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sageofgrief · 11 months ago

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my first and only love

︱ gale galleon x reader, highschool sweethearts, established relationship, gale spoiling you because you deserve it <3

divider by cafekitsune

art by aliztyy (twt)

the day you met him was the day butterflies suddenly erupted inside your stomach. his brown golden hair that smelt like vanilla and coffee stung your nose in a good way, and his charming eyes that you could stare into forever, you wouldn't mind getting lost in it if it meant you could better understand him better, eyes are the windows of the soul after all.

ah damn it, he's too gorgeous. there's no way id ever get his atten- "hey!" you lifted your pen up from your notebook that you were just writing in to a familiar voice. you shifted your gaze to the person infront of you to see gale galleon. "o-oh! uuh.. sorry i was uh.. writing ssssomething.. can i help you..?" you stuttered out, making a fool out of yourself. "sorry.. can i uhh borrow a pen?" he nervously laughed. ahh he looked so cute blushing and avoiding your gaze, you didn't notice it unfortunately since you were also avoiding his gaze. you nodded and gave him the pen you were holding. he turns his back to his table to write something, while he was doing that, you could practically feel the hot blush on your face. it felt like your face was about to erupt like a volcano because of how flushed you were! so cute. you had all these thoughts in your head but before you could realize, he turns back to you and slides a piece of folded piece of paper along with your pen on your desk. he gulpd silently and turns back around.

you tilt your head in confusion and open the folded paper and what you saw was something you never could have expected. there on the lined paper, with messy but charming handwriting said "you're really cool, wanna hang out? -gale :)" and two drawn in boxes that said yes or no. you blinked a second time to really process if this is happening. without a thought you drew in a checklist in the yes box and folded it back together. you tap gale's shoulder and handed him the paper. he turns back to open the table and you swore you heard him do a little victory "yes...!" celebration after opening it. he once again turns back to you and says "soooo...movies? weekend?" "aye aye, captain".

"you always had that stupid eyepatch on everyday at school, people called you a pirate and some of the juniors even called you captain galleon!" months later, you were in your shared house with gale, you sat on the couch with his head on your shoulder. firepit crackling accompanied with the cold night air breeze and that post rain smell, what was it called.. ah yes, petrichor.

"you think my eyepatch was stupid?" he looked up at you and pouted with those big sad puppy eyes, "of course not, you goober. you looked edgy" "damn right i looked edgy" he said proudly then laughing along with you. "i never thought this would happen you know.." you sighed as you looked deep into his alluring eyes, his breathing calmed you... he sat up straight and kissed your forehead before saying "..me neither" and giggling like a child, shortly after he pulled you into a big bear hug where your head layed on his chest and there you fell asleep. he stroked your hair and had his chin rested on top of your head, shushing you to sleep coupled with whispering sweet nothings. just before you fully fell asleep though, you slurred out something while you were half awake, "i love..you gale... i always...will.." he smiles warmly and kisses your head, "i will always love you too, silly." and continued stroking your hair until you drifted off to dreamland.

apologies for any typos, i quite literally wrote this in bed.

intro • masterlist • general rules • detailed request rules • main acc @sageofgrief • nsfw acc @sageofmarionette

#sageofgrief #avallum #avallum x reader #first stage production en #fsp #fspen #fspen x reader #gale galleon #gale galleon x reader

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bluedalahorse · 3 months ago

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some fic written pre-s2, posted for your personal enjoyment

@frogprincesnowglobe mentioned a headcanon about little!Sara teaching herself etiquette and practicing various graceful exercises and… oh! oh! I have an excerpt from an unpublished fanfic about that! Because I have thoughts about that and they break my heart.

I’m giving this fic snippet its own post so it doesn’t get lost in the reblogs on the already very lovely Sara chain, but here’s something I wrote between seasons 1 and 2 when I was trying to figure out what Sara and August falling in love would look like. (I had a gut feeling they would after season 1, so I was trying to work it out in a fanfic, like you do.)

THE CONTEXT: Sara knows August did the video, so she’s trying to get closer to him to figure out how to get revenge (but also she thinks his hair is cute and grabbable so lust factors into about 50% of her decisions.) August knows Sara knows he did the video, so he’s trying to be nice to her as possible and so she doesn’t snitch (also when she looks at him it makes his knees weak, so lust factors into about 50% of his decisions.) They’re talking on the phone (like ancient millennials who actually use their phone as a phone!) and August has noticed how fascinated Sara is with Hillerska and its traditions and everything that makes it work. So, he says he’ll give her tips on how to become a prefect her third year and such, even though he knows she’s unlikely to be chosen.

I wrote this back in November 2021, so please accept this Early Installment Weirdness of my YR fanfiction career.

If you want to win over a girl with gifts and favors, you have to cater to her interests. It’s not that August didn’t know that. He’s just never put it into practice like this before. He went too generic, with Felice. All that insufferable talk of restaurants, when he didn’t even know he was broke. Putting Sara on the headmistress’s radar costs August nothing, and when they’re on the phone the evening before he returns to Hillerska, she actually says it’s thoughtful of him to include her like that. Thoughtful. She’s got to be fucking with him. Unless she isn’t? As August folds clothes and stacks them carefully in his suitcase, Sara explains on speakerphone about how she wants to be a prefect too, someday. She wants nothing more than to help out with Hillerska events. When she was younger, her mother used to take her and Simon to the public library all day—Sara doesn’t say why—and she used to sit between shelves and read the horse and school and etiquette books. She knows the right way to serve coffee and tea in multiple countries, the correct wording for invitations, every last thread of proper dress codes. She has been training for this her whole life. “Those details matter,” Sara declares. “They’re so much work. And if they’re done right, everything runs smoothly, but no one notices. If they aren’t, everyone notices, and it’s a disaster.” August laughs. There’s a sudden lightness in his chest. “Did I say something funny?” Sara asks, after a moment. “Not at all,” August says. “You’re just the only one who gets it. Finally.” He means it. Everyone calls him annoying behind his back, but they’re the ones benefiting from the events and rituals he’s organized. Hypocrites. “If you want, I’ll let you help me out with prefect work.” “Are you trying to get me to do all your work?” Sara asks, deliberate as a lawyer. “Or are you trying to be alone with me?” “We’ll do my work together. Promise.” This isn’t that cliché where the popular boy manipulates the quiet girl into taking on his homework and responsibilities—that shows a lack of control, and August is too much of a control freak to let Sara complete his entire checklist. “That way you’ll know what to do, so you can be in the running for prefect your third year. It really should be you, you know?” Except that she lacks the family connections—but August keeps quiet about that. “The headmistress has to know that.” “Where and when would we do this, exactly?” “You’re the one who said something about us being alone.” He lowers his voice, even though he’s in his room and no one else can hear him. “You’re the only girl I can trust, Sara.” Sara giggles, maybe in a nervous way. “You’re saying that to make fun of me.” “I need you. I mean it. Besides, it gets boring doing school mailings by myself.”

Anyway that’s it that’s the snippet. I miss them I miss them I miss them and with the minimal fic that’s been written about this pairing sometimes it feels like I’ve never even gotten to hang out with them.

#young royals #sara eriksson #august horn of årnäs #sargust #saraugust #i need them your honor

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rinsuniverse · 1 year ago

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[7:26]

kisses with woozi!

here are two scenarios i imagine kissing woozi would be like

imagine he's about to leave for tour

you're sitting on his bed and he's scrambling around the room, putting things in his suitcase and double checking his checklist

he's muttering to himself things like, "did i pack my charger for my laptop?" or "shit, i forgot my toothbrush. one sec."

in the midst of the mess, he glances over at you

you're just sitting there with your phone in your hands, but you're observing him as he packs last minute

his stresses melt when he sees your big questioning eyes as soon as he made eye contact with you

you mouth "what?"

and he chuckles. "i should just pack you so you can come with me"

"as if" you counter, laughing at him "oh, i have a surprise for you"

he puts down his stuff before sitting down besides you on the bed

you go to your bag and pull out a shoebox of thoughtful, short letters for different emotions he might have on tour

"surprise!" you hand him the box and he's smiling at you

"you're so cheesy"

"there's one for when you get to the airport-"

and he kisses you on the cheek interrupting your train of thought

he's looking away, his eyes tightly closed and his ears turned red

"you're welcome, ji."

he'd fall more in love with you when you do thoughtful things like that

i imagine he'd spontaneously surprise you with thoughtful gifts, too, so whenever you reciprocate, he can't control his feelings for you

another time woozi would kiss his s/o!

imagine you're at his studio (surprise, surprise)

you suggested you wanted to make a song for him and he was all over that idea, already making some demos for you

when you finish recording and he's sitting there quietly, editing the song

you smile at how focused he is

the way he bops his head and gets lost in the music

you cant help yourself

"i love you. can i kiss you?" you say, making him physically pause

"what?"

"i want a kiss."

he laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand

"come onnn, i deserve it after being scolded for my singing and rapping."

"i didn't scold you, i was just correcting you."

"can you just kiss me?"

"no." he deadpans

your jaw drops and you begin laughing

but he gently places his hand behind your neck and head, pulling you closer

and he kisses you for a moment before going right back to editing

he's so cute, literally 🫶

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emskitty · 3 months ago

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Ems is (a)live ✨

All that I have to offer, is online!

Happy 💓 (because I have so many memories of my college days: just spending the day around being naughty, feeling cute, and in seconds needing to get dressed and hide everything)

It's not my 1st rodeo 😅 I'm trying again and all the support is welcome!

unfortunately, I was one of the people who with all the changes in the media was affected and lost my main account a few years ago. at that time I was already thinking about quitting and with life happening so fast I did it.

radio silence! but I kept ✨👻where I would appear from time to time, just for the tease and the adrenaline. I continued to make some vids and photos just because it's who I am.

Then come the first steps in the kinky lifestyle 👠 so addicting! the experiences, the learning, the get-to-know-me even better and at a deeper level. going through the checklist and having stories to tell 🤭

That brings us to the past present where that feeling of something missing never disappeared. I need to admit, this is a part of my persona that loves tease and getting pampered in return 🫦

So 👉👈 Hi! I'm Ems, nice to meet you 😇 Hope you stick around and support me. In return, you have all my gratitude and seeing me smile for doing what brings me joy.

I'm active on premium 👻 and OF 💦

Social Media to follow me ❤️‍🔥

public 👻: emilyckitty (premium, send DM 😉)

X: Emily_C_Kitty

OF: https://onlyfans.com/emilycaanto

MV: https://www.manyvids.com/Activity/emily-caanto/263858/club

More links on the side of the page 🔥

#emskitty #bd/sm community #bd/sm brat #get to know me #vent #bd/sm blog

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The Lost Cause prologue, part III

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a solarpunk adventure about "the first generation in a century that doesn't fear the future." It comes out on Nov 14, and its early fans include Naomi Klein:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

Amazon won't sell my audiobooks, so I made my own, doing the narration this time around. I'm running a Kickstarter campaign to pre-sell the audiobook, ebook and hardcovers, including signed, personalized hardcovers – I hope you'll consider backing it:

http://lost-cause.org/

This week, I'm serializing the prologue to the book.

Here's part one:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/06/green-new-deal-fic/#the-first-generation-in-a-century-not-to-fear-the-future

And part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/07/met-cute-ugly/#part-ii

I woke at noon, the house hot because Gramps had left the blinds up in the front room, and ever since the big live oak had been cut up and taken away for blight, we’d lost its shade.

I used the bathroom, pulled on shorts and a tee, and went looking for breakfast, or brunch, or whatever.

“Gramps?”

He didn’t answer. That was weird. Gramps was a late riser and he rarely got up before ten, and then he took a long time to get going, listening to his podcasts and drinking coffee and sending memes around to his buddies with his giant tablet, with the type zoomed way, way up. He didn’t like going out in the heat, either, so in the summer he rarely left the house before four or five, once the sun was low to the hills. He’d left his coffee cup in the sink and his tablet on the table, so I knew he’d gone in a hurry. He hated dirty dishes and hated dead batteries even more.

I put his stuff away and thawed out some waffles and got a big iced coffee from the cold-brew jug I kept in the fridge and started the process of becoming human.

I gobbled my first waffle before the emotional weight of the previous night settled on me. Those emotions were way too big, so big that they all layered on top of each other, leaving me with nothing but numbness.

I did the reflex thing and pulled out my screen, giving myself a brief sear of shame for my mindless screen-handling, just as I’d been trained to do in mindfulness class. That was enough to prompt me to run through the checklist: Do I need to look at my screen? Do I need to look at it now? What do I hope to find? When will I be done? I answered the questions (Yes, yes, news about last night, when I’ve looked at two or three stories), and then unlocked it, but didn’t look at it until I’d poured myself another glass of coffee.

Two hours later, there was no coffee left and my eyes hurt from screenburn. I dropped my screen, came out of my trance, and stood up.

I’d gone viral. Or rather, Mike had.

My post had been picked up, first in Burbank, then statewide, then nationally, then internationally. Amateur comedians had edited the footage into highlight reels, moments chosen to demonstrate just how idiotic and hateful he was. Someone made a White Nationalist Bingo Card whose every square had a quote from Mike Kennedy. There were lots of jokes about inbreeding, hillbillies, musket-fuckers and ammosexuals, master race masturbation, senility, removable boomers—all the age-and class- based slurs that we weren’t allowed to say in school, but that everyone busted out as soon as we were off the property. It was pretty gross, but on the other hand, I couldn’t exactly argue with them. Bottom line was, Mike Kennedy had been up on that roof for no good reason, and he’d been ready to kill me to let him finish his stupid, senseless project. So yeah, fuck that guy. I guess.

I was pleased to see that I came off as a hero, with strangers around the world praising me for my cool head, saying I’d saved his life.

I put my plate in the dishwasher and wiped up my crumbs and checked the clock on the kitchen wall—I’d always loved its plain analog face with its thick and thin lines, the yellowing AC cord that came off it. It had belonged to Gramps’s own parents, and it was the only thing in the house I considered anything like an heirloom.

It was coming up on one and if I showered fast and ran, I could make my physics class. I decided to go for it, had the fastest shower in history, pulled on whatever was on the top of my dresser drawers, and sprinted for the street.

I was just jogging up to the entrance to Burroughs when I got a screen chime, which stopped me because, like all the students, I’d installed the school app that turned off audible alarms while I was on property during school hours. It wasn’t mandatory, but the punishment for having an alarm in class was confiscation, so . . .

I pulled out my screen as I panted by the doorway, mopping my face with my shirttail. It was a text from Burbank PD, informing me that Mike Kennedy was headed for a bail hearing in two hours, and I was entitled to present a victim impact statement, either recorded or in person. I’d known that the police could override the school app (there was a kid in my class whose parole office sometimes paged him, and the fact that he audibly dinged was just part of the package, I figured—a way to remind us all that this kid had fucked up bad), but I hadn’t expected them to ping me, let alone on school property.

I tapped out a quick thanks-no-thanks, and headed to physics.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/09/working-the-refs/#lost-cause-prologue

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #books #science fiction #solarpunk #clifi #the lost cause #kickstarter #audiobook

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laceybun · 10 months ago

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33 and 16 for the ask game ? >:3

HAII BUDDY!!! Sorry for my tendency to not actually answer questions and get lost in a ramble LOL hope you enjoy!! ;3

33:

I’m not sure, honestly! I find it hard to be comforted by words, I appreciate them, and I enjoy when I get them to an extent, but I seriously struggle to believe them unless it’s coming from a very select few of people. It’s something I appreciate best when I’m close to someone. In terms of physical compliments, I like to be called handsome, pretty, beautiful, cute, ethereal, angelic, and whatever. I’m not picky, I just like to be told things about myself from people I’m close to… When it’s coming from people I haven’t known for long enough I can get a little frightened and suspicious. Had lots of people tell me those things to get something from me or try and worm their way into my life through flattery over the years, words don’t mean nearly as much as actions (Definitely has something to do with the way I was raised lmfao. Parent telling me I’m the scum of the earth who will do nothing with their life to telling me I’m the best and most talented child ever back to back rlly did something cray zee to my developing brain lmfaoo💀)

I like when people compliment my art in specific ways, I guess! I don’t know how else to phrase it lol, it makes me feel good about myself. Oh, and when people describe my personality and the way they view me. I don’t know if it makes me feel good about myself, but it’s insightful and I enjoy it.

Best answer is: I don’t care what words are used as long as it comes from a genuine place.

16:

Ill love you if you’re good to me in the ways that matter, in terms of platonic love. I’m pretty forgiving and patient when it comes to people, I’ll handle it and love someone regardless of mistreatment. I guess that’s a fault of mine but idk man I just let people make mistakes and hold them accountable based on severity. We’re just people. I try not to take it all personally, we all have our own ways of dealing with internal and external turmoil. I love to be loving, so I love when people are loving in return.

For romantic love, I’m demiromantic, so I’ll love you if I’ve known you for a long time and you spend lots of time with me at the baseline. It’s a checklist I go through in terms of compatibility lol, I won’t get into it. Romantic love and partnership is a conscious choice as well as a feeling. When I make that choice I stick with it, I’ve been with @itstomatojuice for a few years now and loved him for many more before we got together!! ^.^ So I’ll love you if you’re him!! ;3 (and if you hurt me I’ll love you if you hurt me and enjoy it LMFAO the way to my heart is just a cut away)

I just love when people care about me, even though I struggle to believe it. (It can drive some people up the wall with how much I need reassurance and proof that I’m loved before I believe it. I struggle a lot with trust)

#sorry my answers are weird today LOL I’m in a weird place #laceyspeak #ask #THANK YOUU FOR UR ASK DEAR BUD I hope they suffice :3 #lawpost

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dramatothethirdpower · 1 year ago

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OnlyFriends stray thoughts from episode 2 (as sent in my OnlyFriends gc as we watched it)

Oh sweet baby Nick... this isn't what you want!

Whoa okay, this is a LOT of sex for two people not in SOME kind of relationship

Eww, I'm your regular now? Like he's a prostitute?

Tell him, Nick!

I HATE YOU BOSTON! Don't fuck with that boy's head like that! Manipulative as fuck

Oh sweetie no, don't be jealous of Top, he's gross!

Aw, Ray is so soft. I wish I looked like that when I woke up in the morning

Oooh no, don't fall for it Sand. I saw that smile, but this is not the boy you are looking for

Why is Atom so familiar?? I hate him on sight so he must have been the bad guy in something..

Haha, no one else seems to think you have great taste in music, Ray

Nick baby, no, don't fixate like this

Do we think Boston has nefarious purposes for these cams? Do I just hate him so much I'm being paranoid? I don't trust hiiiiiim

Mew is so cute. Top is dressed like a dad. How is he the more sought after one??

Oh this is criiiiinge, stop it Top. How is Mew into this??

For real? FOR REAL? You're just going to let some old flame talk to you like that in front of Mew?? How is Mew not just storming away? I'm sorry but if someone told me they wanted to date me and then acted like this with someone else I'd be OUT

Haha, Nick is not thrilled that Sand and Boston know each other. I was really hoping for some hijinks with this reveal. I bet Nick assumes they slept together. Honestly, I assume everyone Boston interacts with is someone he's atleast tried to sleep with

I am not getting a good read here on Sand's reaction to Ray being here. It feel like maybe he wishes he weren't but in the kitchen less so? Is he just being kind of wary because Ray is such a chaos bomb?

Haha, Nick seeing Top. He does NOT like that he's here. Oh he's cyber stalking him. So relatable. (Baby just walk away. If you have to stalk his ex he's not worth iiiiit)

You're projecting a little bit there, Boston. Not everyone is desperate as you to fuck Top.

Oh my gosh, Nick wants to be official so bad, I feel awful for him

Why is no one dressed for a pool party? Also, how are they not all roasting in long sleeves??

Ok I NEED the Sand Top tea, cuz Sand hates that guy (same)

Boston you leave Ray alone! Let him pine in peace! He's not your little pawn!

I don't think Top cares because he likes Mew so much he's jealous, I think he's pissed he might not get there first. Creep.

Oh Mew baby, rubbing salt in the wound "rooting for" Ray and Sand

Ok, controlling much, Top? They're not even actually dating yet, Mew should cut him loose. He's been a giant red flag!

Haha, the lizard behind Sand is a paid actor

Top is being a pouty douche baby for no reason. Who the fuck trusts Boston? Also I'd be super pissed if someone said I was part of their checklist. Oh great, I'm a chore you check off.

Haha, Mew says not tonight, buddy. Don't blame him, that is not great energy Top is putting out

Really guys? You both have apartments. Why are we doing this in the parking lot. Ray is so needy... oh Sand WANTS to be convinced. This does not bode well for him.

Uh oh, Mew lost his keys, sure would be a shame if he stumbled after Top and saw something he shouldn't....

Oh no, all his people are fucking. (He calls Top first! Sweet boy... another way Top is fucking up)

He checked the phone?! SERIOUSLY? OMG dude. Poor Sand, he needed this reality check. He's gone and caught feels

SHOW THE VIDEO!!!! I don't buy it. Mew and Ray do not act like they've been together! I don't trust Boston as far as I can throw him.

This car is way too little for these activities

Please tell me this is a rough handjob, cuz there was no lube shown.

Oh no! Nick!!! Set them on fire Nick, no one would blame you!

Don't do it Mew!! He's gross!!! (From the preview)

#OnlyFriends the series #Episode 3 #Ramblings #Watching Now #Recap #only friends #onlyfriendstheseries

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btranwrites · 6 months ago

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Wesley is eager to show his new girlfriend to his parents, but can't stop feeling like something's wrong.

His parents had high standards, after all. But what were they? Somewhere within, Wesley felt a fleeting ghost of a worry, a whisper that he was missing something important. But its fingers were weak and limp, barely applying the weakest pressure on his throat, enough to hitch his breath for but a second, not quite strong enough for him to stop, for him to hang onto, for him to stop and scream for what was missing. Huh. No need to be so dramatic. Why stress over nothing? He was young, plenty of fish in the sea. He’d just got to find someone good enough, someone right, someone with a correct checklist. What else was he supposed to want from a partner?

Finally finished another chapter of Liam An, my ongoing novella that mixes superheroes with Lovecraftian horror. Last chapter, Liam, the protagonist, threw a drag party to draw in the potential culprit behind mysterious cases of missing people who lost memories, and ran into Wesley, his ex. However, it seems like Wesley does not remember their relationship, or even the fact that Liam, and Wesley himself, are gay.

Full chapter under the cut, or read on my website!

Liam An 4: Ill Correction

Intro post Chapter 1: Executive Intervention Chapter 2: Hall Business Chapter 3: Trench Complications

Yeah the guy was cute, sure, but come on. How could Adrianna not see this coming? How did she miss this? She poked at a pea on her plate, chasing it around with the fork as she racked her brains for the signs she could have missed. He was polite, appropriately flirtatious, though maybe a little stilted at times, but overall he seemed like a functioning adult man?

“This crazy thing happened that night at the bar, you won’t believe this mum,” Wesley, the adult man in question, still had a lot to go through, apparently. “I ran into this dude, Liam, used to know him. Absolutely crazy, flinging shit around and shouting and all, but it didn’t matter, because she texted me back!” Adrianna shot her head up and looked over; finally, he noticed her—oh. Never mind, already back to talking with mum. “I was elated, mum! Couldn’t believe it. Right away I—”

Adrianna doubted it even mattered she said anything or not; the past half hour was torturous. How long did dinners usually last? An hour? Two? Maybe if she was less desperate, she could have realised that being invited to a ‘cool and chill’ dinner with the parents at the family home after two weeks was a very glaring sign. Meeting the parents often meant the whole night, but that was the more serious type of parent-meeting. Right? Maybe this ‘chill’ one could do with an hour and a half? Would she need to climb out a window? Break her ankle? It was honestly tempting.

And to think she thought it was cute, that it couldn’t be this bad, not everyone grew distant from their parents, close ties with family could be a green flag, and oh god, she could just hear the group chats having a fantastic time flaying her ass until dawn tonight.

“—watched it, yes! Starlight is a very good cinema! Drinks were a little pricey, but there were—”

The mum—her white hair was gorgeous, honestly—was listening to her son with stars in her eyes, chin in one hand, fork in the other, her plate basically untouched, her attention devoted to her son regaling his apparently rapturous dates with Adrianna. Classic red plaid table cloth, maximalist plates and silverware, the white vase with sunflowers on the mid-century cabinets at the back… Fine, Adrianna could imagine the two of them framed in a very sweet, aww-inducing painting, and fine, maybe Adrianna wasn’t that close with her own parents, maybe her parents weren’t invested enough in her life, but was there not a more appropriate time and place for a conversation like this? You know, not in front of the date? Hello?

“—We did check out the park! Nice and sunny, just a little breezy—”

Maybe she could retry a chat with the dad?

He was sitting across the table from her, still deathly quiet. Eyes still daggers ready for blood. Still looking like she trampled over the family graves or something heinous, who even knew. Definitely not Adrianna.

She tried a sweet smile.

The daggers sharpened.

Or not.

Adrianna ducked her head and chased the pea with her fork again. Slip sliding around the plate all wet, slathered in salad dressing. At least it was having a better time than she was.

***

Wesley turned off the music from the car radio on the drive by himself back home. He wanted some silence to think.

He didn’t blame Adrianna for not wanting to meet again, not really. Disappointed, yes; it had been two weeks, after all, and he was excited to show her to his parents, but he didn’t blame her, not for how cold dad was. Mum was enthusiastic, but why did dad not like her that much? An office job doing things with computers, so it wasn’t like she was a partying, unemployed gold digger or anything.

Oh she could party alright, but still, she was presentable tonight, no? She didn’t show too much skin or whatever. Not that Wesley would complain. Or that he had anything to complain about her. Nice breasts, slim waist, long flowing hair, she checked everything on the list. Nothing was wrong.

Or was there? He grunted. His parents had high standards, after all. But what were they? Somewhere within, Wesley felt a fleeting ghost of a worry, a whisper that he was missing something important. But its fingers were weak and limp, barely applying the weakest pressure on his throat, enough to hitch his breath for but a second, not quite strong enough for him to stop, for him to hang onto, for him to stop and scream for what was missing.

Huh. No need to be so dramatic. Why stress over nothing? He was young, plenty of fish in the sea. He’d just got to find someone good enough, someone right, someone with a correct checklist.

What else was he supposed to want from a partner?

II.

Brett fiddled over some notebooks from the side table, heaping a couple onto his lap, flipping over them as though he was looking for specific pages, gauging the vibe from his peripheral vision in the most uncomfortable armchair in the history of psychotherapist armchairs. Those wooden yet cushioned creatures—such a paradoxical existence—would have to do a lot of heavy lifting to make a room like this more comfortable, more breathable, no matter how well-ventilated and filled with sunlight and calming décor it was; not with clients looking like these.

Their platinum hair was lush, expertly styled, effortlessly crowning bright, wizened faces with but a few wrinkles, and only the fashionable ones. And clothing? Dark, of immaculate, no doubt premium textiles that warmed the body but fenced the soul, guarding intimacy only for a select few. If Alan was still here, Brett would have joined him in casting them as some sort of middle-class extras, ones that exuded the arrogant comfort only afforded by a lifetime unsoiled by hard work but undoubtedly stilted by decorum and etiquette.

He chastised himself; that was unfair. Hardships come in different shades, plaguing hearts and minds across class and generational divides. They were in his office, after all, and not even looking at each other. Joshua Flament was drilling a hole in the left wall with his gaze, and Mary Atkinson’s frown was setting ablaze the window behind Brett.

He stole a glance at the tealight candle burning patiently on the cabinet next to the full-length mirror leaning against the wall to his right.

Its reflection darkened, the lighting and colour dropping a shade colder.

His heart skipped a beat. He’s here.

Brett didn’t know why the Man in the Mirror was interested in these two. Letting him watch what was going to unfold was obviously not ethical, but when presented with the choice Brett found it wasn’t even a dilemma for him. Alan was worth any price.

Right, time to get this started. Brett picked a sheet from a notebook like he found what he was looking for, grabbed a pen, and clicked it. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. and Mrs. Flament. I understand you came with concerns for your son Wesley, who’s not here today. What’s troubling you?”

Joshua pried his eyes from the wall and threw their gaze at his wife. Mary stopped burning the world outside the window with her mind and glared at her husband, who rolled his eyes and turned to Brett. “Our son is seeing a woman.”

“Which is a great thing!” Mary exclaimed. “It’s a divine miracle—”

“It is not!” Joshua turned to Brett. “He came out to us as gay ten years ago, and—”

“And I told you then, which you agreed with me back then as well by the way, that it was a phase!” Brett managed a straight face when Mary looked back at him. “I keep telling him he’s upset for no reason. I prayed for our son’s salvation every single day since, and finally, God rewarded His faithful.”

Joshua looked offended. “Did you even mean it when you told him you love him? Was it through gritted teeth and crossed fingers? Christ, Mary!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I do! Love the sinner, not the sin. God works in mysterious ways, and he tested our faith over this difficult decade. You should be more grateful, Josh, and not insult His grace by wasting time and money on…” She looked around his office and somehow managed to bypass him completely, fingers vaguely feeling for something foul in the air. “On whatever this is.”

Wow. Like Brett wasn’t even there at all.

“This is our son, and I thought you would want to be more involved in having a professional opinion on our son’s wellbeing.”

“Should have been more steadfast in your faith instead, Josh.”

“Why did you even agree to go with me, then?”

Mary spared Brett a glance, then back at her husband. “I don’t agree with you. Our son is fine, he’s recovering. But if this will let you sleep soundly, then a few hours are okay to pass.”

Joshua rubbed his face, almost pleading, before giving up and turned back to Brett. “Our son came out to us way back when. It took us, or me at least,” he cast another accusing glance at his wife, who rolled her eyes again, “a few difficult years to come to terms with it, to learn and to understand. Now he’s acting like he was never into men at all.”

Mary shrugged. “Or he came to his senses and realised he actually does like women.”

“That’s absolutely not what happened Mary! Can you imagine the boy not even recognising the name Liam? ‘Oh the guy I used to go to college with, what about him?’ That Liam wasn’t just ‘some guy;’ we spent years trying to… trying to break them apart, Brett. And breaking our boy in the process. And realising how much I was hurting him.

“Now he scrunches his face at the name like something offensive… something disgusting. Like the face I must have made when he first brought up the notion that he’d prefer the company of men to women. Like when… like when I was still yelling at him. God, I was not a good dad, but… partying all night? Picking up girls at bars like a sleazy, uneducated brute? Even graduate Wesley was not that much of an excuse of a man. It would be one thing for him to come out as bisexual, but this… this acting like he was never gay to begin with, is him back in the closet, or even something worse.”

Mary waved a hand. “Why does it even matter, Josh? He was happy with the girl, isn’t that what’s important?”

“Was he, Mary? Was he? He didn’t even look at her that night, he was talking to you. Reporting every minutiae on how much of a lady-killer he was being. What if he got into a cult? What if she got him into a cult and brainwashed him?” Joshua looked at him. “How do I know my son was not brainwashed? I… I don’t know what my son is going through. How do I know if he’s OK?”

Brett rushed in the last few words of his furious scribbling onto his notes and put down his pen. At the periphery of his vision, the darkening had departed from the mirror, and so did the candle flame, a wisp of smoke rising from its wick. There had been no wind; the window was closed.

His work was satisfactory.

“Why are you smiling?” Joshua asked, frowning.

Brett looked back at the elderly man. “Ah, I’m always happy to see parents caring this much about their children. I myself don’t have that,” he didn’t bother looking at Mary; she wasn’t interested, and he doubted she’d be returning anyway. “It does sound concerning for your son, and there’s a lot to go through there. Let’s start, shall we?”

***

That evening, when the sun had set completely, no light adorned that same room except for candle flames, dancing gently by the dozens on the windowsill, on the desk, and the cabinets.

Brett lit the last of the candles and stood before the mirror. It was like looking down at a lake from a dock after nightfall. Lanterns only lit your path on land; their light breached not the domain of the deep, not strong enough to assure you nothing was staring back.

His work was satisfactory, Brett told himself. There was nothing to worry about. He put down the lighter, took a deep breath, and said to the empty room where sunlight had forsaken, “Mirror Man, Mirror Man, come to my mirror, Mirror Man.”

In the mirror, the candle flames winked away into the darkness. If it was like a lake before, then the lakebed had collapsed into an abyss. Its surface rippled, not like from a sudden breeze, but from undercurrents, of something moving, emerging. Then a shape of a man formed in the mirror before Brett, wearing an immaculately fitting tailored suit as black as the deepest night, and a tie as red as the finest wine. Shadows concealed his face, but where his eyes should be the candles once again danced, twin pinpricks of lanterns, of crackling promises.

Brett cast his head down; he did not dare look into those eyes for too long. “Thank you for coming, Man in the Mirror. I hope I did well this morning?”

A rumbling voice replied. “You did. I have what I needed. Payment was satisfactory.” There was a pause; a pressure Brett did not realise was on him lifted. “Seeing you called me here, I assume this is where you wish my service rendered?”

Brett lifted his head. The candle eyes returned their gaze on him, and the pressure returned. But the deep did not feel cold or biting. It was warm, comfortable. Safe. “Yes… I…” He struggled with sudden need, eyes again yanked downward. “I want to remember. Our first night.”

“That can be arranged. Is that what you desire as completion for our transaction, Brett Crawford?”

It was the easiest answer. “Yes.”

“Then when you are ready to conclude business, Brett Crawford, look into my eyes.”

He took a breath and looked up again. The instant his eyes met the pinpricks of candles, his mind fell forward. It rushed past the horrid flashes of the last night at the hospital, past the night of the accident, past the many anniversaries, the many fights and the many laughs, to the first months… the first night.

The onslaught was over the moment it started, and once again Brett was back in his office. Half the candles had whisked away, the rest casting frantic shadow tendrils on the walls, flinging to a silent tune of manic ecstasy.

Before him stood the Man in the Mirror in the flesh, but he wasn’t in the suit and tie as he was in the mirror. Perhaps it was the play of shadows and candlelight, but to Brett he had on the exact button up and jeans that Alan wore that night, when Brett was staying late for work and Alan offered to bring over dinner. They had just been seeing each other for a few weeks, and it was such a sweet gesture, and he smelled so good then, like spice, like tobacco, like fragrant sweat and immense tang and exactly like what his nose was savouring here and now.

Brett gripped the ledge of the desk like a lifeline. His booming heart commanded him to step forward, but his feet were leadened with fear, fear of somehow shattering the candlelit dream before him. But the dream, oh it did not shatter, it took his trembling hand and placed it on that chest. There under his palm Brett felt the right fabric, the right warmth and hardness, drowning in the right scent, his head swimming in all the ways the light and shadow caressed the little he could see of the face before him being so right, so correct.

“You’re not him, I know you’re not,” his voice broke, “but oh God, I want to believe.”

Warm breath breezed through his lips, tasting like the red Alan brought that night. Shimmering eyes held his gaze. “Tonight, you are allowed to. Tonight, I am not the ghost from the mirror. Tonight, Brett Crawford, history is just a bad dream. Tonight, forget what hurt and remember what didn’t. Tonight, Brett, call me Alan.”

“Alan,” he let go of the ledge and leaped into an open embrace, landing on warm cotton and cologne that were very much still there, very much did not vanish. “Alan. Oh God, I miss you so much.”

Large tender hands held his face, fingers and lips burrowing through his hair, dragging burning wetness down across his forehead, his cheek, and nestled in his ear, imparting soft murmurs like oak, like honey, like crackling lantern flames promising the moon itself, in a voice not from the mirror, but the voice robbed from him for many years too long.

Alan told him, “I am here, love. And I missed you, too.”

III.

Wesley was huffing and puffing his way down the stairs to the gym’s showers in the basement, furious. Weights and sweats were supposed to let off steam, but an hour of strenuous work later he was just more pissed off. Why were there so many people? Especially the guys. Yeah yeah, they were buff, they were good-looking, they lifted heavy, they were huge, he got it, got it loud and clear, now could they not get off his face?

Not that they were rude or anything; they were perfectly polite, courteous even, but Wesley was still pissed for some reason. All this lifting didn’t make him any less agitated, just made it worse.

What a waste of time. At least the showers were downstairs so he could walk away for a bit.

Wesley spun around the corner of the exposed concrete of the stair rails, and almost ran into a half-naked man if he didn’t catch himself.

Or not.

“Woah there, buddy!” The annoyingly smiley man said, built like a brick wall, because of fucking course he was; there was just a towel loosely hanging onto a very slim waist, underlining a very defined stomach, and Wesley doubted the guy would even mind if it dropped.

Of course Wesley would mind! God, why was he so irritated?

The guy raised his palms defensively, backing off; Wesley realised then he was glaring murder at him. “Good evening,” the man hesitantly nodded, looking apprehensive at Wesley’s frown, and walked off to the drawers.

Wesley sighed, frustrated, mostly with himself now. The gym wasn’t a strange territory to him, seeing sweaty half-naked men there wasn’t new to him. Why had the past few weeks been so weird? Liam turning out to be a fag out of nowhere, Adrianna dropping him, failing his parents again… It was like something tectonic shifted beneath his feet, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what went out of place, or missing.

He stripped in the thankfully empty locker room, trying to calm his breath by focusing on the scents of air freshener and sports shampoo, the sterile white tiles, the straight cut wood panels, all clean and orderly and correct and maddening. He wrapped on a towel and left for the showers. Christ, maybe he could look up those hippy places where you could go smash stuff?

He stopped by the sink, catching his half-naked reflection, tiny in the yawning, massive minimalist mirror. Wesley was sweaty, like the lot of the men upstairs, though obviously not as big or built; he didn’t look too bad himself, but hold on. Why was he breathing so hard? Almost hyperventilating?

Wesley felt like nails were scratching from the inside of his chest, like he should be feeling something, but he didn’t know what.

What was wrong with him? What was missing?

The lights went out in the bathroom.

Not all of them did, but enough that darkness undraped around him. There were no commotions he could hear above, so surely this was just an electrical fault, nothing to worry about. But Wesley’s eyes locked in on the mirror, now like a vast still lake, at the somehow still illuminated but shadow-shrouded, naked reflection that seemed to fray at the edges before him. It had to be his own—it was a mirror after all—but the man in the mirror had the size he didn’t have, with muscular definition that rippled and mesmerised and Wesley thought of Liam.

He thought of Liam, he thought of Liam naked, of Liam under him, on top of him, of whispers and touches that clawed and burned. He gasped, clutching at his head, but the images blackened his vision with nauseating memories he did not have, laughs he did not remember, Liam in his arms, face buried in the nape of his neck, wet hot tears and choking sobs and wracking, retching guilt, oh God they are my parents, Liam, I cannot do this, I’m sorry, you will find someone else, I will miss you, and that voice, oh that voice.

That voice, telling him he will miss him too.

A voice so alien yet so familiar, a forgotten comfort, something engrooved by the weight of years then ripped out and discarded, only rust marks left behind. It was a younger voice, one Wesley heard just a few weeks back older, more matured, more hardened in the alley at the back of that stupid bar, a voice laced with anger and hurt, asking him, accusing him, what were they?

What were they, Wesley?

They were friends, what else could they be?

But the nails inside his chest must have drawn blood, because there was pain, but also sorrow, so much sorrow, so much of it that he could not understand what for. Wesley clung onto the edge of the sink, but lost grip, knees planting on the tiled floor. Bleary eyes showed him phantoms: the lights were gone, but the reflection in the mirror above him still stood tall, flickering as though lit by house fires; a reflection of a man, eyes of smouldering crimson flames glaring down at him.

A naked, beautiful man.

A naked, beautiful Liam.

Wesley did not know how he could possibly have known; after all, he'd never seen Liam naked now, did he? But that chest, that body screamed familiar. It screamed at him, and Wesley too wanted to scream back not in recognition, but that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, something bad, a horrible, ill thing to be corrected away, but those crimson eyes were relentless, blazing past the terror and demand to be right and correct and slammed straight into his heart.

It thumped.

Wesley clutched at his chest. In the split-second ringing of that drumbeat within, he understood what had been missing.

Adrianna checked the list, Adrianna was correct, the way he was corrected. From what, he could not remember, but his bones ached in the hollowness left behind, the lack of something primal, something essential, the absence of histories erased, of decades washed away.

In that heartbeat, there were no lists to check. In that heartbeat there was only a swansong of want. It was not right. It was not correct. But it rang like thunder.

It rang true.

Somewhere within, a tripwire snapped. Pain seared through him like fire, and nothing else registered. Wesley again remembered nothing, nothing but blinding, all-consuming rage.

IV.

Fuck! That did not get through to him! Inside the Glasslit Void, Liam discarded the illusion of his naked body off his Shard Reaper body suit and jumped through the mirror, landing on the tiled floor of the gym bathroom. Wesley was writhing on the floor, screams mixing up with choked cries as his body contorted in on itself.

“Wesley!” Liam rushed over and knelt down, reaching for his mind. It was a frantic, incoherent mess, and the heart he managed to pry open was a dwindling inferno. The lights flickered hard; shadows fought over their dimming brightness. Show was over; this was no longer necessary. He willed the darkness back to the Void.

The darkness did not respond.

Wesley was crying out, but it was a bestial sound. Black shards flipped in and out throughout his body, shadows coalescing around him, alien, shining black tendrils squirming over themselves, rushing towards his chest where the fire was fading. Liam strained his will, commanding the shadows back.

They did not budge.

These were not his darkness. These came from elsewhere.

“Wesley, Wesley,” Liam tried. “Remember! Hold on to it! Do not let go—”

The flame inside Wesley snuffed out. A shockwave blasted from the core of the once-again vanquished man, pushing Liam back.

All the ruckus must have been loud enough, because there were heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs. Liam snapped his neck back to catch two guys with only towels on, three others still in their workout clothes shining fresh sheens of sweat, barging into the carnage he was now in the middle of.

He shouted. “Evacuate now! This is Hall business!”

They looked behind him, eyes widened, and ran back out.

Liam looked back. Before him, whimpering, in a form that was barely human, was an amalgamation of blackened, writhing glass shards that frayed into nasty fibrils and coiled back into themselves by the second. Gelled black ink bled from the shifting cracks, and in the ashes of the extinguished radiance in his chest, a crucifix of rusting nails jammed through his heart.

That did not look good.

Ending on bad terms or not, it pained him to see anyone like this.

Liam tapped the side of his head. “Jamie, do you copy?”

His earpiece replied. “Roger, Shard Reaper. Status report?”

“I’ve located Wesley Flament. He is… unresponsive, potentially turning hostile. Request backup on standby. We’re at Palm Bay Gym, Eastcourt.”

“Any civilians?”

“Yes, it’s quite busy. I’ve told them to evacuate, trying to control the target now.”

The Wesley-formed bundle of shifting shards and fibrils and bleeding, fraying black goo rose up. It turned around, hungry, empty eye sockets stared at him, the same pits that stared him into paralysis behind the Trench a few weeks back, now simmering with rage.

Liam hurried. “Actually, dispatch backup ASAP. This is looking nasty.”

The Wesley-thing roared and sprinted at him. With mirrored spikes, holy fuck.

“Reaper! What’s happening?”

He shouted, “Jamie, get help here now!” and ducked to the side.

Wesley-Thing slammed head-first into the mirrored wall. Glass smashed against glass, a thousand splinters spraying all over the pristine bathroom. Liam pounded the steps up the stairs back to the gym ground floor.

Gym bros, jocks, men in tight-fitting shirts and shorts looked at him, their faces in various stages of concern and uncertainty, but apparently not enough to forfeit their lifting session for the night.

He shouted. “Why are you all still here?! Hall of Heroes containment in progress! Evacuate now!”

Some stood up and started leisurely packing away their stuff. The rest went back to their sets.

Jesus Christ. Liam took a deep breath, gathered his will, and in a snap plunged the entire gym floor into heavy shadow except for emergency lights, which brightened like miniature lighthouses in a sudden storm. Then with a massive psychic blast, the Shard Reaper unleashed visions of spiders, snakes, all manners of creepy crawlers, indeterminate contorting screaming faces flooding the vision and mind of everyone. His voice boomed, “LEAVE. NOW.”

And now there were screams and running, people finally scrambling off benches, machines and racks. Thank you.

Wesley-Thing pounded up the stairs, roaring; more people screamed, everyone picking up their pace dashing for the exit. The dimness did not deter the Thing’s vision; its head locked in on Liam immediately and started sprinting.

He jumped into a mirror and out the other side of the gym floor.

The Thing corrected its course, and charged at him again.

The Shard Reaper was not a fighter; Liam used his mind to intimidate, manipulate, and quite often seduce his way to his objectives. His muscles were just for show, and the only pounding he was proficient in was not the physically violent type; that he left for other Heroes of the Hall. Now there was an inhuman thing in the vague shape of his first love charging at him at full-speed, and the violent pounders of the Hall had yet to show their faces.

He could just fuck off to the Glasslit Void and wait it out, but that would risk Wesley-Thing turning its attention on the escaping gym goers.

Okay, this better work.

Liam backed away slowly. Wesley-Thing kept its charge, roaring all the way, all sunken eyes and a pit for mouth, grating shards shining a sickening darkness, coiling around the damn crucifix.

The rest of the gym goers had evacuated. When the Thing was a few paces away, he cut off the lights completely, and slipped into the sudden darkness.

The Thing hit empty air, and from the shadows Liam landed on its back. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his legs around its waist, spun around, and pinned it down on the floor, straddling on top.

Bedroom gymnastics had limited cross-disciplinary applications.

Before the Thing could get its bearing, Liam yanked the crucifix off its chest, drawing a sharp gasp. He threw it off the side, hitting the carpeted floor with a thud, and withdrew the darkness from the lights. In artificial dawn, whimpering underneath him was Wesley, eyes red and wet.

“Liam?”

Oh thank god. “Wesley? Wesley, can you hear me?”

A trembling hand reached for him. Wesley’s face crumbled as he sobbed. “Please help. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Liam caught the hand with both of his. “We will, I promise we will, okay? Help is coming. The Hall will be here soon, and we will—”

Red wet eyes collapsed back into hungry pits. Trembling lips slit open wide, too wide, into a mad grin filled with pointed teeth that rolled over themselves like gears in a machine. “You thought it was that easy, didn’t you?”

Fuck! He gripped the Thing’s wrists. “What the fuck are you? What have you done to Wesley?”

“Hello to you too, Shard Reaper. Or should I say, Liam?”

He froze.

“Good thinking on the crucifix, but that’s more decorative than anything, sorry boo. And don’t worry, I’m not ratting you out, where’s the fun in that? I’m very keen on you, Reaper, and your mirrors. This is getting real interesting.”

The windows smashed in. Yellow Watch landed, wings spread wide knocking over benches and weights, shimmering hammer in his hand. Oathbearer rolled off his back, unsheathing her giant sword. The Eye of Magnus followed in from outside, the green halo radiating from his staff softening as he landed softly a few paces nearby. They started running over to him.

“Looks like our chat is unfortunately short,” the Thing said. “Lovely meeting you, Shard Reaper, we will meet again. I shall leave you a parting gift.”

“You are going nowhere—”

Wesley’s back jerked up with a sickening crack and a soul-wrenching cry. His eyes were human again, wide in utter terror, helpless when his neck snapped to the side, cutting short the scream.

His wrists in Liam’s hands went limp, too weak to hang on to what was missing, what was corrected away.

“Wesley? Wesley!”

#writeblr #my writing #original writing #queer sff #queer horror #gay fiction #lovecraftian #cw: slurs #cw: conversion therapy #liam an

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bainhardt · 6 months ago

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Curse Crackers really fun

gotta find more games like this and Gravity Circuit, love me some tight movement control retro style platformers or whatever

guess I'll just crosspost my Steam review here for posterity

Curse Crackers is so much fun. This is one of those games where you wish you could find excuses to keep playing even after you're finished. It's a good game. I say buy it, especially if it's on sale. The rest of this is just going to be me running my mouth.

The core gameplay is simply a delight. I love "get to the end of the level" platformers and this one is fun nearly at all times. All the different ways of jumping around are fun, bouncing off enemies or your buddy Chime is fun, finding secret items and hidden doors is fun. Even dying can be pretty fun because respawning is quick and painless and gets you right back to stubbornly trying that specific way you want to clear the screen again until it works (maybe that's just me). This is also one of my favorite character concepts I've played in a platformer. An acrobat with a persistent-projectile-platform-throwable-thing you can use in so many ways is just plain cool and a joy to fiddle around with and figure out as you play the game. You can dunk Chime into fatal pitfalls so he'll bounce back up to save you, and pulling it off in moments of clutch feels incredible.

Having hidden Roses to collect or Medals earned by beating stages with special conditions are natural choices; they keep you playing or even re-playing stages, and they're uniform across all stages, so it's always easy to check what you've done. The game also offering a small sampling of unlockable upgrade-type items makes sense, giving you new abilities to toy around with in a limited capacity. Some of them are endgame locked because they break the movement wide open, but that's fun in its own way. Some of them (Food) are contextual, but then afterwards become purchasable-consumables to bring along to stages as you please, which I think is strange. If they're single-use, I'm just never going to use them. All upgrade items are quest locked, which means whether or not you even notice they exist will depend on how much side content you check out.

There's a lot of other stuff in this game outside the stage-based main game and it's all... fine? But I think some of it distracts from the focus of the experience, and there's virtually no synthesis of these elements. There's a world map (fairly normal admittedly), side areas that aren't stages, side quests, and TONS of NPCs and dialogue. Some of the collectibles are straight-up books you can read in a library. Many are not uniformly distributed between stages - Swords, Tablet Pieces, Lost NPCs, and postgame Spirits all join the Books comprising a dizzying array of hidden goods. There is an admittedly cute in-game way of checking collectible progress, but it costs money, and I think it wouldn't have been too much to ask for some kind of stage checklist in the menu if they were going to be this random. I played all of the stages first, then went back to do most of the quests and talk to everyone. I ran all over doing fetch quests for people, revisiting almost every stage multiple times, learning who all the characters are and a lot about them and the world of the game...

But after all's said and done I still don't understand WHY this is all done this way. NPCs never show up in the stages or anything, and while a couple quests culminate in special extra stages, that's about it. All of this side content does not truly "matter" to the main game whatsoever and feels like a different game alongside it. I ended up playing all of this content and unlocking all achievements because the core game is so fun, but it felt like a mountain of extra effort. That's not to say any of this fluff couldn't be of interest to some players out there, and it is impressive in its sheer scope. But for me, it has absolutely nothing to do with why this game is fun. Personally, getting to play more stages no questions asked would have been good enough.

I'll say it again for good measure: it's a fun game. If you like unique platformers, buy it.

#Jeffu plays Curse Crackers

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studiomkm · 6 months ago

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Been replaying the remakes of Spyro & Medievil on my PS4 the last several days and OH MY GOD!!!

I don’t remember the graphics being this damn good?!

And the games have so much PERSONALITY!

This is the best example of the stuff I miss about old school gaming back in the 90s & 2000s. There’s no worrying about checklisting achievements, whether or not you remembered to download DLC, an emphasis on art style over raw graphical fidelity (I know I was gushing about the graphics earlier but I’m just saying no other games LOOK like Spyro or Medievil)

You’re just a hero on an adventure. Meeting fun & (usually) unique characters, exploring colorful levels, powering up and taking down every bad guy in sight

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking modern games. All I’m saying is that something really special got lost along the way and I’d actually FORGOTTEN that.

Sony needs to give its PS1 heroes some long overdue love in the form of new games… or at the very least a couple more remakes (Especially for Medievil 2. Give me a chance to give Dan and his cute mummy girlfriend a happy ending)

#gaming rant #playstation #classic games #90s kid #thinking about it #this is probably why Psychonauts resonated with me so hard

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pedrospatch · 1 year ago

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oh this checklist idea is so clever and so sexy! and what a way to kick it off. this was so hot. idk why, but that little flashback scene them meeting at the hardware store had me giggling, kicking my feet—i think it’s time for me to go to Lowe’s or Ace Hardware and look lost, maybe i’ll find myself a hot southern man with a contracting business to help me out

reader is so precious, and i don’t mean that in like a patronizing way at all, but seriously it was really cute to see her all embarrassed meanwhile Joel is completely unfazed like “c’mon baby let’s do it” now that’s a whole ass real man 😮‍💨

the smut was hot, the way he talked to her was hot, everything about this was so hot. thank you for sharing this, i’ve got my eye on the whole checklist but breath play is calling to me.

Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see.

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter.

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.”

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears.

“Need any help, miss?”

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen.

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store.

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?”

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.”

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.”

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?”

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?”

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it.

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.”

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house.

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face.

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?”

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?”

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.”

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.”

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass?

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own.

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides.

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap.

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!”

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?”

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.”

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his.

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager.

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does.

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body.

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him.

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you.

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over.

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue.

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes.

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours.

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside.

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?”

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling.

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin.

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?”

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you.

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him.

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line.

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?”

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.”

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone.

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?”

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this.

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.”

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath.

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute.

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.”

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?”

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat.

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed.

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you.

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?”

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier.

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.”

#vee’s recs #joel miller x reader

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purplesurveys · 1 year ago

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1766

Would you rather visit The Eiffel Tower or the Egyptian Pyramids? I'd love to go see the pyramids, even though Reddit has heavily implied to me that Egypt isn't the most tourist-friendly place on Earth. Would be a cool thing to tick off my checklist though.

Would you be surprised if your most recent ex called you tonight? Yup, that will never happen so it would be extremely surprising.

Do you need to lose or gain weight? I think I'm at more or less the ideal range now, but for the most part I've needed to gain as I'm often underweight.

Do you think you have a disorder but haven’t been properly diagnosed yet? I'm almost certain there's at least one mental disorder hanging around in there - most likely ADHD.

What is the population of the city you live in? A little under 900,000.

How many pairs of jeans do you own? Somewhere over 10, which is already too many for me tbh haha. I like having choices.

When did you last vacuum your room? Couple of weeks ago.

Have you ever put on or lost a significant amount of weight? The last time either one of these happened was when I lost a lot of weight post-breakup. I've deleted all photos of myself that were managed to be taken at the time because I could hardly recognize my own face and body.

On a scale of 1-5, how often do you curse? Probably a 4 because while I do it frequently, I'm also watchful of the situations I do it in. I wouldn't curse at work or in super public places.

What is the worst thing you’ve ever smelled? Rotten eggs or that infection I got on my foot when I was 11. What’s your favorite social media platform? Reddit.

Name someone with brown eyes. Almost everyone I know has dark brown eyes because, well, that's just how Filipino genes roll.

Do you know what your next injection will be? Most likely just another round of Covid boosters if it comes down to it. I have nothing lined up any time soon though.

Does anyone call you darling? If so who? Nope. That's not a common term of endearment where I live.

If you had to have a cartoon character tattooed to you what would it be? I could go with Pluto so that it can be dog-related.

You have to dye your hair two colours, what do you choose? Pink and orange, just like Hayley Williams in 2013. I've *ALWAYS* wanted to try out that half-and-half style that she did but I'm just way too cowardly to actually push through with it hahaha.

If you could would you look at your future self? Yes. I hate uncertainty and being able to see how my future self would be doing can fix that for me.

Who was your first serious relationship? My first and probably last ex.

If you had to cut a parent out of your life who would you cut out? I hate this question.

If you had to get a piercing right now what would you get done? I would get a nose or lip ring.

Who is the #1 person/thing in your life? I'd put myself at the top of my priorities, honestly.

What are two things you wish you never did? 1) Stop talking to Sofie in college and 2) be an ass of a teenager.

Would you rather have three personal wishes or world peace? I'd get the wishes; I'm a bit pessimistic when it comes to the concept of world peace in that I don't think it will ever be achievable.

What were/is your high school colors? Gold, white, blue.

When someone sneezes, do you say “Bless you,” or “God Bless you?” Just bless you, if I do catch myself greeting someone post-sneeze. I usually just ignore.

Do you ever look at someone cute, and automatically make a move? No.

What are two things you are excited to do in the near future? Get my year-end bonus and use said bonus to go Christmas shopping, hehehe.

Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement? I live in a house with my family.

Are you one of those people who like to spell out numbers? Not because I like it but because that's the rule that journalism sets, lol. It's why I spell out one to ten, but use numbers for the rest.

Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? Kleo and Leigh, who have consecutive birthdays.

Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I don't have Photoshop; I never learned how to use it lmao.

Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? I know they never understood why I like wrestling so much so maybe that, yeah.

Leggings with denim shorts; yes or no? Let's leave those in the past.

Do you plan your meals in any way? No tbh I just eat whatever I want. I've never been watchful which I know isn't the healthiest thing to do.

Were you in the scouts when you were young? No.

How many people could sleep in your home? (Not counting floor space; beds and couches only) I would say 7 is the maximum before it starts feeling crowded/not comforable.

Have you ever made a hole-in-one at mini-golf? I've never even played any sort of golf besides on Wii Sports.

What genre was the last song you listened to? Who provided the vocals? K-pop. It was a song by Seventeen.

Truthfully, is there someone you used to date that you miss? No.

If you could go forward in time and see your life 5 years from now, what would you hope to see? I'd start simple and just hope I see myself still alive by then.

Are you more comfortable with men or women? Women.

Who came over last? A friend of my sister.

Has one of your friends ever tried to “hook you up?” No, they know better than that.

What is your card game of choice? I don't have one. Cards confuse me lol

What is your favourite books series? I never really had one.

If you eat oatmeal, do you add water or milk to it and what’s your favorite flavor? Oatmeal is so gross. I had to eat it everyday at a certain point as a kid that I just want to avoid that lumpy bland mess now.

Was the last video you watched on YouTube a music video and if not, what was it of? No. It was a compilation of Friends scenes because Matty Perry.

Has anyone you know personally ever won the lottery and if so, how much did they win and would you or have you ever played the lottery? I don't know anyone who has and I personally never would. Better safe than sorry.

What was the last thing someone has sincerely thanked you for? The second to the last Grab delivery staff who came to our house had seemed genuinely surprised and thankful for the tip I gave.

What band, celebrity, etc. do you know the most information about and who would you like to learn more about? Probably Audrey Hepburn. I'm not interested in knowing more about anyone else's life.

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