#If you like to you can also write me on this!

[humanjarvis]

lads LIs when you're hesitant to initiate kisses

sylus understands your hesitancy to make yourself vulnerable, but he also can't stand to see you unfulfilled. the first couple times he catches you staring at his lips, he offers nothing but lazy blinks and slow smirks, challenging you to come to him first. but when you look away in uncertainty one too many times, seemingly content to watch your own desires slip away as long as it saves you from embarrassment, he saunters toward you, maintaining eye contact all the way. placing one hand on your hip and the other on your chin, he bends to capture your lips with his, making you stumble with his intensity. his grip on you only tightens when he breaks the kiss, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he tugs you toward his lips. when you lose your balance and fall into his embrace, you realize his game: he’s making you kiss him first 

zayne empathizes with your shyness and hesitancy, afraid to so much as look at you the wrong way in case he offends you. since you’re both too frozen in overthought to make the first move, you don’t become intimate as quickly as most couples, trading physical closeness for emotional understanding. when he walks you to your door after a visit to the bakery, he leaves you with a warm goodnight hug, and you both assume the other is satisfied. only when you think he’s asleep on the sofa one evening and press a fond kiss to his cheek does he realize you share his private desires. the next day, after stoically psyching himself up for 20 minutes, he finds you in the kitchen and kisses you deeply, a pink tinge on his cheeks when he pulls away

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

a/n: anon who asked me if i’d ever write for zayne and i hinted at later this week this is not what i was talking about don’t worry, just an impromptu writing exercise to convince myself i’m not washed. also while this technically counts for xavier and raf i’m the least familiar with their cards so idk if/when i can write anything much longer than this for them (love them tho)

[angelesca]

a soon-to-be-husband's plan for successful marriage! w.c. ~900

requested by: @kimura-uzuri lots of kisses as per the request, suggestive, all of them are idiots in love and mega pathetic (just how we like 'em amirite) added some extra characters & stretched the prompt, but the core remains the same - hopefully you don't mind :)) (!! written before playing 3.1! only seen some bits and pieces)

anaxagoras's "all according to calculation" love letter!

to my dearest, if you were to reject me, i think i'd cry with my one eye since our fateful encounter, i've found myself... happy agitated, with these bothersome feelings aglaea said it was "love". hah. what does she know?, aroused by, simply, your presence in my orbit. it nags endlessly, claws at my throat when i breathe, these insignicant matters should afford me no pleasure... yet, the heart is no longer a master of itself, desperately wrestling from your grip, but inevitably chained to your smile that is interwoven with my memories. i also cannot forget how you suplexed me after our first kiss my lips spring and curve at an accord of their own when you spare as little as a glance at me. to who else can be ascribed such a feat? congratulations i guess a scholar's instinct is to question in the face of adversity. and questions must be accompanied by answers. as i write this to you, i have finally sumrised the truth. why i feel what i do, i must acknowledge it now... i adore you. i am eternally yours-- i must spend my life with you. ... *unintelligible scribbling*

anaxagoras looks up from his page, staring at you. "did that work?"

work? it didn't even try. "what? what are you- why did you read me a whole love letter? i didn't even know you had it in your bones to write sappy romance."

anaxagoras's eye twitches. he took that to heart. his formula for the perfect proposal is breaking, time to move onto plan b.

you throw your hands on your hips. "what's with you?" kiss. "you just came home after-" kiss. "-being away for so long." kiss. "is something wrong with your head?" kiss. "stop that! it won't distract me from your failure of a proposal."

"tch." anaxa clicks his tongue, slumping defeatedly like a child who got caught red-handed. so much for his perfect plan. well, when all else fails, there's only one final strategy: "well? are we getting engaged?"

you sigh. "you could've said that in the first place..." kiss. "..."

little did you know, that was a display of anaxagoras's restraint. the power of a scholar comes from more than their words, you learned the hard way, sore in bed the next day.

phainon's "super special, totally epic °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°" checklist!

1. i miss my partner so much... (´-ω-`) must return to okhema 2. buy a ring (maybe ask aglaea?) (ugh, i can't let mydei know or he'll tease me) 3. ??? 4. become husband!!! (☆ω☆)

step 1. miss my partner... check. duh. ┐(‘～` )┌ return to okhema? check.

step 2. buy a ring. check. aglaea, with a stifled chuckle, gladly helped the clueless phainon pick out a ring perfect for you. after all, someone who pairs an orange shirt with purple pants could hardly be trusted with picking out an engagement ring. successfully avoided mydei's keen eyes.

step 3. ???

phainon stares at you. "???"

"???" you stare back.

"???????????" phainon took the third step too literally. what is this doofus doing?

realising that his plan is falling apart, phainon panics. "c-c-c-c-can i k-kiss you?" his lips unconsciously push together, pouting, as if practicing his kissing on your ghost.

you frown. "why are you asking like it's our first time doing it?"

"oh, right..."

you playfully roll your eyes. "come here, you."

phainon skips over, brightened, lowering his head for you. you press kisses on them. then, ten more for good measure, because, well, phainon and kisses just go well together, clicking like a puzzle.

"haha, that was nice." phainon's cheeks were red as tomatoes, pressing his hands on them like a youthful maiden in love. then, he latches onto your arm, intertwining. "let's settle down soon. i'm so tired of fighting bad guys all day," he mumbles.

"settle down? like family?" you ask.

"whatever you desire: children, dogs, cats, potted plants. i'm okay with anything you want, as long as you want it," phainon beams. "i just want to start a new life with you!"

beneath all the sweet words, phainon feels that he forgot something integral... something something... become husband... well, whatever. as long as you're happy, phainon can't think of much else when you're calling out his name at night. ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ) the neighbours are tired bro...

(days later, you found the engagement ring left in his pocket before taking his clothes for laundry)

mydei's "conquer and overcome all adversities" (is he still talking about proposing?) goal!

1. propose

mydei holds out his hand. "let us form a legal, committal union under a contract."

your jaw drops. mydei had just returned home and these were his first words after being apart for so long? "s-sorry?"

mydei huffs. "you know what i mean."

"you mean a marri-"

COUGH COUGH.

...?

you scrunch your eyebrows. "you want to marr-"

COUGH COUGH.

... mydei is blushing, eyes glossy. how could one word have such an effect? scratch that, how has he made it this far into the relationship? romance was certainly not in the kremnoan dictionary.

you take a deep breath. "mydei, you can just say the word."

"the word."

you sigh. this was too slow. "fine. i agree."

"agree?" mydei looks at you expectantly.

"to establish a legal contract that binds us together."

"oh," mydei smiles. "well, let us make haste." he swings you over his shoulder easily, as if carrying feathers. now, it's going too fast - he really can't set a pace.

"hey! what the-" by the time you realised, you were already at an altar, face-to-face with your husband-to-be. never in your life have you witnessed your body being covered in so many marks the night after the wedding, and your lips were definitely bruised.

you sternly warned mydei, and what is repressed comes back stronger, as he hugged you 24/7, stealing your waist instead of lips. a kremnoan warrior always stays conquering, even when proving his eternal love for you.

a/n: i just found out there are anaxa chibis but its too late im afraid. pea head anaxa for life who's with me also here's some behind the scenes! originally i wrote this for phainon's step 3:

phainon gets on his knees and- oh, oh my god- "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

"phainon???" his name barely leaves your mouth as a breath, for you can hardly construct words, let alone a sentence.

LMAOOO it was way too much. anw ty again! i had fun writing it! sorry this was kinda short, i wrote this up as quick as i could. but if you'd like me to re-make the request bc it was too silly, lemme know xx

[aurorawritestoescape]

PERFECT || Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel comforts you and helps you to overcome your insecurities, pampering you with praise and love.

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, fluff, hurt/comfort period fic, daddy dom/little girl dynamic, soft!Joel in love, reader’s on her period, emotional trauma bc of an asshole ex, insecure reader, protective Joel, daddy kink, praise kink, pet names- little girl, baby, babygirl, sweetie, dry humping, f!masturbation, mentions of f!oral, m!oral, bulge worship, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 3,4k

A/n: I missed writing super soft daddy Joel. Also he won in my poll so I’m posting this fic first like a good girl😇 Big thank you to @twiztedlaces for the request 💞 I’m sorry that it took me so long. Hope you’ll like the story. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💋 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🌸

MASTERLIST || more daddy Joel

“Daddy, no,”

you whine, reluctantly sliding out of Joel’s embrace, inching away, putting some distance between him and you on the bed. He’s just come from work, still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened, but his hands are already all over you. It always warms your heart how he hurries to you as soon as he returns, as if he’s finally home only when you’re pressed to his chest. But today everything feels wrong. You feel wrong.

“What is it, baby?” Joel asks with a worried expression on his handsome face. The sunset makes him look ethereal, his features are almost glowing in the golden light. You’d love to kiss every inch of that face but instead you pull your knees to your chest and curl into a ball.

Joel’s honey eyes slide over your body, searching for a reason for your unusual behavior.

“Are you sick?” He sits closer and presses his lips to your forehead.

You mumble a quiet ‘no’ and squirm away, closer to the headboard, further from him. You hate how miserable he looks now, his puppy eyes sad and confused. He plants his hand on the bed and leans towards you, his gaze begging for an explanation.

“I’m sorry. I can’t today. I’m — erm…,” you stumble on words, your cheeks hot, your gaze downcast.

Joel is staring at you for a few seconds, giving you time to continue, not rushing you. He sits up slowly, trying not to spook you. You can feel his nervousness in the air, it sticks to your skin, makes your heart ache with guilt.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, babygirl. So I could help.”

“It’s —.”

Joel scooches closer to you and tentatively takes your hand in his. His big palm engulfs your little hand completely and the warmth spreads in your belly from his gentle touch. Joel starts speaking, carefully choosing his words, his voice soft,

“If it’s about our setup… I’ll understand if you want to stop or …to make any changes.”

You’ve been together not for long, been living together for a few weeks, but this time has been nothing but wonderful. Joel’s been doting on you, pampering you with love and affection. He was perfect and you hate that now he’s searching for a problem in your relationship.

“I’ve gotten my period,” you blurt out and he widens his eyes at you.

“Period,” he repeats, slowly nodding. “Oh, are you hurting?”

“Yeah, a little. But it’s not that.”

“What is it then, babygirl?”

You sigh, tracing circles on the back of his big hand with a pad of your finger.

“You don’t have to touch me right now. When I’m —like this.”

“What? Have to? No, I want to.”

His brows furrowed, Joel carefully pulls you into his arms, studying your face for any sign of discomfort. You don’t fight it and lean against his broad chest, taking a deep breath of his scent, while your anxiety is leaving your body bit by bit.

His soft husky voice asks above your head,

“Why wouldn’t I want you, little girl? Have I done anything to make you think that? I never meant to.”

You shake your head and wrap your arms tightly around his torso, your nose pressed to his neck.

“No, you’ve never done anything wrong, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I just want to understand.”

“It’s my ex — ,” you pause, hating to call that man anything but a bad word. “He never wanted to touch me when I had my special days. Wouldn’t even hug me. Said it was disgusting.”

“Motherfucker!”

“Daddy!” You gasp, gawking up at him, a little smile curving your lips.

“I’m sorry for cursing, sweetie, but what the hell is wrong with him?”

Joel takes your face in his warm hands, his eyes searching for yours.

“Listen to me. There’s nothing disgusting about you. Never! How could he—?” he pauses, gritting his teeth and glaring away in anger. A vein is bulging on his neck and his protective nature makes your pussy tingle.

As you’re staring up at him with heart eyes, Joel takes a deep breath to calm down, and looks at you again.

“You’re perfect, and I’ll always want you. I’ll be by your side any day of the month, my little girl.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper with a grateful smile, melting under his warm gaze like ice cream under the summer sun.

“Does my baby want to cuddle? I promise to behave,” he adds with a wink and you nod eagerly, butterflies dancing in your belly.

“Give me a second.”

Joel gets up and you watch him discard his office clothes and put on a tee and a pair of grey sweatpants.

When he climbs on the bed and lies down next to you, you find your place under his arm, your head on his shoulder. You breathe out a happy sigh and Joel kisses the top to your head before asking,

“Do you want anything? Food, a drink maybe?”

“No, I’m good. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

You put your bent leg over his thigh and press your whole body close to his. Joel’s chest is rising and falling slowly, his warmth gives you peace and, caged in his arms, you feel loved and wanted.

His hand heavy on your hip, his big body flush against yours, his scent enveloping you — all the sensations stir up a fire deep inside you. You tilt your hips and absentmindedly grind your clothed pussy against his thigh.

Joel hums and you hear a smile in his voice when he asks, “Sure you don’t need anything, babygirl?

Only then your mind realizes what your body has been craving since the moment Joel came home, and you hide your face in his chest, feeling shy. You can’t hide how much you crave him. Your murmur is hardly audible.

“I need you, daddy.”

Joel pinches your chin with two fingers and tilts your head up. You breathe in sharply when his dark eyes meet yours. He leans in and kisses you, his tongue breaches your lips and licks inside your whimpering mouth.

Joel pushes you gently on your back and deepens the kiss. His hand is pressed to your lower belly, sharing his warmth like the best heating pad, until it slides down, and he cups your covered pussy.

“Daddy,” you whine into his mouth and Joel echoes you with a guttural groan.

He parts from your lips, and hovers over your face, visibly trying not to lose control over his growing desire.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, sweetie?”

You feel the anxiety crawl back up your throat and start breathing fast, your eyes filing with panic again.

“I — I don’t know. I…”

“Shh, baby. It’s ok. We don’t have to do anything.”

“No, daddy, I want you,” you whine, your voice shaky, “But I don’t know how we can— if I’m— like this— oh, daddy. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey.” Joel hugs you tightly, keeping you grounded to him, containing your anxiety that threatens to swallow you whole.

After a few moments, he reaches for your face and starts leaving kisses on your nose, your lips, your cheeks, your fluttering eyes.

“Let me help you, please. What that man did to you... Fucker. I wish I could make you feel different. Can I try, babygirl?”

You think for a few seconds and then give Joel a shy nod.

“Tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, ok? " he coos, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Joel gives you a reassuring smile before his lips press to yours again. His elbow is planted on the bed next to your shoulder, his plush lips are moving against yours. He sucks on your tongue and you moan while your hands are roaming his broad back, his muscular arms. Soon you start squirming under him, the ache between your legs getting too strong to ignore.

As if sensing your impatience, Joel covers your sex with his warm hand and murmurs,

“I’m gonna take your shorts off, ok?”

Your breathey ‘yes’ gives him a green light and he pulls them down and off your legs.

Joel’s hand returns to the apex of your thighs and now only your panties and a pad stand between his hand and your pussy.

He gently massages it and you breathe heavily, relishing the light stimulation but it’s not enough.

“Baby,” Joel rubs your nose with his and whispers, “what if I take your panties off as well? Will you let me?”

“But… the blood..”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put a towel on the bed. What do you say?”

You look into his warm eyes and feel how much you trust him in your soul.

”Ok, daddy.”

Joel gets up to grab a towel and you notice a big bulge, tenting his sweats. You lick your lips, craving a taste.

When Joel returns, he sits on his knees by your side and carefully places the towel under you. Then he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and, after a nod from you, slowly slides them down your legs.

It's your first day so the flow isn't heavy, but embarrassment overtakes you again, and you cover your face with your hands, keeping your legs closed.

For a few seconds you hear nothing except for your booming heart until Joel presses a soft kiss on the back of your hand and you peek at him from between your fingers.

"Can I see your pretty face, baby?"

You lower your hands and shily look up at him. Joel gives you a reassuring smile and commands,

"Now be a good girl and show daddy your sweet pussy."

You bite your lip, a mixture of arousal and fear coursing through your body, but his kindness, the desire in his gaze give you the needed courage and you slowly part your legs.

“Here she is,” Joel coos, lovingly staring at your cunt. “As beautiful as ever. My pretty flower.”

A smile spreads across your face and you breathe out with relief.

Joel leans down and kisses you, still kneeling, as if praying, but instead of gods he praises you, his girl who needs him more than air right now. Needs his adoration, his reassurance, his love.

You’re swept away by the kiss, passion and hunger are woven into every stroke of his lips. Your body lights up when his hand finds your cunt again and his thumb tentatively rubs your swollen clit. All the fears and worries evaporate when he starts caressing your pussy, lust rules over you now, your pleasured moans and whimpers ring loudly in the darkening bedroom.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and watches your face twist in pleasure, while his fingers are twirling your sensitive bud.

“You like it, little girl—?“ he whispers against your lips, “when daddy plays with your pussy like that?”

Your soft moan is the best answer. Joel gives you an adoring smile and his lips start tracing a soft path from your lips, down to your neck, then they reach your chest and he nuzzles it, pushing your top up and out of the way.

Your breasts are freed from the confines of the clothes and Joel latches on your nipple. It pebbles in his hot mouth, under the caress of his tongue.

“Ahhh, yes, daddy,” you sing and Joel growls against your tits.

You’re on cloud nine with his fingers rubbing your wet clit, his tongue swirling around your nipple, then around the other, his facial hair deliciously tickling the delicate skin of your breasts. You run your fingers through his silky curls, his name soft on your lips, but suddenly the pleasure gets too overwhelming and you lightly pull the hair on his nape.

Joel stops his ministrations this very second, his mouth leaves your breasts, and he searches for your eyes, his own gaze concerned and worried.

“Have I hurt you, baby? What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t, daddy, it feels so good but … can I get a kiss?”

Joel beams at you, his smile warms your heart.

“Of course, sweetie.”

He kisses you and you grab onto him as if you’re going to float away. His hand is on your mound, his lips moving sensually against yours.

He parts from you to whisper,

“She’s so wet and warm. Can I kiss her too?”

You know he’s talking about your pussy, beating in his hand, but the insecurities are rooted deep inside you, so you shake your head ‘no’ with a sorry expression.

“It’s fine, babygirl,” Joel comforts you. “Next time. Today daddy’s gonna use only his fingers, yes?”

“Please.”

Joel starts again slowly. Giving you time to adjust to the pleasure, get ready to a bright release, he lightly traces your seam, his pads drawing patterns on your soft folds, and when you whine a weak ‘daddy‘ only then his fingers dive between your pussy lips and start dancing over your clit.

Joel’s face inches from yours, he drinks in every single sign of your pleasure- the way your lips part, soft gasps and moans escaping them again and again, the fluttering of your lashes before your eyes roll back and you bite on your lower lip.

”Damn, wish it was my mouth down there,” Joel gruffs, his obsidian eyes half-lidded. ”My tongue misses your sweet hole, misses you coming on it.”

“Ahhh, daddy, I’m gonna —“

“Yes, let it go. For me, baby, for your perfect pussy.”

His mouth covers your tit again and he sucks on your nipple hard. The combination of his dirty talk, his fingers massaging your clit, his lips wrapped around your bud pushes you over the precipice and you cry out as your body trembles with ecstasy, your pussy pulses against Joel’s hand and you feel wetness slide down from your fluttering hole. Is it cum or blood, you don’t care - an ocean of bliss that Joel is giving you has washed your anxiety away, only euphoria and love fill up your chest and mind.

It feels like your orgasm lasts forever with Joel prolonging it tirelessly, his mouth and fingers playing your body like the most exquisite instrument, and he stops only when you whine with overstimulation.

You’re catching your breath, limbs tingling, eyes closing by themselves, and Joel kisses your forehead and pulls you into his arms.

“Sleep, babygirl, get some rest.”

The bedroom is dark now, illuminated only by the nightstand lamp, and you’re about to drift off but then you feel Joel hard against your thigh and your eyes snap open.

“Daddy! What about you?!”

“What about me, baby?” He chuckles. “Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll be fine.”

You furrow your brows at him, eyes still droopy but your voice determined.

“No, daddy. I want to make you feel good too.”

You see him open his mouth to protest but you press your finger to his lips and beg,

“Please, daddy. I want him in my mouth.”

Joel growls and kisses your finger on his lips.

“He wants it too, sweetie.”

His words are soft but you hear desire loud in the way his chest rumbles with every word.

Joel leans against the headboard and you settle between his legs, your elbows planted on the bed, the towel under your pussy. You know that eating him will make you unbearably horny again so you bunch up the towel to make it perfect for humping.

A mischievous smile twists your lips and you moan wantonly when you notice a dark stain on his huge bulge.

”See what you’re doing to me, babygirl? How can you be anything but perfect?” Joel breathes out and bucks his hips, not shy about your effect on him. He’s about to pull the sweats down but you stop his hand and lightly shake your head. You press your face against the big lump and nuzzle it gently.

“What are you doing there, little girl?” Joel coos at you, feigning composure, but his voice is strained with need.

You give him a mischievous smile before your mouth opens up and you lick the fabric, tasting the saltiness of Joel’s precum, and then nudge his clothed hard-on with your tongue.

“I love feeling you like this, daddy,” you purr seductively and Joel moans.

“Fuckkkk, naughty girl.” He takes your head between his hands and slowly moves his hips up and down, grinding his stiff bulge against your tongue, your lips and your chin. The dark stain grows bigger now, your drooling mouth and his leaking cock soaking the sweats generously, but soon the edging makes Joel grit his teeth.

“Baby, quit it. Daddy needs his cock sucked.”

He’s been so sweet to you today, so supportive, you decide to be bratty some other day. You look up at him with your innocent doe eyes and breathe out,

“Yes, daddy.”

He impatiently tugs his pants and boxers down and his big gorgeous cock springs free, drops of precum flying everywhere. One lands on your lower lip and you lick it off with a hum before leaning down and tracing the underside of his length with the tip of your tongue. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Baby,” Joel rumbles with a warning and you apologetically bat your lashes at him and give into his desire.

You wrap your lips around his tip and suck on it gently for a few moments, gliding your tongue back and forth over the sensitive slit. Then you take him deeper into the hot cavern of your mouth, careful not to hurt him.

“Oh, baby, oh, yeah.”

Joel’s thumbs are rubbing your temples while his hands are guiding you, setting the rhythm, when you start bobbing your head up and down the stiff rod of his cock.

You love sucking Joel off, seeing him gone with pleasure, but what makes your pussy drip is the sounds he always makes. He doesn’t hide his ecstasy, and now he’s moaning, singing how well you’re blowing him, voice gruff but needy at the same time.

He hums softly when you caress his heavy balls and praises you so much, you wish you could suck his cock forever. Love for him grows in your belly and confidence blooms in your chest. You make him happy, you make this perfect man happy.

Your hips start moving by themselves and your pussy grinds against the soft towel. The fibers gently stimulate your clit while Joel is making love to your mouth and to your soul with his sweet words.

“Oh, yes, baby, yes—jus’ like that— so good to me— my little girl. This mouth is heaven. Ah, yes, right there, sweetie, suckle on it. Good girl. You’re perfect… perfect...”

Joel grunts and his bliss starts filling your mouth. Your own pleasure on hold, you focus on his release. His balls twitch in your hand and you slightly pull away to let his cock spill all the cum directly onto your tongue. You want to savor his taste, feel the weight of his load fully before you swallow it all in small gulps.

When his cock gives you everything to the last drop, Joel closes his eyes and rests his head against the headboard, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips curled into a smile.

“Wow, that was —,” he pants and then looks down at you, sitting on your heels between his legs, licking your lips like a well fed cat.

“C’mere.”

His arms open up and you tentatively climb on his lap.

“But daddy… my pussy..”

”Shush, babygirl. She’s perfect and I want you both close to me.”

He pulls you down onto his chest and you wrap your arms around his waist, snuggling up to his broadness.

“I love you, daddy,” you whisper with a happy smile, filling your lungs with his scent, your heart with his love. Joel kisses the top of your head and squeezes you lightly in his arms, emphasizing his words,

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

MASTERLIST || more daddy Joel

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

[ds-angel1]

cw: incest, being sick, kissing, tiny bit of SMUT(18+)

a/n: weekend is coming so I´ll have a bunch of time to write yayy!! also I know this is super ooc but like here me out, he just thinks she´s so cute that he has to basically ruin her and destroy her body cause of the cuteness aggression

Big brother!Rafe who takes care of you when you're sick, his usual tough exterior softening as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. "Too tired, huh?" he teases, but there's no bite to it, just quiet affection laced between the words. He carries you to your bed, settling you onto the plush sheets, tucking you in among the sea of stuffed animals that crowd your space.

Just as he turns to leave, he feels the faint tug of your fingers around his wrist. He exhales a long-suffering sigh, but it does little to hide the way his heart clenches. Instead of pulling away, he sinks onto the edge of your bed, phone in hand. He pretends to scroll, but it only lasts a few seconds before his gaze drifts back to you.

Your features, softened by exhaustion, look impossibly delicate in the dim light. And despite himself, he stays. Watches you. Feels something warm and aching unravel in his chest. A feeling he knows well, the same one he used to get when he saw kittens or puppies. Cuteness aggression. But now, it’s different. Now, it only happens when he looks at his annoying little sister.

He doesn’t know what comes over him. One moment, he’s just looking, and the next, he’s leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your warm cheek. Then the other. And before he can stop himself, his lips find your forehead, the tip of your nose, back to your cheeks, again and again, like he’s trying to press all the affection burning inside him into your skin. Such a sweet big brother…

Then he hesitates. His lips hover just above yours. His thoughts scramble his heart stutters. The sheer sweetness of you overloads his senses, and short-circuits his restraint. And before he can second-guess himself, he crashes his lips against yours, desperate, greedy, aching to take just a little more of you.

He doesn’t acknowledge that he’s probably making himself sick right now, he likes the idea of being stuck at home with you. (Not like he´s already sick for kissing his sister in the first place)

And then, your breath stutters, and your lashes flutter. You wake with a gasp against his mouth, reality slamming into you. But by the time your mind catches up, Rafe’s hand is already between your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your sleep shorts, touching, teasing, claiming.

[lilislegacy]

So here’s the thing: Percy is my guy. I’ll defend him till the day I die. I adore everything about him, and you guys know that. So this post might shock you because I’m about to call the fuck out of him.

I am so SICK of receiving ask after ask after comment after ask about Annabeth being the only goddamn issue in their relationship, meanwhile Percy gets made out to be some saint. You want to call out Percabeth? You want to be all heroic and talk about bad behavior? Allow me to join you! Let’s fucking talk about it!

The number one thing people complain about in their relationship: Annabeth making jokes about his intelligence. But let’s actually talk about this: we all know Percy is extremely intelligent, but why are we so hellbent on denying it when he DOES act like an idiot most of the time? Like, why is Percy saying things like he can’t tie his shoes or phrasing stuff to Annabeth like an 8-year-old when he’s nearly a grown adult? And now tell me this. Why is it always on ANNABETH to translate and explain everything when we know Percy can figure stuff out for himself? Why is it always on ANNABETH to make the plan? Why is it always on ANNABETH to figure out how to fix things that Percy and Grover usually messed up? 

After Wrath of the Triple Goddess, I spent so much time being angry at how Rick wrote Annabeth bossing Percy around. But then I took a step back and realized: it’s because he also writes Percy as always being so heavily reliant on Annabeth when she’s there. Instead of asking, “Why is Annabeth acting like his mom?” why isn’t anyone ever fucking asking, “Why does Annabeth feel like she HAS to act like his mom?” Because she doesn’t act that way with people like Thalia, Jason, or Reyna. So why is her boyfriend putting her in a position where she feels like she has to explain everything to him and tell him what to do?

Oh right, I forgot: because we must always blame the woman for “nagging” and “being controlling.” Silly me for forgetting.

You know, in The Demigod Diaries, Annabeth says she’s always known Percy isn’t dumb and that he’s actually very intelligent—but that he just ACTS super dumb. Then she says she thinks Percy does it just to annoy her. Annabeth has called Percy smart on several occasions—including one of my favorite moments in MoA where she calls him brilliant and kisses him—and yet she still makes those comments about his intelligence. So considering all that, let's think about it. Have you ever met someone who’s super smart but acts so dumb that they actually convince themselves they’re dumb? It’s infuriating. So imagine how that must feel to a daughter of Athena. And don’t you dare go, “Well, it’s because of Percy’s childhood and his abuse…” because Annabeth is ALSO fucked up from her childhood and suffered from abuse, but that doesn’t ever excuse HER, I guess. So why does Percy get a pass? 

It’s ALWAYS “God Annabeth is so controlling all the time” and NEVER “how come Percy puts Annabeth in a position where she always HAS to take charge and keep things under control?” How come he low-key DOES act dumb and useless (and then complains about it) when they both know damn well he can be smart and resourceful when he wants to? Let me guess. “He’s insecure 😔😔.” YEAH, NO SHIT, SHERLOCK. So being insecure makes it all okay? Because Annabeth NEVER gets that benefit of the doubt. Or let me guess, “It’s Rick’s fault for writing him that way” okay cool, well then it’s ALSO Rick’s fault for writing Annabeth the way she is. You don’t get to pick and choose.

(Quick pause—does anyone else feel like Rick finally started writing Percy as a confident, secure, and assertive person in Heroes of Olympus—and found it so refreshing—only for Percy to regress back into his self-hating, insecure 12-year-old self again in the new books? Because it’s infuriating to me that he lost that character development. Anyway… resuming discussion.)

People are always so worried about Percy feeling inferior in their relationship, but never about Annabeth feeling frustrated when Percy doesn't act like the equally contributing partner that she knows he can be (and that he is a lot of the time). I mean, we know from her POV in MoA that Annabeth tends to feel like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and has to figure things out for everyone else. And that she feels useless sometimes because everyone else, especially Percy, has all these amazing powers, and all Annabeth has to contribute is her knowledge. And yet, when she "shows off" with her intelligence, it's a "superiority complex?"

And another hot topic: Anti-Percabethers are always talking about Annabeth “bullying” and “physically abusing” Percy. (Despite him never feeling pain, flinching, or even expressing an ounce of discontent—in fact after she judo-flipped him, he laughed and smiled). And yet they never seem to want to talk about the fact that Percy has made Annabeth cry and been extremely insensitive to her on several occasions. And you wanna talk about physical violence? Let’s talk about how Sally, Paul, and Annabeth were all extremely nervous and tense when telling Percy that Sally was pregnant. You know why? It’s explained that they’re scared because his temper is brutal and they never know how he’s going to react—because he previously blew out the pipes of the entire apartment building when he got upset about something. How come everybody is SO worried about Annabeth playfully smacking his shoulder and him not caring, but NOBODY wants to talk about the fact that Annabeth is scared of making Percy mad because he can’t fucking control his temper or keep the world around him from blowing up? This is the guy who’s been kicked out of military schools for fighting. This is the guy who’s thrown his skateboard into a wall out of rage. This is the guy who got so mad at a goddess that he got pleasure out of torturing her. I’m not saying he’s wrong for any of that, but I am saying that Annabeth has never once done something like that.

Let’s talk about Piper’s perspective of him. I used to hate Piper because she was critical of Percy, but then I grew up. She is one of the few people who actually gives us an unbiased view of him, and you know what she says? She says she doesn’t know how Annabeth deals with Percy because Annabeth is constantly having to keep him under control. Annabeth keeps him from attacking/yelling at Leo after the canon incident. She has to diffuse his stupid, pointless “who’s is bigger” competition with Jason. She’s not there to keep him from pissing off Bacchus, and Percy rapidly escalates the situation and nearly screws them all over. I mean, in Wrath of the Triple Goddess, she had to tactfully handle him after Grover drank the strawberry potion because Percy was so angry that he was literally shaking (and btw Annabeth had to figure out the plan to fix everything that time, too). When she’s not there, Percy talks back to gods and superiors and gets everyone around him into bad situations with his temper and disobedience. Annabeth CONSTANTLY has to calm him down and keep him from losing his shit. Do you know how exhausting that must be??

So tell me—why is the blame ALWAYS on the woman here? Why is Percy made out to be some poor, abused wittle baby being picked on by big bad Annabeth? He’s a big boy. A grown man now, even. He is the most powerful demigod alive. He can fucking take care of himself, and so can Annabeth.

If you don’t want to like Percabeth? That’s fine. If you don’t want to like Annabeth? That’s fine. But STOP making it out as if Annabeth is the only one who causes problems in their relationship and Percy is completely innocent. Percy is just as bad—arguably worse, actually. Because despite everyone saying how bad Annabeth is to Percy, he never actually gets hurt, scared, or offended by her. Meanwhile, Annabeth HAS cried because of Percy’s words AND has been scared of him and his temper. So… what the FUCK?? How is Annabeth the one being villainized here??

Now, I can actively defend every single thing Percy has done. I love him for his flaws and they make him such a complex character. And I can do and say the same thing about Annabeth, but for some reason that’s “excusing bad behavior.” I love them both and think they are extraordinary people who’ve been dealt really crappy hands. They deal with things the best way that they can in the moment. But they BOTH mess up and hurt each other, and they BOTH have things to work on. They are very flawed characters, and we can point out and discuss those flaws while also being fond of those flaws because it makes them more realistic. 

Now, some of you might be thinking, “Lili, I thought you loved Percy and Percabeth.” I do. I love them so much that I pretty much have a whole blog dedicated to them. But I don’t love them because I think they’re perfect. I love them because, despite being extremely flawed, they make each other better. They love each other unconditionally. They build each other up and protect each other in the darkest of times.

They are best friends. They are battle partners. They are lovers. They are warriors. They are heroes. They are EQUALS. But they are NOT perfect. Not even a little. And their ability to overcome and work through those imperfections together is what makes them so extraordinary.

And yet, when Percy plays dumb, it’s blamed on Rick’s bad writing and excused as him being insecure because of his abuse. When Annabeth calls him out for it and jokes about it, she gets called an awful person who doesn’t value him. And when Percy loses his temper and acts out and gets everyone into bad situations, he’s excused because he inherited Poseidon’s temper and he can’t help it. But when Annabeth is extremely prideful and acts like she’s smarter than other people (which she inherited from Athena) she’s a selfish bitch who thinks she’s better than anyone else? 

How does that make any fucking sense? 

If you want to criticize Percabeth, criticize both of them. But don’t keep doing this “selective reading” bullshit so you can see Annabeth as the villain when she spends half her life cleaning up Percy’s messes and taking care of him. Percy is extraordinary and I adore him, but he is not a “saint” for “dealing with Annabeth.” He is damn lucky to have her, just like she's damn lucky to have him. 

Either be honest about both their flaws and cut it out with the double standards, or don’t bother pretending you care about the truth at all.

[hyde-the-toad-bard]

Man I'm a writing mood today:

Skyrim was a game I played so much on the Ps3 it broke because of the memory limit. To this day Skyrim has an unmatched level of sheer atmosphere. It's one of those games that invites you in and never tells you how long you stayed. You never ask. You've already eaten the lotus flower. You've done nothing of substance. You probably aren't even having any fun, but you're in Skyrim. You're just... taking it in.

Monster Hunter 3 Ultimate was my introduction to the monster hunter series, and while 4u consumed much more of my formative years, 3u was the hook that really introduced me to games where the challenge and mechanics were the point. Sure I played lots of platformers even back then, but Mario never encouraged me to push myself, to plan ahead, and to prepare for its difficulty. One could argue that it was Monster Hunter that prepared me for the life changing event for me that was-

Dark Souls is in my late teen years, so it's at the edge of these formative years, but from the time I first rolled credits, I have never been the same. This game shaped the way I look at and talk about games today. It shaped the kind of games I seek out. It shaped how I see myself, and planted the seed to my views on self improvement and change.

Sly Cooper was one of my earliest experiences, and probably is responsible for any furry proclivities I have, and Sly 2: Band of Thieves is the best of the series. I would play for hours even after there were no more missions to do because the hubs were not only fun to explore, but to navigate. The art style made the environments captivating to look at, and what makes a good sly game to me is how well I can picture how it's hub worlds looks. Sly 2 is also back from a time when games would always throw some complete curve balls in their mission design. Oops, you're playing asteroid now. Oops, you're playing tower defense for this mission and only this mission. Oops, you misunderstood what "Lead Rajan" means because you were 7 years old and jumped right in front of him 4 times, wondering why you failed the mission.

Super Smash Bros is a party game. Alright now that I've riled everyone up I'd like to explain why I only played 1v1 no items for over 3000 hours on ultimate. The game absolutely had depth, but I didn't know about that for a long time. Super Smash Bros Brawl was the least viable competitively, but none of the other games in the series come close to its presentation. It's music goes harder than my nipples in Chicago, and it's story is oodles of fun to go through, especially with the project m mod installed. In fact, playing through its story was the first time I went over 24 hours without sleep. Worth it but not a great idea. More than any of that though was how child me engaged in the paratext of the game. I fondly remember someone lazily clipping the game together over the audio of Yugi and Kaiba's first duel. I remember building levels to build a story. I remember building levels to make a miniature mission system. I remember building levels inspired by songs I liked. I engaged with this game in the most unintended manner possible, and I sometimes wish I still had that unbridled capacity to not give a shit about what the game is and make it what I want it to be.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Imagine spider reader taking a more punk appearance to one, look like hobie and two, piss off the batfam >:3

Them thinking it would do more damage than they thought bc they thought the reason they disliked hobie was bc of his punk appearance and when they finally do the new look the batfam is just “ohhh new look? Looks cool! :3”.

Spider reader just tweaking out bc of it bc how dare you like my attempt to stick it up to the man (you)

Love da writing, joe L mama 👺

i feel like spider!reader has peircings based on hobie and gwen + her clothing and everything is based on them too!!

plus dyed hair cause of gwen

i feel like honestly the only judgemental one is damian

but lemme write this this is so silly

Spider!reader: *its 4 am and you've been in your room all night dying your hair* haha this will finally piss them off they need to leave me ALONE

*walks to the kitchen to get water not realizing jason just snuck in to get a snack*

Jason: woah did you do something new to your hair? it looks nice

Spider!reader: FUCK *storms off to room, still waterless*

Spider!reader: i just gave myself a bunch of peircings with a rusty sewing needle and glitter glue hopefully damians victorian child ass fuckinf DIES

damian: *now barging into her room holding a bunch of painting supplies* i require your assistance- what did you do??

spider!reader: i did em myself, dont they look nice?

damian, who knows better than to argue with you (he'll never win): they look fine, i guess. anyway-

spider!reader: okay fine whatever fuck you too

damian: ???

spider!reader, just got off call with spider-kids and now has a new haircut: okay so theyre SURELY gonna leave me alone now, right??

dick: i like the new haircut, its so adorable! *squishes your cheeks*

spider!reader: im gonna kill you. LEAVE ME ALONE

dick: 😄

spider!reader walking around the manor in some of hobie/gwens clothing: these are suprisingly comfy

tim: i fw the fit

spider!reader: LEAVE ME ALONE HO

alfred:

spider!reader: i hate you

can u guys tell when this got lazier and lazier lmfaooo

this is so ass but i hope u guys get the point🙏

also please lmk if i got anything punk wrong i know next to nothing abt punk culture im sorry 😓

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Hold Me Closer

summary: you give joaquin exactly what he needs after a rough mission.

pairing: subby!joaquin torres x f!reader

contents: 18+/MINORS DNI/SMUT, internal angst, food mention, dom/sub undertones, kissing, teasing, cockwarming, unprotected p in v

wc: 1,845

an: finallyyyyyy got to writing this subby!joaquin goodness, hope yall enjoy while i finish past 5 of vuelve!

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Joaquin usually texted or called you when he was almost home, even though he’d set up notifications to let you know when he and Sam made it back to the armory.

But today, there was nothing—just the notification—no call, no message.

Several minutes passed in silence before you caved and checked his location, confirming he was on his way.

That’s how you know it’s bad before he even opens the door. And the confirmation is all over his face the moment he steps inside, setting his bags down with a weighty exhale. He’s not his usual cheery self, even as his gaze catches yours and he forces a smile.

“Rough one, huh?” you ask gently.

He sighs. “Yeah. Just—really shitty.”

You rise from the couch and make your way to him, cupping his face in your hands. “Then let’s have a not-so-shitty night, okay?”

“Seguro, mi amor,” he agrees, though his shoulders still slouch.

You turn his head this way and that, examining him. ��Mmm. ¿Tienes hambre?”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Not really.”

You raise a brow. “But did you eat?”

A pause. “Not really,” he repeats. “Don’t light a fire under my ass, querida, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the sweetest girl you know.”

“That’s true, but you’re also the most stubborn. Which is why I know you’re about to make suggestions on what we should eat.”

“We could get Happy Camper—I’ve never seen you deny pizza.”

His hands find their place on your waist, squeezing gently as he mulls it over. “I could eat some pizza,” he murmurs, a smile pulling at his lips.

At the sight of that familiar light in his eyes, you can’t help but smile too. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his in an adoring kiss. With each word, your mouths brush, “I’ll order the pizza and you shower?”

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you closer, kissing you more deeply than before. He’s a little breathless, warmth creeping into his cheeks when he breaks away. “Sí, patrona.”

—

When Joaquin returns, you’re on the couch again with your book. You look up at him with a warm smile, but there’s something in your eyes that has him in a near shiver. Something hungry. Possessive.

“C’mere,” you murmur, patting the space next to you. He obliges, sitting beside you so your shoulders brush. Setting your book down, you rise onto your knees to straddle him.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully, though his hands slide up your thighs, kneading at the soft flesh. “What’re you up to?”

You ignore his line of questioning, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Your hair’s longer than usual. Gonna cut it?”

“Maybe,” he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut when you start using the pads of your fingers to scratch at his scalp.

His breath deepens, his body slackening beneath your touch. Your gaze traces every detail of him—the sharp curve of his jaw, plush lips, delicate lashes. He’s stunning like this, and the quiet reverence between you feeds your growing hunger.

“I’m gonna touch you now, ok, cariño?” you ask softly, your fingers working against his scalp in slow, methodical circles.

“Mhmm,” he hums, sounding a little desperate. His body shifts, pressing more firmly into the couch, exposing the line of his throat to you.

The sight of him, open and willing, ignites something in you. You lean in, pressing your lips to the warm skin of his neck, trailing soft kisses downward. Your hands fall to his sweats, one rubbing against his hardening cock before slipping inside.

You’re met with nothing but solid warmth.

“You went commando on me, Torres?” you tease, your grip on him just as playful, fingers curling only slightly to emphasize your point. “That’s something a slut would do.”

“Oh fuck, baby,” he breathes, his eyes squeezing shut. His fingers twitch against your thighs, his muscles flexing as he fights the urge to thrust into your hand. His restraint is cracking, barely holding together, but he’s determined to be good for you.

“Are you a slut, Joaquin?”

“For you—por ti, cualquier día,” he mumbles eagerly, hoping that his willingness will bring him a reward.

His answer should bring nothing but arousal, but you feel yourself softening. How sweet it is that the man in a suit, the superhero, goes tender for you. You rest the bridge of your nose against his, asking him softly to look at you.

When he does, his brown eyes meet yours with a soft haziness, something vulnerable beneath the hunger.

“Te amo, mi amor. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?”

“Always.”

You lean in, taking control, your lips finding his with slow, deliberate pressure. His breath hitches, body tensing as you deepen the kiss, feeling his need swell against you. His hands tighten on your hips, a silent plea.

“Can I be close to you?”

You know what he means as soon as he asks. It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Joaquin has this thing where he wants to crawl inside your skin and be there forever. Sometimes he’ll smoosh his cheek against yours and hope that somehow you’ll start to meld together. But when he’s asking like this, he wants to be inside you. Simply inside you, and nothing else.

“I don’t know if you asked correctly,” you murmur, your lips brushing his.

Joaquin’s known for his honesty, his playfulness, his confidence. But when you take control like this, you can draw out the part of him that’s shy. This is one of those times.

There’s a faint flush in his cheeks as he says, “Can I be inside you…please?”

“Since you asked so perfectly, amorcito. Hips up,” you command softly, and he moves in nanoseconds, allowing you to slide his sweats down to his knees.

Joaquin’s chest is heaving, his breaths rushed in anticipation. You don’t break eye contact as you pull your panties to the side, line him up with your entrance, and sink down onto him.

He gasps sharply, his fingers twitching against your skin.

“Perfect fit, hmm? Or should I try again?” you wonder playfully out loud.

“No—baby—I—” he sputters, but both of you know you weren’t truly asking.

You lift your hips until just the tip of him is inside you before lowering yourself again—slower this time. Neither of you can help it, moans mingling as your heads fall back in pleasure.

“Much better,” you murmur through a hitched breath, burying your face in his neck.

“M-much better,” he grits out, nuzzling into your temple. His hands rest at your hips, holding you, not guiding. He’s letting you take from him whatever you want.

And you do.

There’s a desire to tease him more, but you know what he needs from you. He wants you to pry control and decision-making from his hands and make him feel safe. He wants to be nearly brain-dead with just the thought, the smell, the feel of you. So you hold him close as minutes stretch on, whispering soft praises here and there, dusting any skin you can reach with kisses.

Eventually, your patience wears thin— he feels too good inside you, but it’s not enough. It’s like scratching an itch with dull nails, like soothing an ache that can’t be satisfied.

You start a lazy but steady rock against him, pressing the tip of him firmly against the most sensitive spot inside you. Joaquin’s breath quickens but he stays quiet and still, letting you take what you want from him. Just a few minutes of this— you fucking him like this— and you’ll fall over the edge, but this isn’t just about you.

“Think you can cum like this for me? Or does baby boy need some help?”

“Can I touch you, hermosa? It’ll help,” he asks, guiding your head an inch so that his gaze can meet yours. He’s completely under your spell, his eyes glazed over with restlessness. With need.

You break for him, ready to let him have whatever he needs.

“Sure, baby, touch me,” you agree easily, sitting back more firmly on your heels so that you have a better position to rock against him.

One of his hands finds the hem of your shirt, eagerly skimming up your skin to knead and caress your breast. The other takes an opposite path, forgoing the waistband of your panties to play with your clit.

Now your breath goes shallow, your hips bucking more quickly as his hands and cock serve you just the way you want them to. The sight of you alone— lips parted, half-naked, consuming him has him nearing his orgasm.

“Kiss me, mi vida. Please,” he begs, and you feel the way he tightens his muscles further beneath you, trying to resist the urge to fuck you back.

You close the gap between you, taking his lip between your teeth. “¿Ya no puedes más, cariño?”

“No,” he nearly whimpers, trying to pry his lip from your grip so that he can kiss you.

“Patience, I’ll kiss you, but when I’m close. Understand?”

Joaquin is tortured, you can see the resolve he’s been holding onto fading in his eyes but he nods, all of him growing still but his working hands.

He doesn’t know it, but you’re close too, barely holding on. You have less than a minute, you can feel it in the way you start to clench around his cock. You know that Joaquin can feel it too, but he continues to be a good boy for you, plucking at your nipples and clit.

You don’t give him a warning when your high washes over him, you just crush your mouth to his, groaning into the wetness as wave after wave of ecstasy floods your system.

It’s his undoing and he mirrors you, whimpering against your tongue as he fills you to the brim. It’s warm, comforting, and exactly what you both needed.

When you pull away, Joaquin is as out of it as ever, his head falling back against the cushions once more. You run your hands up and down his bare chest, planting soft, alternating kisses on his cheeks.

“¿Estás bien, amorcito?” you ask him gently, snuggling into his arms.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs dreamily, his fingers grazing over your skin absentmindedly as he starts to drift.

You smile softly at his words, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. But then—your thoughts go back to the pizza.

“Hey,” you murmur, shifting so you’re looking down at him. “Don’t forget about the pizza, cariño.”

His eyes flutter open, still hazy from the pleasure, but there’s a playful glint in his gaze. “How could I?” he whispers, pulling you closer into his arms. “But I’m good here…we can always eat later.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No way. We’ve got pizza, and I’m not letting you fall asleep on me just yet.”

Joaquin groans but grins up at you. “Alright, alright. You win, mi amor.”

“Damn right I do,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

nsfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun

[gaypesticide]

reminds me of this whopper

"Hey dude. Letting you know someone in the queer platonic group chat (the one you left after Kai's alter made some acephobic comments, which he apologized for later btw :/) said they found receipts on your twitter of you liking a James Charles tweet which is really... yikes.

Also Rainbow said you were tweeting on ur Steven universe roleplay account that were gonna rewatch atla which is like a really transphobic and racist and sexist show and you know how Ash feels about even if they won't say anything about it bc of their anxiety m idk dude I just wanted to let you know. I know Ash can be biphobic sometimes but they also live in an apartment and their parents are divorced so they have ptsd from it :/|// I think Ash might write a callout but me and Rainbow are trying to calm them down just be aware and maybe stop being toxic"

uh hey that person you just reblogged from used to be in our discord server but we had to kick them out because they admitted to watching t*m and j*rry... that show features violence and as such glorifies it.... when we confronted them all they said was "wtf its a show about a cat and a mouse"... if you dont believe me theres a whole callout post that features their name age and street address so you can go to their house and check... anyways you should unfollow them before people start thinking you like problematic media too :/ just trying to help

[multicohn]

summary: the rookies notice that their partner is missing from an important race and immediately thinks the worst

warnings: this took me DAYS to do 💀 some might be longer than others but keep in mind that i do like all the rookies and some were just easier to write for — ooc? since i don't know them that well, some might have similar situations but i tried to not have them as the same scenario — missing or misspelled words maybe? i might have missed it cause this is quite long — drivers wanting to die / thinking their s/o died ( jokingly ) — death jokes in general — just the rookies being dramatic and thinking the worse

pairing(s): gn! reader x jack doohan, gn! reader x isack hadjar, gn! reader x ollie bearman, gn! reader x kimi antonelli, gn! reader x gabriel bortoleto ( all written separately )

genre: fluff, dramtic drivers, established relationships

author note: lawson and alonso are not included

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

jack doohan - australian grand prix

the first race of the season would be in jack’s home country. he felt excited, but also very nervous. jack wanted to prove that he deserves to be a main driver and that he can pull in results. sure, it’s only the first race, but if he doesn’t prove that he deserved that seat, he’ll be dropped quick.

jack bit his nails as he stood in the garage. he made it into the second round of qualifying, but was easily knocked down the longer it went.

was he upset? yes, but y/n made him see that it wasn't his fault.

now, however, jack hasn't seen y/n since that morning.

he's aware that they're most likely with pierre's girlfriend, kika, but they haven't answered any of his texts either. pierre wasn't worried, use to kika not coming until a few minutes before he had get in the car or she just came and go.

jack wasn't use to it though. y/n normally popped in to see him or at least texted him back.

did their phone die? break? is franco trying to steal them before stealing his seat? ARE THEY BEING THREATENED BY ESHAY'S?

"jack"

nevermind.

“y/n!” jack shouted in relief as they walked towards him

“sorry” they quickly kissed his cheek as kika walked away to do the same with pierre

“kika’s heel broke so we had to go get her a new pair of shoes and my phone went flat”

jack breathed out a sigh of relief before engulfing their partner in a hug.

"i thought i was going to die" y/n rolled their eyes

"i've always made it on time”

“yeah, well, i thought franco was trying something or that you were being threatened by an eshay” y/n nodded while trying not to laugh at the thought of jack thinking an eshay was trying to have a go at them

“i’ll make sure to remember to bring my portable” jack pouted at their words

“no. you’re not allowed to leave me at all on race days”

“what if i need to go toilet?"

"i'll stand outside"

"you can not be serious..."

jack placed his hands on their shoulders and stared right into their eyes.

"dead serious" y/n scoffed and started swatting him away.

"get in the car!"

"you haven't given me a good luck kiss yet!"

"you aren't getting one!"

"oh so you want me to crash?"

"jack!"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

isack hadjar - japanese grand prix

the sound of someone texting him made isack momentarily snap out of his trance and look down. a smile creeped onto his face as the familiar contact name of his partner sat at the top, but it slowly washed off his face as he read through their messages.

loml <3: baby im here!

loml <3: there’s lots of people

loml <3: they have ( favourite food )!

loml <3: hey so…

loml <3: i think im lost.

they hadn't been at the previous races due to conflicts with their own personal schedule, but had reassured him that they would be able to make it for this race and would be by his side for bahrain as well. isack had cheered when they revealed the news after friday's practice sessions ended.

y/n had landed a few hours ago, but isack was already making his way to the track when they did ( he had been dragged and strapped into the car by his manager because isack tried to run off to the airport ).

“isack?” his trainer knocked on the door and called out to him before opening it

“you good, mate?” isack only stared at his phone, his race suit still hanging around his waist

isack took a deep breath in and spun around.

his trainer blinked as he brushed past him, determination obvious. however, isack was walking away from the garage.

"wha — isack?! that's the wrong way!"

"no it isn't!"

the trainer quickly caught up to him and grabbed hold of isack's shoulder. the driver turned around, his determination had slipped and fear seemed to have consumed isack.

“what’s wrong?”

“my partner got lost"

"oh, well..." his trainer had no clue on how to comfort the driver who was trying to pull himself away

"at least they're here?" isack whipped around so fast that it startled his trainer

"that doesn't matter! they aren't with me! i can't race knowing they're not here waiting for me! what if they fell into a ditch and died or something!?"

he watched as his trainer opened his mouth to reply, but it fell on deaf ears as isack caught sight of y/n. he sprinted towards the garage, leaving his baffled trainer.

"y/n!" they didn't even have a chance to turn around before they felt isack crashing into their back, his arms tightly secured around them.

"i thought you fell into a ditch and died or something" y/n turned their head to stare at isack with an offended expression

"why was that your first thought?" isack didn't answer and continued to squeeze them tightly

( his trainer literally had to pull and carry him away from y/n so that he would get in the car )

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ollie bearman - british grand prix

despite their relationship still being relatively new, ollie found himself having "withdrawals" as kimi called it. he felt weird and itchy when y/n wasn’t by his side, but when they were ollie would just aimlessly follow them around. fans thought it was cute and started comparing him to a dog more than a bear.

however, ollie received devasting news on the day of the british grand prix.

they would be late.

ollie thought then and there that he should just die.

the young driver arrived at the paddock with sadness beneath his fake smile. he raced towards the garage, only gave short answers to those who questioned him about something or rushing through with signing something, barely having time for pictures. ollie didn't meant to come off as rude, but he really just wanted to curl up in his drivers room and wait for them, but he couldn't.

esteban who was hit with a sense of boredom wondered why he couldn't hear his teammate's usual chatter and when he peeked around the corner, all he saw is a pouting ollie.

"ollie? what's wrong?"

he mumbled an answer, but due to all the noise, esteban didn't hear a thing.

"what?" ollie huffed as he leaned closer to hear

"my partner isn't here"

he crossed his arms with an irritated expression while esteban glanced over at ollie's team who were all collectively ignoring the upset driver.

"they told me they were going to be late, but i didn't think it would be this late! what if they got into a car accident?!" he only had a few more minutes to spare before they would start forcing him into the car

esteban only nodded along as ollie continued to think the worse — he's certain he heard something about an alien abduction. the younger driver didn't even notice that his teammate had left halfway through until he spun around to see a tired looking y/n just walking in.

if ollie was a dog, his ears would’ve perked up and tail would be wagging.

“y/n!” he cheered before jumping them

thankfully, ollie had enough strength as to not let them fall over.

“ollie, you’re heavy, i can't breathe”

"you wouldn't be talking if you couldn't breathe" they groaned lightly as he pressed their bodies together

“why are you so late?”

“traffic”

“you should’ve ran” y/n scoffed

“yeah, don’t think so” ollie lifted his head from their ( neck / shoulder / chest — depends on height )

“do you… not love me enough?” his eyes widened at the thought while y/n stared silently at him, but that just made ollie grow even more nervous

“why aren’t you saying anything? do not love me anymore?!”

“ollie. get in the damn car”

“and now you’re trying to get rid of me?! y/n, i will cry”

“i don’t think your team will let me near you if you do”

“i’ll kill myself”

“ollie!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

kimi antonelli - italian grand prix

kimi dislikes the word “possessive”. he isn’t possessive, he just doesn’t trust anyone around partner so they should stay by his side until he’s in the car and then stay beside someone he trusts while he races. that person was george’s girlfriend — carmen, but kimi’s hasn’t been liking her recently since she always stole them away.

y/n is HIS partner. how dare she keep them away from him.

carmen would pop up out of nowhere and take y/n away while george held him back from chasing them down. his partner would be returned before he had to get in the car, but that didn't matter to kimi, y/n should be with him the entire time unless they aren't allowed ( like meetings, but he was able to convince toto to let them in ).

kimi impatiently tapped his foot while george hummed to himself. he didn't speak, but kimi knew the older man was amused by the situation. would it be bad if he took george out right now? toto does favour him and valtteri is here, so it should be fine, right?

an evil glint sparkled in kimi's eyes that george was unaware of since his back was now turned.

"it's his fault for letting his girlfriend take away my partner" kimi nodded to himself as he glared at the taller man

however, he never got to initiate his plan.

"kimi"

"my purpose in life has been restored"

he sprinted towards his partner and snatched them away from carmen ( yes, kimi did glare at her, but she only laughed before going to george ).

“i hate when she does that” he scoffed before wrapping them in a tight squeeze

y/n wondered if their boyfriend was a snake in his past life by the way he hugged them.

“we just lost track of time” they managed to say, but kimi wasn’t having any of it

“you were almost late. i’m going to tie us together whenever she comes”

“you still have ten minutes”

“it would’ve been a hour, but noooo” y/n laughed and kimi finally loosened his hold on them

“sorry, sorry, i know important this race is to you” they threaded their fingers through his hair before pressing a quick kiss to kimi’s cheek

“is that all?”

“you got to put the rest of your stuff on”

“i’ll put it on when you kiss me properly”

“everyone’s looking…”

“y/n. i will not get into that car unless you kiss me”

they felt toto turn towards them and they cursed kimi quietly before pressing their lips to his.

kimi smiled happily and skipped off to put on the rest of his race gear.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

gabriel bortoleto - brazilian grand prix

this particular race weekend had been a huge deal for gabi and y/n is well aware of it. the driver felt bad about not being able to spend much time with their partner, but y/n understood and was able to keep themselves entertained without gabi.

“where are they?” he tapped his foot impatiently while staring at the empty hallway

practice and qualifying has gone well, the crowd went absolutely wild when he managed to push the car to p6, but then a few other drivers managed to get better times and that knocked him down to p10. gabi wasn’t upset about that though, what he is upset about is how his partner has seemingly disappeared the moment they arrived at the track.

sure, gabi does blame himself since he was instantly swept up with journalists and fans that seemed to increase every time someone left. y/n had given him a quick kiss before making their way to the sauber hospitality. gabi didn’t get to check in on them, at least physically, since he had a meeting and other duties to attend to before changing into his race suit. gabi didn’t think anything of it; they might have gone to get food or needed the bathroom.

but, this long? something must have happened.

he didn’t want to think the worst, but he couldn’t help it.

“how likely do you think someone here would be a kidnapper?” nico slowly turned towards gabi who stared at the wall, no thoughts seemingly behind the younger driver’s eyes

“what?” gabi blinked

“nothing” he tried to brush it off, but nico wasn’t having it

gabi sighed and started explain.

“maybe they ate something bad? or lost track of time?”

yeah, that seemed more reasonable than them being lured away and stuffed into a random van.

gabi thanked nico before wondering off back to his side of the garage.

"it's fine. maybe they did eat something bad or didn't realise how close the start time is — it's happened before..." he sighed and crossed his arms before closing his eyes

gabi drowned out the noise and envisioned himself on the track. it calmed his mind, but only slightly.

he didn't know much time had passed since he entered his own head, but gabi instantly recongised y/n the moment they were close enough. they always wear a certain ( perfume / cologne / spray, etc ) that gabi is all too familiar with, it helped that y/n is the only person he knows to wear it.

their arms wrapped around his ( waist / mid-section / shoulders ) and gabi opened his eyes and turned around.

"where were you?"

"i think i ate something weird"

a sigh slipped past his lips while his shoulders sunk in relief.

"at least weren't lured to a van and almost kidnapped"

"what?" gabi shook his head

"don't worry about it"

he pressed a soft kiss to their ( neck / cheek / forehead ) before walking away to grab his helmet. y/n stared at their boyfriend's back, confusion washing over them as they replied his words in their head.

"by the way..." with his helmet now in his hands, gabi walked back over to stand in front of them

"i'm going to handcuff us together if you leave like that again"

"gabi —" he cut them off with a kiss on the lips before quickly making his way to his car while putting on his helmet

y/n only sighed and rubbed their forehead.

[dailymothanon]

My TFP Soundwave ramblings (be warned cuz there are many words)

I was gonna draw today but the prospect of it felt overwhelming for some reason so instead I’m just gonna talk about TFP Soundwave’s alt mode (a UAV/ reaper drone) just cuz I was reading about it and I like how I could link stuff between how he is and how reaper drones are.

So basically, one of the first things I wanna mention is that reaper drones/UAVs are unmanned aerial vehicles (given the whole “drone” thing and what UAV even means) but to me that just sorta makes sense for Soundwave in regard to his more.. Unsettling, robotic/alien-like behavior and movements? As well as his silence and usual distance from the front lines and his lack of showing face/(social?) detachment from like everyone else other than Laserbeak (don’t ask, it just makes sense to me). Reaper drones were also made to work at first only in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance roles; but eventually additionally a hunter-killer role which you can kinda see in Soundwave’s character in the show (my best example is the scene where he retrieves Laserbeak from Ratchet, super cool creepy behavior from him, just waiting for something or someone to make any noise or any movement). When he has a mission, he’s most definitely getting it done, he stalks and lurks and takes action when the time is just Right; he’s very pinpoint accurate in Prime. 

Reaper drones were also made to provide “deadly persistence” capability, being able to fly over areas night and day waiting for a target to present itself, or to survey for LONG long amounts of time. Which to me correlates to how he’s able to stand still and do work and wait and listen and watch and do everything for So Long as he does in the show (and tolerate Starscream— or like everyone actually for so long 🙄). 

Reapers also utilize satellite communications for command and control (as in, they kinda literally have satellite dishes in them I think that’s what that is?), so that to me also easily parallels Soundwave's abilities with the space bridges and kind of his visor being computer-like as well (and that time he used an. Antenna satellite thing? To look for signals or whatever). They also use other multiple sensors to target and observe, which include optical (high resolution imagery for identification and target acquisition), infrared, and radar systems (enables the drone to locate and track targets regardless of weather conditions or visibility). Which imo links to how Soundwave is described as the “eyes and ears of the decepticons”.

They carry many weapons but I’m not really gonna get into that tbh cuz. Idk. Don’t wanna. Also TFP Soundwave doesn’t fight often anyways and when he does it’s mostly just straight hands (and data cables). And this is as far as my not the most accurate of ramblings most likely but just one I wanted to make because there’s just a Lot from so Little of TFP Soundwave I just love to think about it. Was I geeked out writing this? Maybe, so what 😒

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Someone told me they weren't a fan of Silver because he's written too heroically good without any flaws. To be fair, you don't have to like Silver at all; to each their own, but I don't understand how someone can go through Book 7 and not see the blatant flaws the writers gave him.

If I had to pinpoint why his flaws aren't as well seen, it is likely because he's not intentional about any harm he causes at all. It's not as shown in Book 7, but he's like Kalim where he is known to be naive, oblivious, and blunt to an almost painful degree, lacking total social awareness in most situations. In Book 7, specifically, we see that he has total self-worth issues, where he feels like he needs to repay Lilia for raising him (he doesn't) and constantly apologizes for things outside of his control (like Malleus's overblot). Poor self-worth is still a character flaw, even if it doesn't necessarily have a negative effect on other characters, and it manifests itself in Silver in a different way than how Sebek's issues with his self-worth are shown. I know that they aren't the most obvious character flaws, like how other characters are seen as arrogant, petty, or quick to anger, but they're still flaws regardless.

It's probably harder for the writers to write flaws for a character whose main inspiration comes from a Disney prince and princess, who are often characterized as paragons of good morality (most princesses' main character flaws are naivety anyway). But just because he's more stereotypically good than the rest of the cast does not negate the flaws he does have. What are your thoughts? Off-topic, but I really enjoy reading your character analyses even if I don't agree with them sometimes; it helps me look at the story from a new perspective.

dhjwekskskn Very quickly, thank you for the feedback! That’s always my goal with analyses—not to necessarily change minds, but to hopefully expose others to + get them thinking about perspectives beyond their own.

This is the first time I’ve heard of someone claiming Silver doesn’t have flaws 🤔 I would sort of get it if this was pre-book 7, as Silver content is quite scarce before then. Mmm… even so, he has opportunities in various vignettes and event stories to show us areas where he’s lacking. For example, in Leona's Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Silver believes that Leona and Malleus are friends, despite Leona's very blatant hostility towards Malleus--which indicates denseness and a lack of social awareness. He's also unaware of how he presents himself to others, leading to peers thinking he's unapproachable (his Dorm Uniform vignettes) or to otherwise be stiff-faced (something Vil comments on in Fairy Gala: What If and in Silver's P.E. vignettes). Those can, however, be easy to miss, especially if you weren’t already on the lookout for him to begin with.

I think we readily overlook Silver’s flaws (even when they’re on display) because 1) he’s not as loud about it like Kalim is and 2) he’s a “good” guy in a cast of characters that usually act like assholes or take it a step further and come close to committing actual crimes. It’s hard for a normal nice guy to stand out against that crowd. Another part of it is, I think, how Silver's greatest shortcoming is easily conflated for something "good".

A consistent theme for Silver is feeling as though he is not enough. This can cause him to train intensely in order to rectify the situation. For example, in the aforementioned Dorm Uniform vignettes, Silver immediately seeks help learning how to appear more friendly to his classmates. Similarly, in Azul's Halloween Dress vignette, Silver assumes extensive training to help him be more intimidating so that he can get the other Diasomnia students to obey him. (As it turns out, they actually don't listen to him because Silver has a tendency to fall asleep mid-conversation.) He also drinks coffee, invests money in clocks, and does whatever he can to help himself stay alert, as he cites his inability to stay awake as a personal shortcoming rather than a health condition he has no control over. He’s frequently apologizing to others for falling asleep on them and even apologizing for others (like Sebek). In short, Silver is always pushing himself to "be better" (something typically regarded as positive), which is a LARGE contrast to the majority of his peers, who are resistant to change and slow to acknowledge their faults. The key thing to note here is that Silver is doing all of this out of a lack of self-worth. He believes he's not worthy, not good enough.

This all culminates in the events of book 7, in which we learn that Silver has deep-rooted insecurities about being "enough" for Lilia as well. As he tells Malleus in 7-28:

"17 years ago... Father found me as a baby deep in the forests of Briar Valley. Father is fae. I'm human. I'm not related to him by blood, and there's no other reason for him to be responsible for me. Yet he took me in. He raised me as if I were his own. He fed me, he trained me, he stayed with me all night whenever I was sick... Humans and fae are different in every way, from our constitutions, to how fast we grow—all of it. Barely anyone in Briar Valley knows how to care for a human. And Father lived alone there. I can only imagine how hard it must've been for him to raise a human baby with no one to turn to for help... I can never thank him enough. I was ready to spend the rest of my life repaying him... But I haven't given back a single thing... And now he's planning to pass on in a faraway land. Even if Father loses his magic and grows frail... Even if he forgets everything, I still want to be at his side, supporting him... I'm far from a fine son! I can't grant my father the one thing he wished for. He wanted me to send him off with a smile on my face..."

Silver is incredibly hard on himself, and even moreso once he learns the truth of his bloodline. Not only does he tell himself that he's undeserving of Lilia's love or even calling himself his son, but he also convinces himself that Malleus and Sebek would also despise him now + tells himself he deserves this:

"Father, don't... I... I don't deserve your love." (context: he's telling past!Lilia to not taking in his infant self)

"Stop that! Stop crying! You have no right to cry!" (context: Silver berates his infant self for sobbing when Lilia takes him in)

"What worth could a bunch of shriveled up old acorns have? Why would you lie like that...? *sob, sob*" (context: Silver learns that the acorn bracelet Lilia considers his "single most valuable possession" was a gift from child!Silver)

"It's pitch black everywhere... Maybe this place is what I deserve. I can just stay here, alone...forever... *sob* (context: Silver is astray in his own darkness)

"What must Sebek think of me now...? ...Does he hate me? I don't want to think about it... I don't want to think about anything."

"Father, did you know that this ring originally belonged to the Dawn Knight...? The Dawn Knight, enemy to you and all of Briarland... Vanquisher of Malleus's parents... And I'm... I'm his... *sob* *sob* *gulp*I... I... How will I ever face you and Malleus after this? *sob, sob*"

"Even though we aren't related by blood, I've always seen myself as your son. But...I can't call myself that in good conscience any longer." "You could never truly love someone related to the Silver Owls... Let alone the Dawn Knight's son! You could never... *sob, sob*"

"Was that voice another vision I conjured to comfort myself?" (context: Silver is greeted by a vision of Lilia praising him; he rejects that image, but accepts a hostile version of past!Lilia who sees him as the Dawn Knight and moves in to strike him down)

Silver is only pulled out of his swamp of darkness when Sebek reminds him that he is so strong only as a result of Lilia's love. Even after this point in time, we see Silver's penchant to be a little too self-sacrificing putting him in danger. He throws himself in harm's way to shield Lilia from a blow in the Eastern Fortress, does the same at Mallemom's lightning, and when confronting Malleus multiple times throughout book 7. (This isn't even limited only to protecting his father; Silver is shown to jump into action in other instances, like protecting Idia in GloMasq from what is basically a party popping handkerchief. Sebek doesn't do the same; his protective behaviors primarily relate to Diasomnia.) Silver is, quite literally, willing to lay his life on the line for others--and that, in part, comes from being a trained knight, of course. However, part of it could also coes from a place of thinking of others as having more worth than he does, or feeling as though he must "repay" the people important to him.

This is why it's sooo satisfying seeing Silver formally take on Lilia's surname at the end of book 7. This entire time, he has been struggling with his identity and self-worth. By finally becoming "Silver Vanrouge", he's affirming that his father does love him, and that he is worthy of having that love. Everyone there at the party is even there to bear witness to the completion of that character arc.

[cometconmain]

Good addition. We need to come at this from a minimum of TWO angles: A) don't give them easy accolades which is what AI use is about; wanting the praise without having to do a minimum of thousands of hours of work to get there, but also B) WE NEED TO ACTUALLY ENCOURAGE PEOPLE TO DO THAT WORK.

Getting better at creativity is HARD WORK. A lot of people don't know how to cope with and push through the hundreds of walls you run into trying to reach any level of skill in any kind of artistry. Until we break apart some of the toxic ideas and attitudes we have within these fields - especially at fandom level where most people get their start when they're at their most vulnerable and have the lowest self esteem - AI and its false promises of an easier path to the same rewards will always be an irresistible siren call to all artists, but especially budding ones with no experience coming from the layperson world of "photographic accuracy = good artist"/"everyone should write exactly like my favourite author or they're objectively bad" and, most egregious and damaging of all "being bad now means you aren't worth encouraging and appreciating for what you're doing well because being good is something you just are and being bad is immediate elimination from any chance at being a good creator no matter what you do."

Which of course is a load of fucking bulllcrap. But I missed out on extremely valuable time I could have been learning and practcing the fundamentals because of that idea being so deeply entrenched in my brain, rotting my self-esteem to the core and eating away any genuine belief I could ever become what I needed to be to tell stories well. I'm now accepting of course that you can start a skill at any age; I just wish I hadn't been held back by the belief that I didn't deserve to get better because I wasn't good immediately.

And sure, I've slipped into talking mostly about visual art here out of habit, but for many people (me too sometimes) this absolutely applies to writing too.

Let's do more than just ignore them. Let's nurture them into learning the joy of their own creativity again.

ai does not belong in creative spaces. period.

[anukkuna]

Day 15: Morally dubious police work

Sorry, I'm one day late, but here it is!

Spatort content first, some more serious real life stuff later under the cut.

#Homeoffice

Let's be honest, Tatort cops are - most of the time - not an accurate representation of real police work (but that wouldn't make for entertaining TV so... yeah. It's true for almost any crime series, I guess). It's fiction, after all, so it doesn't have to be 100% accurate, as long as it tells an interesting and engaging story (and the inaccuracies don’t pull you out of it too much. That’s probably why an acquaintance of mine, who works as a police officer, once said they can’t watch Tatort. The depiction of police work is often so far off that it throws them off too much).

Personally, I often find myself enjoying morally dubious characters or storylines that I’d find far more troubling in real life.

In real life, I wish Adam hadn’t let Moritz Leimer go. Sure, Moritz might not come after Adam again - maybe he ‘learned his lesson’ when it comes to the King’s son. But he’ll most likely remain a criminal and end up breaking into someone else’s home, hurting or traumatizing another victim. In Spatort, however, I don’t feel as strongly about this.

Adam's decision is morally dubious. In a way, the morally right thing to do would have been to press criminal charges against Moritz. He didn’t just break in - he had a gun, for fuck's sake. This isn't a minor offense, where it would be completely up to the victim whether they press charges or not.

"Das sind mindestens zwei Straftaten, die da gerade davon laufen!"

- Leo, Die Kälte der Erde

On the other hand, Adam can't do that for personal reasons. His reputation at the station is already damaged and he has no idea what Moritz knows or how an investigation might play out. Did Uncle Boris figure out where the money was hidden? Did he tell someone to check under that tree? Has anyone noticed the freshly dug-up earth - or even followed Adam? In the end, would it be more than just the current hearsay... would there be evidence that Adam has the money?

That could mean some serious trouble for him, risking both his job as well as his already strained relationship with Leo.

Plus, Adam was the victim in this specific case - so it could be argued that it’s his right to decide not to file a complaint. And maybe Moritz isn’t as dangerous as he seemed at first? After all, Adam was right: he didn’t shoot him.

"Herrgott, haben se nicht jemanden schicken können, der halbwegs gefährlich wirkt?"

- Adam, Die Kälte der Erde

Moreover, Adam needs to be able to continue investigating - and we wouldn't want him losing his job, would we?

There’s a sense in which Adam’s decision seems both right and wrong at the same time - that’s what makes it morally dubious. It’s the kind of situation where you think: yeah, they shouldn’t have done this, but then again… maybe they should have. Maybe it was justified.

The same goes for Leo’s suggestion to threaten Betty Henschel to force a confession. For a lead police investigator, even considering such a tactic should probably be viewed as a serious moral failing.

Then - once again - as viewers, we know from the start of the film that the four are indeed responsible for Roswitha “Kiwi” Jäger’s death, and we might feel that threatening one of them into a confession is necessary—and therefore justified—to ensure they’re sentenced for it.

(Credits to @snowfox-98 for this collage!)

Yet, not all instances I considered as morally dubious at first, remained so on the final evaluation.

After considering it for a while, I'd say: Leo meeting Adam at the lake and using the evidence he was handed there... or Esther and Leo striking a deal with the criminal to arrest Jens Modall (the evil lawyer)... I don't find these morally dubious.

These were, quite literally, the only options they had to save Adam’s life (to prevent him from being wrongfully convicted of murdering his father). Sure, their actions weren’t in line with the law, so what they did was legally dubious. But the law doesn’t always align with morality, and vice versa. (For instance, in a country where homosexuality is criminalized, we wouldn’t view being homosexual as morally dubious). The same logic applies to cases of civil disobedience.

There are plenty of other decisions from Spatort that could be analyzed and debated over whether they’re morally dubious (and I absolutely love the posts I’ve seen on this so far!).

There’s one teeny-tiny sentence I’d like to highlight as particularly morally problematic:

P: "Der muss es sein. Wir haben sonst keinen."

L: "Das passt nicht zu dem."

P: "Komm, lass mich mal weitermachen. Wir knacken den schon."

- Pia und Leo, Das fleißige Lieschen

Pursuing an investigation when you don’t have any conclusive evidence that your suspect is guilty - and pushing it anyway just because you want a conviction - is wrong. It’s a slippery slope where you start caring less and less about whether the suspect is actually guilty. (Even if that’s not your intention, you just keep pushing and pushing... Just ask Isabelle Grandjean from Tatort Zürich - that did NOT turn out well.) That seems both legally and morally wrong.

Reflecting on this while writing this post, my thoughts kept circling back to real-life cases - not just of morally dubious, but outright morally reprehensible police work that continues to this day (not just in the U.S., but also in Germany).

If you’re interested in three (rather recent) examples that remain significant in Germany today, I’d like to invite you to read about them below.

Oury Jalloh

The first case marks a grim 20-year anniversary from just a few days ago (Jan. 7th): the case of Oury Jalloh, a citizen from Guinea who lived in Germany and died while in police custody cell. He was arrested after street cleaners claimed he had been drunkenly harassing people following a night of clubbing (allegations that were later denied by the supposed victims).

Police brought him to a cell at Dessau police station, where he was searched for dangerous objects. Then he was restrained, tied down on hands and feet to a bed, due to his intoxicated state, but also because he was very angry about being arrested. I'll let Wikipedia take it from here:

"Policewoman Beate H. was working in the second floor control room, together with Andreas S., her superior. On the intercom she heard Jalloh rattling his chains and swearing, so she attempted to calm him and she reports later she heard other officers in the cell. She went to check on him herself at about 11:30 am, without noting anything unusual. She returned to the control room, where Andreas S. turned down the intercom volume and she told him to turn it back up. At around noon she claimed she heard splashing sounds and told Andreas S. it was his turn to check. She originally said that after the fire alarm went off, Andreas S. turned it off twice. When another different alarm went off, he went to check what was going on. Gerhard M. followed Andreas S. downstairs to the cells, where they found Jalloh alive but burning to death. His final word was "Fire".

The police suggested that Jalloh had burnt himself to death, using a lighter to ignite the foam mattress he was lying on in the cell. One appeared in an evidence bag several days after Jalloh's death."

An independent autopsy report found that he had a broken rib, a broken nose and a fracture at the base of his skull, indicating that Oury Jalloh may have been tortured before his death. During the investigations it was found that there had been at least two previous incidents, where persons held in custody had died after being locked up in the same police station (due to internal injuries or fracture of the skull).

One police officer has been suspended, another was displaced to a different station. The charges (of murder) against them were, however, ultimately dismissed by the court.

2. The NSU (National Socialist Underground)

They were a German Neo-Nazi militant organization uncovered in 2011 and they were responsible for several murders during these years. The article is a long one (even more so in German), but what's important here is that it's also an example of police being "blind on the right eye".

They didn't consider or straight up ignored evidence for a right-wing / fascist motivation behind the crimes (all intended victims were (descendants of) immigrants) but instead suspected immigrant clan-feuds to be the motif, despite a lack of evidence for that.

3. NSU 2.0 / The Frankfurt Chat Group

In December 2018, a far-right chat group within the Frankfurt police force came to light. A fax sent by the group, which issued threats against the daughter of NSU victims’ attorney Seda Başay-Yıldız, was signed 'NSU 2.0' in reference to the National Socialist Underground.

The officers have been suspended from duty and are facing disciplinary consequences; however, they are not being prosecuted because the content of their chats is deemed far-right but not criminal. In the abstract, this might seem understandable, but when you look at the specific chats, it becomes deeply disturbing.

It is possible to view the actual chats from the group, as they have been made publicly accessible by a critical satire magazine in collaboration with an initiative for information freedom. If you feel up to it, you can access the real chat logs of the far-right Frankfurt police group through this website and form your own opinion:

But, of course: the devil's in the detail and obviously not ACAB. (I say this as a person, who, for quite some time, was very skeptical towards the ideal of police officers being there to help you or having your best interests at heart).

I just think that with regards to the political situation in Germany right now and the rise of far right and extremist parties, these are cases to be weary of and to keep in mind.

If you have made it to the very end - thank you so much!

I wanted to end this on a positive note. This is the link to a video by a guy, who talks about how he went from transphobe to trans ally:

This might seem a bit random, but I post this here because it is positive case of someone, who makes an argument for talking to one another, despite initial differences - and how progress can be achieved. With the election coming up and families begin often anything but homogeneous, maybe some of you will find this helpful or hopeful!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.